#tee don’t do it i’m so serious you don’t have to do this

[livvyofthelake]

struck fear into my soul. tee don’t do it… don’t do it you don’t have to do this…

[skeltnwrites]

Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail. 

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos 

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?” 

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.” 

“Please hold,” the operator says. 

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning. 

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle. 

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper. 

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.” 

“What happened, Eds?” 

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.” 

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone. 

“You’re sure? It’s enough?” 

“Swear.” 

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks. 

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van. 

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby. 

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown. 

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?” 

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit. 

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside. 

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive. 

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?” 

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door. 

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood. 

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in. 

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hmm?” 

You point at your own cheek. 

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles. 

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?” 

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“ 

“You hit Shelly Watkins?” 

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!” 

You shake your head, trying to recall. 

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.” 

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already. 

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’” 

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be. 

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache. 

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke. 

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot. 

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight. 

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green. 

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet. 

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you. 

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away. 

“‘s cold.” 

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter. 

“Sit,” you tell him. 

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky. 

 “Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously. 

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.” 

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loathing the time and touch. 

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start. 

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.” 

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?” 

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.” 

“For what?” 

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back. 

“Still, sorry.” 

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist. 

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.” 

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you. 

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead. 

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare. 

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.” 

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“ 

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping. 

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.” 

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!” 

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!” 

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

[mauvecherie-writes]

filthy: l.hamilton.

warning: 18+ mdni, extreme sexual content, slight dom!lewis, mating press, dirty talk, unprotected p in v.

notes: this gif set sent me and @hopefulromantic1 down a sinful path. our dark thoughts collided. Also I didn’t watch the episode lmao - a small section of this - paragraph 3 - is purely based on the gifs I’ve seen 😂. either way ennjjooyy 😘🤭.

I’m thinking about how you can’t get over just how buff Lewis got over the winter break. You love the way he just fills his t-shirts more, the way his thighs stretch the fabric of his pants - just how every inch of him seems to be bulging.

Just watching him do mundane things has you all hot and bothered. Like you’re in the living room watching his episode of DTS and you’re squirming in your seat as if he’s not somewhere in the house.

It’s the weirdest thing that sets you off. He’s by the track in his white tee, talking to the kids from Mission44 and he moves to clap his hands before swinging his arms. holy fuck. you’re creaming for your man.

You move so quickly off the sofa, you startle your sleepy boy Roscoe. You throw an apology to him before running to the security system and search the camera footage to see where he is.

He’s outside, fixing up the trampoline for the kids. You run to the backyard and for a moment you stop and just watch him. His arms flexing as he tightens the bolts on the legs.

When you catch his eye, he smiles at you. So bright and wide, his eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart beats faster causing you to blush.

“What’s up baby?” He asks you as he stands to his full height.

You don’t answer and in that moment Lewis sees the glint in your eye and he immediately knows where your heart is at. It makes him smirk.

“I have a problem.” You say as you tip-toe toward him.

“Tell me love.” He says, wiping his hands before taking your hand pulling you closer before he settles his large palms on your waist as yours wrap around his neck and you play with the strands at the back of his head.

“I see you on the show and you’re all buff and shit, muscles spilling out of your shirt and then I see you out here doing work.”

“Did that turn you on baby?” He licks his lips as he trails his hands down to your ass and cups your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathless sigh as he massages your flesh.

“How do you want me to fix it sweetheart?”

You give an all knowing smile and next thing you know, he’s picking you up in his arms and running back into the house. You don’t even go all the way to the master bedroom.

He bulldozes his way into the guest bedroom downstairs and chucks you onto the bed like you weigh nothing before pulling at your clothes and barely stepping out of his before he’s back in between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet. Did I really do that to you sweet girl?” He smiles as he stretches his knees apart - pushing yours further apart too.

“Yes!” You gasp as you arch forward trying to press your cunt against this dick. “I’m also ovulating so that could be it too.” You confess.

Lewis grunts at your words as he presses into you. Once your eyes roll, he doesn’t hold back. He’s fucking you so good that you’re screaming and trying to run away from him. He’s deep in your guts as you struggle for words.

His shoulders and chest are folding you and pressing into you as you struggle for air.

“It’s t- too much baby.” You hiccup as his skin slaps against the back of thighs. His mark was all over your body despite the way that he has you folded. The contact bites at your skin from the ferocity of his thrusts.

He’s fucking you into the bed and crushing you until you’re gasping for air and he laughs at you - mocking you for how much you said you could take him but you’re clearly having trouble doing so.

You keep trying to run away.

You try to beg but he’s not having it, the laughter is gone from his voice - he’s serious again. Your legs are back on his shoulders and he’s got you in a mating press as he fucks you harder and harder into the bed.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going huh?” He hisses in your ear as he thrusts until you. “I’m fixing your problem aren’t I? This is what you wanted. Why you running?” He taunts you.

You cry louder as tears trail down your cheeks and settle into the crooks of your neck.

“This is what you wanted. Fucking take it!” He growls. “Take this fucking dick, it’s yours.”

ru’s letters 💌: I’m ending it here. Let your imagination run 😝😌

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @lewisinlace @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

[zeppelinlvr]

Still Feel Like That

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you accompany Dean, Sam, and Bobby on a hunt. You and Dean go out for a drink and Dean looks after you when you've had too much to drink.

Notes: Reader is a yapper (cus same), kinda implied that reader is Bobby's kid but it's not stated outright, sorry if you like Poison or Bret Micheals reader hates on them for a second, I assumed that Dean switched out his radio with one that would be compatible with cassettes since a 67' would likely have a 8 track player, I got lazy with my research so I apologize if any facts are incorrect (feel free to correct me).

Warnings: Suggestive language, flirting, cursing, mentions of throwing up, y/n is used like three times, Dean in his undies (yummy!)

Word Count: 4.1k

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat at Bobby’s old wooden table, sipping hot coffee from your Garfield mug. You didn’t own it but when you saw the grumpy orange cat with a text saying ‘I'm listening I just don’t care’ sitting on Bobby’s shelf of mismatched old mugs you’d used the cup ever since. 

You sat in your pajama shorts, slippers, and an old tee shirt, the cracked text reading “Winfield national flatpickin’ championships”. The shirt previously belonged to Bobby and he couldn’t remember how he acquired such an item, he assumed he was passing through Kansas and picked it up along the way, but you loved it so much he felt it was necessary to give it to you. 

You were reading through a book you had picked up on demonology. Bobby had given you a few vague events that had occurred and you were trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with. You had a book on Pagan gods on standby. 

You heard the front door open, figuring it was Bobby you chose to continue reading but when you heard unfamiliar voices you quickly looked up in a panic, nearly knocking your chair over to try to scramble and find Bobby. You were not a hunter by any means, you just did the research and stayed in the comfort of motels. You knew some basic self defense but you could not fight a serious threat on your own.

You were making a dash for the nearest room when you heard Bobby yell your name. 

You quickly spun around to look at him, seeing two tall, handsome, potentially dangerous, men standing next to him. 

“What the hell are you doing kid?” Bobby asked you, concerned by your panic stricken expression.

“I heard people- and I was trying to find you and not die” You uttered out, still confused about who the two other men were. “Sorry, who the hell are these guys” you added 

“Sam and Dean I talk-” Bobby started but you cut him off 

“Winchester?” you asked excitedly “Bobby talks about you two all the time and I really wanted to meet both of you, especially Dean, Bobby says you make stupid decisions but you sound fun” you rambled quickly, a smirk growing on the shorter ones face at your mention of him. 

“Oh my god you have to be Sam, you totally have that sad puppy look” you said to the taller one “You could ask me to donate my life savings to a charity then build a shelter for the homeless and I totally would” you continued to talk.

“I like her” the shorter man who you had now assumed was Dean said with a grin 

“Wait Dean” you started turning to him “Did you drive your car here, I’ve heard rumors it's a totally awesome 67’ impala and I’ve been dying to see it” 

Before Dean could respond with a comment about how you were marriage material Bobby interrupted your rambling “Okay motor mouth, I’m sure Sam and Dean are enthralled by your commentary but they need our help” 

“Are you the super smart Y/n?” Sam asked 

“The one who has saved our asses more times than we can count” Dean added

“Yes, that's her, and I don't prefer to shout about her to the whole world because she's not exactly Hulk Hogan” Bobby said, growing slightly annoyed with the continued blabbering. 

“Really? Hulk Hogan? You have to compare me to that doofus, call me Bret Micheals while you’re at it” You shot at him 

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be Kerry VonErich” Bobby sighed 

“Yes, minus his incredibly tragic life” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Bobby why have we not met this chick sooner, she's awesome” Dean said slightly in awe. 

“You two don't care to stop by all that often and I knew you and her would get along real well and we wouldn't get anything done” Bobby responded hinting at the exact situation that was happening. 

“Let me see Dean’s car then I promise I will be productive” you offered

“Yeah let her see my car” Dean added, Sam smiling at the situation and Bobby rolling his eyes and reluctantly agreeing. 

The four of you made your way outside and when you saw the impala you let out a gasp of excitement before sprinting towards it. 

“She is so beautiful” you gushed to Dean “You keep her in phenomenal condition, does she run well?” 

“Like she’s new” Dean responded, smiling at your excitement over the car. 

“Is there an 8 track player? I have a few tapes I could give you if you want” You offered 

“Switched it out for a cassette player” Dean told you

“Good choice, 8 tracks are such a hassle, you can hear another song playing in the background of whatever you're trying to listen to, and don't even think about trying to fast forward to get to the song you want, at least you have a slim chance to land on the right song with cassettes” you rambled 

“Yeah no kidding, you wanna see my tape collection” Dean offered 

“Nope, we agreed on just the car now we need to figure out what the hell is going on in Pawnee Nebraska” Bobby interrupted as the four of you made your way back into the house 

“I’m so sick of going to these ho-hum towns, why can't you guys hunt things that reside in memphis or something, I want to go to a museum that isn't about the butter cow or a mayor who died of dysentery” You said with a sigh

“Hunting in this ho hum town means road trip and i'm sure Dean would be delighted to let you ride down with him” Bobby offered for Dean, partly because he wanted some silence in his own car and he also wanted you, Dean, and Sam to be able to talk as much as you pleased and hopefully be caught up so you could focus on working. 

Dean agreed to the idea and Sam shrugged, hoping you would prevent bickering between him and his brother. 

“I promised I’d focus so Sam, you’re smart, have you found out more than some bad weather and a ‘still under investigation death of a couple’” You asked, turning to the taller brother, offering him a smile, slightly feeling bad you’d paid so much attention to his brother and not talked to Sam much. 

“Yeah, I think the weather is unrelated, I found autopsy reports and the couple had these wounds on the back of their necks. I don't recognize the pattern but you might be able to” he replied to you with a soft smile, he made his way to his computer and set it on the table where your abandoned books and coffee lay. 

You made a noise of disgust upon seeing the picture but you instantly recognized the wound pattern “That has to be changelings, they feed off of the mother until she dies, it's so creepy” You started “In a lot of the books I’ve read they switch out an infant for a changeling, did the couple have a kid?” you asked 

“Yeah, but she's a little girl who’s ten years old” Sam replied to you

“Different cultures have varying takes on changelings, some of them say they can grow and develop like a human would, so it's definitely a possibility” You told him “We have to get down there asap before more kids are switched out, and when you figure out where the little girl is at now, monitor her behavior closely, she's gonna be hungry and use abnormal phrases for a ten year old.” You explained

“Alright you heard her” Dean said, squeezing between you and Sam and placing a hand on your shoulder. He secretly wanted your attention back on him. 

“Let me pack a bag and change then I’ll be ready to head out” you told them

“Same goes for me, give us five minutes” Bobby added

You headed to your room and changed into jeans and tee shirt, additionally throwing on a crewneck from a college in Louisiana that you had found in the aisles of a thrift store. 

You threw a few additional outfits in a duffle bag and your pajamas which consisted of sleep shorts and a tee shirt, you threw your slippers for your constantly cold feet in the bag and you were ready to go. 

Your socked feet padded against the floor as you made your way to the front door to grab your shoes. You threw them on and told the group you were ready to go. 

Dean, Sam and you crowded into the impala, Dean leaping on the opportunity to tell Sam to sit in the back after you had informed the brothers you get carsick. 

“I have zofran, Sam can sit in the front, I don't want to take his spot” you said 

“Nope, Sam get in the back” Dean quickly said as he took his spot in the driver's seat. 

After the three of you had gotten in the car and started on the trip Sam complained “Dean, I know there's a pretty girl but what if I get carsick in the back” 

“You won't, and the very pretty girl won't complain about my music choices” Dean told him and raised his brows at you.

Your face heated at how they referred to you, you cleared your throat and changed the subject “I know you guys are more hands on than me so I know a few ways to figure these things out, different folklore says if you can make them laugh they’ll reveal their truth, or you can shout god bless you, you can cook with eggshells. German legends say you can whip the child but honestly the easiest way to kill them is just lighting the fuckers on fire” You explained “People used to throw them in the fireplace or in the oven but you can get away with a blowtorch and a can of hairspray” 

“That's more our speed” Dean replied 

“People were seriously throwing these things in ovens?” Sam asked “What if the kid wasn't actually a changeling” 

“People got overly paranoid and it wasnt exactly common knowledge back then that someone could be born with physical or mental disabilities, also families used to be really reliant on everyone in the household being able to help out so a lot of child abuse ensued because parents didnt want to have a changeling on their hands” You explained “Anyway these things creep me out so lets talk about something more lighthearted on the way there” 

“i agree sweetheart” Dean said and you blushed at the name “I heard your comment about Bret Micheals, are you a Poison hater” 

“I can tolerate them but I will not go out of my way to listen to them, they’re definitely one of the lamest hair bands” you told him “I definitely prefer Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard and Cinderella if I’m going to listen to hair bands” 

“Atta girl, you don’t like that Barry Manilow bullshit do you?” Dean asked 

“God no, fuck Styx too, that Babe song pisses me off” you laughed 

“Cus you know it’s you babe” Sam started singing off key and you groaned in annoyance, Dean laughing. 

The three of you talked about music, movies, and Sam and Dean's past hunts, asking odd would you rather questions when trying to think of new conversation topics 

“Okay would you rather have to eat a little bit of cheese on everything or never eat cheese again” you asked 

“Never eat cheese again” Sam quickly answered 

“I’d put a little bit on everything I fucking love cheese” you answered 

After extensive conversation and small bits of bickering the three of you made it to Nebraska, Bobby close behind.

Dean checked into the hotel, getting two rooms, one for him and Sam and one for you and Bobby. He gave the woman behind the counter a credit card with a name that most certainly was not his then the three of you made your way to the rooms. Dean opened the door to one of the rooms and the cowboy theme of the room made you laugh.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em’ Dean” you said 

“It’s fun, this cowboy boot pen holder on the desk is cute” he said, picking up the small red ceramic boot with a few pens sticking out of it.

“It is kinda cute, and I like the lasso on the wall” you pointed out 

“Oh man, creepy” you said as you noticed the sad clown painting hanging above the bed. 

“That's coming down” Sam said and quickly moved over to the painting to take it off the wall and lay it face down in the corner of the room. 

“Sammy here is a afraid of clowns” Dean informed you

“I don’t blame him, they’re scary, and all the media about killer clowns doesn’t exactly make me want to see one” you replied 

Bobby arrived at the motel shortly after the three of you had gotten the rooms. The four of you were discussing plans for the next day as it was later and you all agreed to start interviewing people in the morning. 

“i’m gonna go grab a drink, I saw a bar about ten minutes from here” Dean announced 

“I’ll join you if Bobby and Sam don’t need help with research” you said 

“Go take a break kid, you work your ass off, me and Sam will be fine” Bobby told you, you thanked him and gave him a quick hug before heading out with Dean. 

You weren’t surprised by the crowd at the bar, mostly older men who looked like they had just gotten off work, farm clothes and dirty work shirts adorned most of them. A few of them had women who you assumed were their wives at their side, chatting quietly with them. You were glad your outfit wasn’t out of place for the scene. 

A man who you guessed to be around fifty was working behind the bar, he gave Dean and you a soft smile before asking what you’d like to drink. 

“I’ll take a beer” Dean told him

“Busch okay? We don’t have anything else” The bartender replied 

“Perfect” 

“And for the pretty lady” the bartender asked 

“I’ll just take a vodka cranberry” you said, not minding his comment too much, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, people just talked like that. 

You and Dean sat at the bar after getting your drinks, chatting with each other. 

One drink led to another and you lost count of how many you had drank. You were asking Dean silly questions and you began to vocalize your thoughts about how handsome he is.

“I know you can't kill a vampire with a wooden stake, but have you ever tried death by stereo?” you asked with a giggle, you had taken your hand into his and were toying with his fingers. 

“The Lost Boys is a great movie, me and Sammy will try out death by stereo just for you the next time we hunt vampires” he replied earning a laugh from you.

“You are so manly and cute and handsome” you slurred poking a finger into his chest, eyes widening at the firmness of his muscles “Oh my gosh you’re strong too, I feel like I just poked a rock” 

He laughed and shook his head at your comments “Let's get you to bed before you say more shit you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

“I don't regret anything, I’ve been thinking about how cute you are all day, and those big arms wrapped around-” You blabbered but were cut off by Dean.

“Yep time for bed, but give me a heads up sweetheart if you still feel this way after you’ve sobered up” 

“I’m going to pay, then we’re going to get in the car, then get you to bed” he added

“Very forward, I like it” you giggled with a raise of your brows. 

After Dean paid he walked you out to the Impala, you stumbling slightly finding it hard to walk after being sat down all night. 

“I'm cold” you lied, you were not cold but you wanted his jacket.

“You have a sweater on?” he replied with confusion lacing his tone.

“You're supposed to give me your jacket then I can smell like you” you told him and tried to give him a hug while still walking. 

He forced a sigh then wrapped his jacket around you. You snuggled into it and thanked him.

After a car ride consisting of you informing Dean your feet hurt and you were tired, the two of you arrived back at the motel.

Dean opened the door to yours and Bobby's shared room. You giggled noticing the lights were off. 

Dean attempted to shush you “he's probably asleep already, quiet down” 

You only laughed harder at the fact you needed to be quiet “he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge when he sleeps, he just needs the little hat” you commented through your giggles, Dean tried to hide his smile to not encourage you. 

“I always think the ghost of Christmas past is gonna get him” you said before bursting into laughter and Dean quickly slapping his hand over your mouth. He pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door attempting to muffle your giggles. He flipped the light on and asked you where your duffle bag was. 

“In the room somewhere” you shrugged 

“Well no shit sweetheart” 

“It's on my bed I think” you giggled 

“Okay perfect you stay right here and I’ll go get it then you're going to change and go to bed” he told you

Dean groped through the dark until he found your bag, it was sitting on your bed as you had told him. He made his way back to the bathroom to find you sitting on the toilet lid, playing with the toilet paper roll that had the first square folded into a fancy shape. 

“Isn't this just precious” you said and showed him the toilet paper

“Yes, very cute put it down” he said and took the roll out of your hands, placing it on the counter. 

He opened your bag and fished out your shorts and a tee shirt “get changed” 

“No can do, can’t get my pants off” you shrugged with a fake sigh 

Usually Dean would be enthralled to take a girl's pants off but he wasn’t in the mood for an ass whooping from Bobby. 

He just prayed Bobby wouldn’t wake up because you weren’t budging. He helped you shimmy your jeans off your legs, then slipped your shorts onto you. 

“Need help with my shirt too” you said as you shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and put it into your lap. 

He slipped your crewneck over your head, your shirt coming off with it. He quickly took in your figure, admiring the sight of you in your bra before he slipped a clean shirt over your head. 

You unclasped your bra and slipped it off from under your shirt before tossing it on the bathroom floor. 

“Really? you can do that but you can’t change on your own” Dean whisper yelled 

“I can’t show you too much” you shrugged “now can you carry me to bed?”

He was willing to do anything to get you in bed at this point so he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to your bed, you giggled as he threw you down onto the sheets. 

“Go to bed now” he whispered and you quickly made yourself comfortable under the blankets, cuddling into his jacket that you still held in your arms. 

You heard the door close and you soon drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke around four in the morning the red numbers off the alarm clock informing you of the time. You were starving and the alcohol had barely worn off. you crawled out of bed and slipped on Dean's jacket, it hung loosely on your figure, the length going past your shorts and the sleeves being far too long. You were glad for the added warmth because you were freezing. 

You were absolutely craving fried chicken and you dug through the mini fridge wholeheartedly expecting to find some, when the disappointment hit you, you left the room and went into Sam and Dean's room, letting yourself in with the spare key you had been given. 

You began to dig through their refrigerator in the dark, expecting to find some chicken but when you heard a gun click and the light flipped on, you spun around, met by Dean in his underwear and Sam shuffling in moments later with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What the hell are you doing” Dean asked 

“I want fried chicken so bad” you complained 

“Why would we have fried chicken?” Dean asked, still groggy and confused. 

“I don’t know I just wanted to check” you told him 

Sam laughed at the interaction, telling Dean he shouldn’t have let you drink so much before he headed back to his bed. 

“I promise I will get you fried chicken in the morning but please go back to bed” Dean told you 

“You look cute in your undies” you giggled 

“And you look cute in my jacket now go to bed” he mimicked your giggle. 

You agreed but not before you made him promise to get you your food in the morning, you made him lock pinkies with you despite his complaints of annoyance. 

You made your way back to your room and quickly fell asleep again. 

The next morning was hell, Bobby woke you up around 8 and you were met with a headache and a need for water. The second you stood up you found yourself running to the bathroom as a nauseating feeling built in your throat. 

You heard Sam and Dean talking as you were throwing up the memories of last night. Both of them asking how you were doing, and Bobby explaining you were currently throwing up, expecting an explanation from Dean as to why. 

Dean ducked out of the conversation “I’m going to get her water and hold her hair back, like a man does” he walked into the bathroom and gave a small chuckle at your figure hunched over the toilet. 

“Do not fucking laugh at me” you groaned 

“You still want that fried chicken” he asked, and you gagged at the thought, he grabbed you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and handed you the toilet paper you had been previously admiring to wipe your mouth off with. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and the tears from your eyes before standing up to brush your teeth. 

“You still gotta work today you know” Dean told you 

you rolled your eyes at him and after you had finished brushing your teeth you said “I’ll survive, I can tolerate sitting and reading, you have to go fight the things” 

You and Dean joined Bobby and Sam, Sam having told Bobby about you breaking into their room. You were expecting to get your ass chewed out but all you got from Bobby was “Kid I’m glad you had fun, you need to loosen up sometimes, but we still need your help today, so I expect your best” 

You agreed and gave him a quick hug before setting up a spot to research on the desk in the room. 

Sam and Dean left to put on formal clothes as they were posing as detectives and had to look the part. They returned to the room after changing. 

“Don’t you boys look handsome” you said with a grin 

“We have to be believable” Dean grumbled 

“I’m being serious, you look nice” you smiled “I’m going to look for potential demonic activity in other areas, call me if you need anything” 

“Will do sweetheart” Dean replied 

“Thanks for all your help y/n, we’ll pick you up some fried chicken on our way back” Sam grinned 

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating anything but maybe you’d change your mind later in the day, so you didn’t shut him down. 

As the three were turning to leave you said “by the way Dean, I do still feel like that” earning a grin from him and his head flooding with thoughts of what he could do to you when he got back. 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[heartkaji]

2O WOMEN VS 1 EGOIST !

bllk boys if they were in the videos by the sidemen + beta squad

includes: michael kaiser, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

MICHAEL KAISER !

“kaiser, ask her if she’d let you put your balls in her jaw.”

isagi’s voice is only a static crackle through the ear piece speaker, but it’s more than enough to have kaiser gnashing teeth & wrinkling nose. it was taking everything in his power not to snap the headset between his fingers. kaiser wasn’t even sure why he had to do this ; fuck yoichi and fuck bastard münchen’s publicity team.

he tries for an exhale but his dignity accompanies it, “would you let me put my balls in your jaw ?”

you’re the third girl who’s sat with kaiser so far & fuck his heart is aching— you’re far too pretty for this, blood drenched cheeks & freckled nose & silver draped around your neck like rings of vined ivy. kaiser can’t help but wonder why a pretty thing like you is here seeking male validation in thigh highs & skimpy bralette. surely someone of your beauty would know better, no ?

“what ?”

you ask so sweetly, lashes fluttering as you blink hurriedly as if it’ll help you hear better. if you were actually somebody, michael kaiser would be almost embarrassed by now, but you’re only pink painted lips & syrupy sweet voice so kaiser clears his throat & swallows his pride. he parts his lips to repeat the query but a hiss in his ear interrupts him, “she didn’t hear you, say it a—“

kaiser snaps the headset between his fingers & tosses it somewhere behind him. “i said, can i take you out sometime ?”

ISAGI YOICHI !

“try to sit on her lap while she’s talking.”

“you lot can’t be serious.”

unfortunately for yoichi, hiori & kurona were dead serious. he picked at the earpiece as you babbled on about your ideal first date, teeth kissing as he plotted on how he’d sit himself between your thighs.

“— and i’m not trying to be different or anything, but i think dinner dates are rather boring. i’d rather go to an amusement park or—“

“same, honestly,” yoichi was a charmer with a voice heavier than tree sap. his baritone alone had your guts knotting & spilling. “rides are way more exciting, really get your adrenaline going huh ? and then at the end of the date you share a kiss on the ferris wheel. i fuck with that.”

you blink, flesh pinkening & blush crawling up your throat as your fingers play with your bag strap. yoichi thinks you’re cute. you’re a fucking doll really, a pretty little thing isagi has decided he likes staring at.

yoichi can’t help but tease your further, “you wouldn’t mind if i kissed you on a ferris wheel, right ?”

you bite your inner cheek & yoichi swears you’re the cutest thing in the world. as if rehearsed, you cross your legs, shoulders tucking as you straighten your spine,

“on the first date, isagi ? quite the manwhore aren’t you ?”

it catches him by surprise but also pulls him back to earth. he bites his tongue, “oh ? when would you let me kiss you then ?”

he gets off his seat as he speaks, striding towards you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. you choke on your tongue, “um, me ? on the first date is a bit too— isagi ? what are you—?”

he positions himself on your lap. “you were saying ?”

yoichi’s ear piece blares with booms of laughter. “nah this man’s not real ! man said—“

NAGI SEISHIRO !

“are you a magician ? because when i look at you, everyone else disappears.”

“next.”

this was the eighth girl nagi had rejected. each girl came in with a new pick up line, and to nagi, each one seemed to be worse than the last.

“nagi, you have to say yes to someone already. you’ve rejected almost every— don’t listen to chigiri, nagi ! you don’t have to say yes to any of these bitches—“

nagi was about mid eye roll when you walked in.

you were rose dappled cheeks & fluffy jacket upon crème tee. your eyes met the room before his, scanning the seemingly infinite white walls & high ceiling. you even did a little wave to the camera before taking your seat. cute

even then, your eyes settled everywhere except him.

“hi,” he broke you out of your trance.

“ah— hello !” you flash him a shy grin, dimpled cheeks & freckled nose. “i was supposed to say a pick up line, right ? are you french, because—“

“no, no, please don’t,” nagi interrupts. you’re a pretty thing, red bruised knee bouncing over the other as you tuck away a strand of hair. fuck, you’re like candy for the eye.

“you get a pass.”

“huh ? but my pick up line—“

“no need, it’s a yes from me.”

pretty pink lips bend into a pout & nagi is almost tempted to let you say your line, but he shudders at the thought of your incomplete statement. you nod a bow & show yourself out with another tiny wave to the camera. perhaps this game isn’t all that bad after all.

mid thought, nagi’s earpiece crackles to life. “nagi, why’d you say yes ?! what’s she got that—“

ITOSHI SAE !

“ask her if she’d get with a bisexual dude.”

“what ? stop it shidou he doesn’t like dudes. ask her if she—“

“how about i ask her to shut the fuck up?”

sae says it a bit too loudly so your eyes widen a bit before you seemingly shrink in on yourself. sae hadn’t actually meant it—he was only trying to put a stop to the squabbling in his ears but now your nose is red & you’re biting your lip like you’re about to cry.

truthfully, he doesn’t give a fuck.

but his PR team sure does. sae was live right now & his public image already wasn’t the prettiest. he’d also rather not receive yet another lecture from his manager.

“um, girl number nine ?”

the sound of a facepalm rattles in his earpiece. “isn’t she like, the fourth girl ?”

sae bites his bottom lip. you’re fidgeting with your nails & your breathing seems heavy & your eyes seem to be everywhere but his. you don’t even respond to his call. he sighs.

“that wasn’t meant for you, sorry.” he swallows. “you were talking about red flags in a relationship, right ?”

you seem to perk up—perhaps you thought he wasn’t listening ? you were going on & on but how could sae not pay you any mind when your voice seemed smoother than redwine & myrrh ?

“yes—yes i was ! um, what about you ? any red flags ?”

“when they’re too horny.” a damn-it ! blares through his ear piece.

you nod, “i get that. though honestly, i’m a bit of a freak myself.”

you say it like you didn’t just admit to being a professional dick sucker. “sae, ask her for her number—“

he taps a button & the humming in his ear ceases. “a freak, you say ? do elaborate.”

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, edit, translate or reupload

[cutecatlov3r]

kinktober: hate sex~ katsuki bakugou

synopsis: your rival is sneaking into your tent, seeing you though just in a tee and panties made his dick hard . and he hates you even more for that .

warnings/tw: aged up! dryhumping, hair pulling, piv, degrading, unprotected sex, choking, and creampie

character ai bot that I made in honor of this: here

not proofread

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katsuki opened your tent, going inside, not caring if you were awake or not. he looked pissed off and annoyed. you were startled by the sudden intrusion, propping yourself on your elbows to look at his grumpy face… it may sound stupid but you honestly wished it would’ve been a bear instead of him being there. why was he here? you both hated each other.

noticing your confused gaze, he rolled his eyes, looking at you.

“tch! shitty hair and raccoon eyes are making out in my goddamn tent! so I’m staying here dumbass,” he said in his gruff voice, shitty hair being kirishima and raccoon eyes being mina. “it’s already past 8, I’m going to fucking bed so make some room,”

“what?! no way!” you furrow your brows yelling.

he looks at you, a disgusted look as he sees you aren’t even wearing any pants. you pull your cover over yourself quickly, not saying anything. he scoffed slightly.

“im going to. i wasn’t even asking, dumbass,” he stated in an irritated tone. he laid as far away from you as he could, turning around so he didn’t have to face you.

“ugh! are you serious? go ask-“

“shut the hell up and go to sleep. share your fucking cover too, don’t be a selfish bitch,” he grumbled, snatching away your cover.

you groan, snatching it back.

“go get your own!”

“no! I’ll be lucky as fuck if kirishima hasn’t already got his cum all over it right now!”

“okay fine! god, you’re so annoying!” you gave him some of your cover, facing away from him.

you try to shut your eyes after a few minutes… that was until you accidentally feel his back press up against you. both of you tensed up.

he was a guy, don’t blame him. don’t blame that his immediate thought was to feel those plush thighs of yours. he made a disgusted face to himself the more he thought about how you were in your underwear. were you even wearing a bra? ew! snap out of it, he hates your guts… yet the thought of rearranging them did make his dick ha- oh no.

you just stared at the tent wall in front of you. neither of you said a word.

“fucking shit,” he muttered. sighing, he turned to face you. “oi face me, I know your ass can’t fall asleep that quickly,”

you groan, facing him.

“my dick is hard,”

WHAT?! ew! that’s fucking disgusting why would he tell you that!… why are your thighs instinctively squeezing together at the thought that you were the person who made him hard…

after a long silence you wanted to see if he was lying. was he? you couldn’t tell, you couldn’t even see his facial features in the darkness of your tent. you silently move your hand, fingers grazing his abs. but once they reached his crotch it was obvious, he was painfully hard.

he winced slightly, he was sensitive.

“do something about it, whore,”

you roll your eyes at his insult.

“why should I? i don’t even like you,” you reply, taking your hand back from his dick.

“i fucking hate you too but this is your fault. you wanted to be a slut and not wear pants to sleep so you’re gonna fucking deal with it,” he placed a hand on your hip, rutting his hips upwards slightly, you can feel his dick rubbing your clothed slit and clit. you let out a shaky breath, feeling slightly turned on. “need to fuck you… dumbass,”

you stay silent, allowing his big fat cock to tease your clothed pussy.

“no…”

he grabbed your chin, pulling you into a hot and sensual kiss, his tongue rolling against yours, your spit mixing together with his. you let out a small moan.

“take off those panties… im going to fuck you,”

without hesitation you took off your panties, throwing them somewhere in the tent, you didn’t care where, you just threw them.

he smirked to himself, you couldn’t see it. he went on top of you eagerly, pulling your legs apart. the cool air hitting the wetness of your cunt.

he used a finger to feel how wet you were, dragging it up and down.

“so fucking wet for me…” he mumbled, mostly to himself for his own ego. “you know, only whores get turned on this much over a guy showing them attention. are you a whore?”

“no!” you furrow your brows. he pulls your hair, gripping it at the scalp, leaning close to your face. “yeah I am,” you changed your mind.

“i know,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m only gonna fuck you so I can cum, I don’t give a damn about you. this is all your fault anyway,”

you didn’t like the sound of that. “what the fuck? no way, you’re gonna make me- ngh…” you pause in your sentence feeling as he led his, now unclothed dick, up and down your folds.

he had his usual grumpy face on, holding back his groans as he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit. it caused little jolts of pleasure for you and him.

he let go of your hair, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. “im gonna fuck you so good,” he said, cockily, lining his cock at your entrance. your heart raced. anticipating on how full he’d make you feel.

as he entered in you and stretched you out, his other hand grabbed your throat, applying enough pressure to where it felt amazing. not too hard yet not too soft.

your fingernails dug into his back as he pushed himself fully inside of you. you felt so full, so so full. he kept his hand on your throat, rutting his hips. he didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his long cock. he just needed to cum, you were his useful toy.

he pistoned into you, his hand reaching down to lift up your shirt. no bra. he smirked, head moving down to suck on your hardened nipples.

“k-kah~ katsuki,” you moaned. you continued to moan his name.

he felt his ego grow bigger.

“yeah? you like being fucked like a dumb slut by the man you hate?” he asked, gruff voice in your ear, causing you to clench around his cock. “yeah. that’s what I thought. clenching around me like you need me,”

you couldn’t even say a proper sentence, just nodding off as he angled his hips to fuck you right where your g-spot was. his cock touched and rubbed against that spot, clit throbbing.

you felt as if you were seeing stars. oh god, katsuki wished he could see your pathetic face. drool falling from your chin because of the fact you were being fucked so dumb. his cock slipped in and out of you with ease, your sticky slick coating his poor needy cock.

the way he fucked into you as if you were nothing made both him and you so fucking horny. you needed release, feeling that knot in your stomach come so close to being undone.

“fuck yeah… yeah…!” he groaned, your pussy kept clenching the more he spoke those dirty words.

sooner rather than later you couldn’t stop, you couldn’t stop that insane feeling that was happening. you whined, fast breaths, shutting your eyes as you creamed on his cock, clenching him tightly, milking his fat cock.

the more you twitched around him, the more faster he fucked into you, he could feel the cream you made, a soft and moist feeling as he fucked into your velvet walls.

he straightened his posture, grabbing your hips in the air, fucking you like a fleshlight. sweat dripped from his forehead and he grunted and groaned. he was so close. he needed this.

he continued to fuck you, you moaning his name and only his, not caring if others heard.

“cum in me…! please! please!” you beg.

he let out an almost pornographic and sort of high pitched moan as his seed shot into you. along ropes of his cum filling you up. he kept rutting his hips, he couldn’t stop it, fucking the cum that seeped out of you back into your messy pussy. his moans getting so goddamn whiny.

“so good…! ah! so good, fuck! fuck!” he trembled, fucking you as much as he could.

after fucking you, his heart rate slowed down, as did his breathing. he set you down, collapsing next to you, heavy breaths as he stared at the tent ceiling.

“such a whore…” he mumbled, looking over at you. you were so drained, he pretty much fucked your brains out… and you wanted more.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The extra money makes the after-hours work a little less sluggish. It will be worth it when you get the deposit. Even so, you’re only human and the needling between your brow pangs deeper and deeper. 

You can’t help but mourn your free time. You haven’t been to the gym in more than a week and most nights you fall asleep without dinner. It’s a stepping stone. Once you have a handle on things, it won’t be as bad. 

You yawn and lean your head in your hands. You glance up through the transparent walls of your office. Those in the shared space are long gone. There might be a few other execs like yourself left but otherwise, it’s desolate. It’d be peaceful if traffic wasn’t rushing and honking below. 

You rub your nose and sit up. As you do, your door swings open, jarring you so your chair squeaks shrilly. You blather out nonsense as Bucky strides in. His hair is sweaty and slightly askew and his metal arm is on full show as the left sleeve of his jacket has been removed to accommodate it. You haven’t seen him often in anything other than his faded tees and jeans. 

“Oh, hey, uh...” you blink and fix the tilt of your seat. “What are you, em, doing here?” 

He snickers and strolls around your office. He stops at the shelf mounted on the wall and toys with the little golden rose in a crystal vase. It’s one of the few pieces of decor you’ve moved in. 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he plucks out the stem and admires it. “Working late? Again?” 

“You too.” You sit back to watch him. You cross one leg over the other and angle your head coyly. 

A ripple washes over you at the memory of your last time together. He was so rough and demanding. He’d kept you up all night, and in the morning, you as good as pushed him out your door. Something’s changed. Something you don’t quite like. 

“Oh, don’t play casual with me. I can hear your heartbeat jumping just like you wanna jump out of your panties,” he scoffs. 

You roll your eyes, “How many time do I have to--” 

“You say it but what woman doesn’t want a man who knows exactly what she’s thinking?” He interjects. 

“Like you do.” You shake your head and fold your arms. 

“Ah, come on, it’s been a while.” 

“I know. I’ve been busy. Working.” You pull your arms apart and roll closer to your desk. 

“I just got off myself so why don’t we get off together,” he twirls the rose as he nears. “Pull that skirt up, gimme a peek.” 

“Right. I really don’t have time. Sorry.” You look back to the screen as he stands just on the other side of the desk. Sweat beads in your scalp as he lurks there. He drops the artificial flower on the wood and huffs. 

“Strange. You’re too busy for me. Suddenly. Weren’t too busy a couple weeks ago. I seem to remember some begging,” he laughs. 

“Would you quit?” You sniff and look up at him, folding your hands atop each other. “This isn’t a game for me. I can’t fuck this up. Look, we had fun. It’s been fun but I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s... too much.” 

He’s quiet. He slowly leans down and plants his fingertips on the desk. He stares you down and you look up at him cautiously. A divet forms between his brows. 

“You can’t break up with me. We’re just fucking, so save the it’s not yous, it’s mes,” he hisses. 

“Exactly. We’re not breaking up, Bucky, because this was only ever sex, so please, just go. Find someone who give you what you want. Once you figure that out.” 

His cheeks tauten and his jaw squares. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt you--” 

“Hurt? Like you said.” He pushes himself away and the desk lurches. “It isn’t a relationship. Just a dirty, nasty hook-up.” He paces around your office. “The way I had you on your knees. Fuck, the way you wagged your ass for me. Good times.” He stops and claps his hands as he faces you again. “One last hurrah, how about it?” 

You sigh. You shift uneasily and grunt as you try to put your desk straight. It’s just another reminder of how he can do more. 

“I don’t think so.” You look up at him. “You need to go.” 

“Really? I came all the way here.” 

“I didn’t ask you to--” 

“I know you didn’t fucking ask but you were desperate for me every other time, weren’t you? Don’t act like you never wanted me.” He charges forward and you press yourself against your chair. You gulp and bat your lashes. He stops short and snorts. “Relax. What am I gonna do, huh? What did I ever do but exactly what you begged me to do?” 

He throws his hands up and shoves the air. 

“Enjoy your fucking soul-sucking job.” He twists on his heel and marches to the door. He lingers in the frame as he turns his head, his profile shadowy in the dim light of the outer offices. “See how far it gets you.” 

He storms out, leaving you stunned. You rehearsed it over and over. What you would say, how you would say it. You saw him laughing it off. You saw him shrugging and sighing. That was more than you could predict.  

It was him who insisted it was nothing from day one. You agreed because that was easy. Now it feels a lot more complicated. Or rather, did. 

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

when you and jj first get together, he really makes an effort to impress you. the boy doesn’t have much to give, having grown up with the shirt on his back and not much else, but he’s eager to make you feel special. he’s no stranger to women, being a pretty hot commodity for pogue girls and tourists but he never sticks around long enough for anything to be considered serious. he’s a free spirit at heart, and before he took interest in you, that boy couldn’t be tied down. your first date was one to remember, the only warning beforehand being a cryptic text saying: “meet me at the dock at 6?”

you’re ecstatic, even though he didn’t explicitly say it’s a date, you’re hoping it will be. you’re something of a hopeless romantic, and your growing crush on maybank was driving you crazy. you put on a pretty sundress, curl your hair into messy coils and pack one of your crocheted shoulder bag with your wallet and emergency lip gloss.

you get there right on time, the sun just starting to set over the marsh. you shuffle nervously to the end of the dock, where you find jj leaning over the wooden railing.

“jayj?” your voice is soft, trying not to startle him. he turns his head and his body follows, but before he can greet you he’s taken in by your dress, his blue eyes transfixed on it’s short frilly skirt. he’s in his usual garb, a white tee and cargo shorts, which you still find very charming. you blink up at him shyly, not knowing why you’re so nervous, after all it’s just jj.

“uh—hey!” he lifts his baseball cap, running his hand through his hair as he tries to keep his eyes on yours. “whatcha all dressed up for?”

“oh, i dunno. was just excited to get out of the house, i guess.” your cheeks heat up, suddenly concerned that you misread the situation entirely.

he nods. “i’m glad you did. y’look very nice.” he lets his eyes linger on your dress a second longer before he clears his throat and reaches for your hand. “would you.. be interested in an exclusive boat tour of this here marsh on the hms pogue?”

you slip your hand into his, tilting your head curiously. “ooo — i’d be honored.” he starts to lead you down the wooden ramp to where the boat is floating against the dock, and once it comes into view your sweet smile turns into surprise.

he spread out a picnic blanket over the front of the boat, and a big bowl of fruit, two subs from haywards, and an empty beer can stuffed with wildflowers sits in the center. you just feel warm, relieved that clearly your feelings are mutual, and this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. “oh — jj!” you jump into his arms, hugging him tight. “this is beautiful, you planned all of this?”

as you pull away to admire the boat again, his touch lingers on your waist, still holding you close. “‘course i did, cupcake. you like it?”

you huddle close to his side again, looking up at him with anticipation. “do i like it? i love it! this is amazing.”

“well, i’m glad.” jj smiles down at you before clearing his throat, getting flustered already. “c’mere, we should get out there while the sun’s still setting.” he takes hold of your hand, adjusting his hat again in an attempt to hide his rosy face. he helps you onto the boat, where you sit atop the blanket to admire the flowers he picked while he drives you out into the marsh.

the two of you fill the hot summer air with giggles over the roaring motor, but eventually the boat sputters to a stop at a nice clearing. the yellow and orange clouds paint over the still water beautifully, and singsonging birds chirp in the distance. the scene before you looks like something out of your favorite romance movies. jj makes his way to the bow, making sure the anchor is set.

“dig in, you don’t gotta wait on me.” he laughs and finally settles down next to you, popping a strawberry into his mouth casually. he gestures to the sandwiches, eyebrows creased in slight concern. “said you like italian, right?”

“oh yeah — who doesn’t?” you smile, helping yourself to some of the fruit too. “this is all so sweet, jayj. really.”

he waves a hand in the air, brushing it off. “well shucks, you’re sweet, cupcake.” he can’t keep his eyes off of you, between how your skin is glowing in the low sunlight, your dress, hair, lips — he can barely handle it. “y’deserve it, a girl like you’s once in a lifetime.”

you blink at him, his compliments going right to your burning cheeks. “you really think that?”

“you kidding? of course i do.” he rubs his jaw, shrugging like it’s obvious as he leans forward. “m’just lucky enough to be here with you.”

“jayj.” you lean on your arm, tilting your head as you stare back at him. you lick your glossy lips, and he feels like you can read his mind. your mind is spinning, heart racing as he moves closer, reaching gently to tuck your hair behind your ear. you lean into his palm, letting him guide you into a soft first kiss.

˚❀˚

[donatellawritings]

tella baby can i be 🧋anon? and while i have you here i am dyingggg to see how our sweetheart latina would handle rafe when he’s in his mean mood, sending you 💋

of course! i’m going to probably end up making an anon list to keep track lol - sending besitos right back <3

contrary to popular belief, it actually took a lot for rafe to become so annoyed and frustrated with you, that it bubbled into anger, depending on the day. you see, it was rare for you to act out, you were usually so smiley and willing to do anything, as long as you were by his side, but for some reason, you had become the complete opposite — you’d become a spoiled little brat. and it was safe to say that rafe was going to have to put a stop to your unruly behavior, before it became a bad habit.

it all started earlier in the morning, you were dead set on having a girls’ day with kiara, anxious to go shopping on the mainland and carefully examine the turtle eggs that were dangerously close to hatching. you had your outfit picked out - a freakishly short skirt that clung to your curves, the smooth curve of your ass being the only thing that kept the skirt from riding up and revealing your lace thong & a juicy couture baby tee that stuck to your skin, as if you were wet, your unconcealed nipples making an imprint against the flimsy cloth.

rafe knew of these plans, and normally, he was okay with whatever you decided to wear, seeing as he was usually right on your tail, tanned arm wrapped securely around your waist as you made your way through the outer banks. yet, the thought of you prancing your little naively friendly ass through not only the island, but in the far distance of the mainland just didn’t sit right with him. especially, once his eyes fell on how with each movement you made, the under-curve of your ass was starting to become more and more apparent.

there was no chance in hell that he was going to let you go out, at least not in that outfit.

choosing to take the approach of being the sweet and devoted boyfriend, who’d give you everything that you wished for, rafe carefully approached you from behind, gently locking his hands around your hips as you precisely pressed a powder puff under the freshly concealed skin of your under eye, “hi pretty girl, s’this what you’re wearing today?” he questioned sweetly, sliding his arms around your front, earning a blushing close-mouthed smile from you.

you nodded, pressing the powder puff to your opposite under eye as rafe gently pulled you against his chest, making you stand upright against him as he took in the your reflections in the mirror of your vanity, his smile fading as your skirt bunched up at the valley where you hips and thighs met, “i don’t think so, mama,” he decided, condescendingly tapping the exposed skin on the side of your thighs, before pulling away from you.

initially oblivious to just how serious rafe was being, you adjusted your skirt, a forced breathy laugh leaving your swollen lips, “yes, i am,” you playfully bit back, missing the way rafe cocked his head at you as you returned to perfecting your unfinished makeup.

rafe stood dumbfounded, his head cocked to the side as he nodded to himself in disbelief - you had to be fucking with him, this had to be a joke. wordlessly, rafe blamed himself - maybe he spoiled you a bit too much, maybe he was too soft with you, maybe, just maybe, you were just fucking with him and would change into different clothes, before you left, just to get a rise out of him?

you carefully brushed your spoolie through the wispy lashes that enhanced your naturally curled ones, bending over the vanity a bit further to get a close-up look of your makeup. you could feel rafe’s unforgiving eyes burning holes into you as you carefully smeared your sheer pink dior lipgloss across your lined lips, before pulling away from the vanity and turning to face rafe, “rafe, why are you looking at me like that? you’re making me feel bad,” you pouted, your stomach sinking as he shrugged, before making his way out of your bedroom.

“y’wanna go out dressed like that, then do it - but don’t fuckin’ call me when some guy tries taking advantage of your little ass and your cousin can’t protect you,” rafe spoke eerily calmly, his low tone sending a shock to your nervous system as you rolled your eyes, prohibiting the threatening warm tears from welling in your eyeliner laced eyes.

rafe was about two feet out of your bedroom door when he heard you sniffle, “i don’t need you to protect me.” you mumbled boldly, causing rafe to stop still in his tracks, forcing out a dark laugh before he paced backwards into your bedroom.

“what did you just say?” he asked, watching the way you jumped as he re-entered your room, the sight of your skirt riding up, once again, while you threw your necessities into your purse causing his jaw to lock.

your eyes widened, your chest thumping as you could’ve sworn he was out of earshot, choosing to remain silent as you pulled your purse to sit comfortably on your shoulder. your french manicured nails dug into the leather strap of your purse as you kept your head down, forcing your tear-blurred gaze to stay strained on your sandaled feet. it wasn’t until rafe had stood directly in front of you, his rough hand squeezing your cheeks as he lifted your head, forcing you to look up at him.

“i’ve been tryin’ really hard not to lose my patience with you, kid, okay?” he confessed, his shoulders tense as he tightened his grip on your doll face, “watch how you speak to me, before that fucking mouth gets you into trouble,” he added, before hastily snatching his hand away from your face as he backed away from you.

you rapidly blinked away the mascara and eyeliner tinted tears that fought to spill from your waterline as you bit into the sore skin of your bottom lip. you knew that you’d purposely been testing the waters all week with rafe, a sick part of you became obsessively curious to see that other side of him that those closest to you warned you about and were freakishly afraid of. however, a damaged part of you liked seeing rafe let his guard down and assert his dominance over you, behind your cloud tears, you were somewhat enticed by it.

you silently made your way downstairs as the sound of kiara’s car horn blaring accompanied the slap of your sandals against the hardwood floor. rafe closed the distance between you two as you made it to the living room, nudging your chin with the side of his ringed finger, “don’t start crying, you started that shit, y’been acting up all week,” he waved his hand.

you opened your mouth to speak, but were quickly cut off by rafe who beat you to the punch, knowing he’d give in to you the moment he heard your voice, so he placed his titanium debit card into your free hand, before stepping out of your way, motioning his hand towards the front door, “y’don’t need me to protect you, so go,” he spat, even going so far as to walk towards your front door.

“stop it, rafe,” you whined, rushing to grab his hand before he could open the front door, a sharp sniffle coming from your nose as you wrapped your arms around his tense neck, “i’m sorry,” you mumbled into the side of his neck, pressing your glossed lips to the skin. you let out a soft whine when rafe remained still, his arms refusing to enclose around you.

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, standing in the tips of your toes as you tried to pull his closer to you — but rafe wouldn’t budge.

you pulled your head away from rafe’s neck, your once precise eyeliner now slightly smudged as rafe looked down at you, a look of displeasure still painted on his structured face. your soft shadowy eyes welled with tears as you accepted that you had pushed him to this point of silence. rafe remained silent for the sake of not wanting to fully lash out at you, he knew that he could break you pretty easily and figured that he wouldn’t stoop that low, unless he truly needed to.

rafe pulled your arms from around him, his large hands now gripping your wrists, “y’want me to talk to you, princess?” he cooed menacingly, a sick smirk tugging on his pink lips as you nodded furiously.

“okay, tell kiara that you’re not coming out today,” rafe demanded, shaking his head the moment you tried to protest, pressing his forehead against yours as he backed your against the door.

“but she’s already here, an-” you spoke, pressing your lips together as rafe kissed his teeth.

“i don’t give a fuck, tell her-” he pressed his forehead deeper into yours.

“babe, plea-” you cried.

rafe dropped one of your wrists from his grasp, before sliding it behind your head, fjsting a generous amount of your loosely curled hair, tugging your head back, “shut the fuck up, i swear to god i am trying to be fuckin’ nice,” he spoke through gritted teeth, biting back a laugh as he pulled away from you entirely.

rafe ran his hands through his buzzed hair, before turning to face you once more, “get the fuck upstairs!” he screamed, his voice hoarse, “fuck!” he shouted.

your sticky lips parted, you kept your head down as you made your way towards the staircase that led to your bedroom. before you could successfully walk past rafe, he grabbed your waist, his hands closing around your throat, “do you think i’m a fuckin’ joke, like i’m one of these fuckin’ guys that you could just bitch around, huh?” he ranted, your body bent at an uncomfortable angle as he lightly shook you by your neck.

“no,” you cried, your small hand wrapping around his flexed wrist.

“stop fucking with me, a’ight - i don’t want to fuckin’ break you,” he sealed with a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat, his spit making your mouth slippery as some of your own spit made its way down your chin.

rafe roughly pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting your lips as he wiped his mouth, leaving you a dumbfounded mess with your smeared, spit covered lipgloss that smudged onto your chin.

“go upstairs,” he breathed out, walking towards the front door, giving himself the task of telling kiara that you wouldn’t be joining her for today’s festivities.

putting the bratty act to rest, you softly smiled to yourself as you jogged upstairs, your miniskirt riding up with each bounce of your hips.

[dipperscavern]

i know you already talked a bit about mean!robb but what about the other stark men? do you think theyre ever mean? do you think youd have to ask them? or would you be able to push their buttons to get them to go to town in you? are they mean in different way?

i just want to know more about the starks being meanies in bed 😮‍💨

GOOODNIIIIIIIIIIGHT SAVANNAH. MEAN STARKS MEAN STARKS

okay, so, all the starks are inherently gentleman. it’s in their blood, and how they were raised. northmen don’t PLAY about their women. but, that’s not saying they can’t be mean.

cregan. i’m sweating.. okay. cregan can be “mean”, but i’m imagining a very specific type of mean. instead of punishing you, it’s more of him showing you what he really can do to you. remember when i said cregans pace in eating you out would be slower, but it would be really intense? i think it’s the same for fucking. when cregans being mean its very intense and overwhelming. like, crying into the pillow limbs shaking overwhelming. robb is very taunting when he’s mean, but cregan wouldn’t even say anything. just letting his body do the talking. however, if you could see him, you’d see the smile on his face (tee hee).

i don’t think you’d even necessarily have to ask cregan to be mean or rough. he’d see it as an attitude adjustment. oh… oh walk with me. if you’re being snappy all day, plain rude and disregarding everything he’s saying, he gives you a warning. he reminds you of his size after a particular snarky comment, backing you against the wall without even using his hands to push you. just pauses in his tracks, looks at you, sees you unwavering, and stalks toward you without word. then, if it continues, he’ll just push you towards your chambers silently with a hand on the small of your back.

he’d definitely gauge your reactions throughout the day to make sure that it’s what you’re really after, and when he’s proven right, even in the middle of an attitude adjustment he’s making sure he’s not pushing your limits too far. he’s attentive, even when he’s bullying his cock in you. 🫠

[coughs and almost throws up on myself. sits back in my office chair and leans out the open door] LINDA. CAN WE GET MEAN JON SNOW ON THE PHONE?!

with jon, he’s only able to be mean in a dirty context. sorry but u can’t convince me otherwise. out of a dirty context, robb could definitely be mean. cregan could be assertive…. hm… IM GETTING OFF TRACK.

jon is a patient man. he’s understanding, and honestly, you might have to give him some serious hints on what you want. he could definitely get the idea on his own, but it would be better/easier to talk to him about it. he would be unsure at first, afraid of hurting you, but if you push his buttons you’d get what you want. when you’re being snarky and pushing his buttons, he’d just give you these looks. his eyes are dark, and he’s clearly frustrated, but he won’t do anything in front of other people. he’d make you think he let it slide, and then you’re walking to your shared chambers & he’s suddenly dragging you there, closing the door & pushing you against it.

and… can i be real… i don’t think he’d even use his cock. you love when jon uses his mouth on you. he’s so good at it, it’s almost like a reward. but, with that being said… edging. that’s his way of being mean. he’s skilled with his tongue, he knows how to make you cum. so he won’t. he’ll get you there, he’ll make you get soooo close — and then pull away, making you whine. he’s not mad forever though, and he can’t resist making you cum for long. he just needs to get his frustration out, then you can finish <3

oh but.. freshly post resurrection jon snow. i think he needs to fuck you. hard. bend you over till you’re crying. he’s grunting and panting,. and… and…. [i go limp] [lindas voice crackles over the intercom] “SHES DOWN! CODE BLACK” [emts come and retrieve me with a stretcher]

[leonw4nter]

So High School

RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader

You’d think that you would’ve learned a thing or two from making bets while tipsy and buzzing with liquid courage while intoxicated during your time in university, stupid decisions with their stupid outcomes ingrained in your head every time the tequila started to taste like water, which meant that it’s probably time to pay the tab and try to head home in one piece. A drunk man’s words really must be a sober man’s thoughts, the alcohol doing the final push to make the first move you’ve dreamed of doing towards your mysterious roommate, Leon. Him being gone for most of the time and for uncertain lengths of time gave you plenty of time to get it together and rehearse asking him for a coffee but whenever he was around, in the same space as you, it’s as if you never gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Basketball?” Leon echoed, slight confusion on his angular features as he nursed a glass of whiskey. “You sure?”

“‘Course,” you confidently respond, shooting him a sure grin. “Jus’ because I’m built like this doesn’t mean I don’t know how to ball.”

Leon chuckles, nodding before he shoots what remains in his glass. “That’s a bet. Loser buys the winner dinner, right?”

You throw him a clumsy thumbs-up. He inches closer towards you and holds his hand out for you to shake. “Gotta make it official.”

A handshake seals the deal, along with the fate that will befall you a few days later after he’s finally free from whatever work kept him occupied.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now you’re digging around your wardrobe, looking for any sports-friendly clothing. You rarely work out or take some time off, very much out of shape so you’re already at a massive disadvantage with Leon. The man probably works out every single day, carrying the heaviest weights they have in the gym. Maybe even Leg Day’s golden boy, seeing how his thighs bulge within the confines of his pants and the way his calves looked sturdy as hell. If he somehow doesn’t know the nitty gritty of basketball and only knows the basic dribbling, you’re still going to be on the losing side because he’s got stamina and endurance that would last him hours, days even. He’s got height advantage too and it’s not that you’re tiny, it’s just going to be impossible to shoot with a skyscraper blocking the ball. Then again, it’s not like the ball will make it inside the ring even if he wasn’t doing anything to block it.

“Why’d I make that stupid, stupid bet?” You hiss to yourself as you finally snag a pair of black cotton fleece shorts. It still seemed to fit you so you threw it on the bed, moving to look for a top and some shoes to pair it with. “I’m going to lock myself in my room if I’m going to drink with him around.”

Taken over by indecisiveness yet still determined to look good while sweaty in terms of outfit choice, you decide to phone your friend for some advice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“I’m going to play basketball in… 15 minutes and I don’t know what to pair with my shorts.” You show it off inside the frame, twirling around as your friend looks on.

“It’s just shorts, you can pair it with anything. Why’s it so hard for you?”

“You don’t get it, man. I need to look perfect, even when I’m sweaty and smelly and tomato red–”

“Are you seeing someone?!”

“What? No! Well, I mean… I think they look good and ya know, I might have to buy him dinner because there’s no way I’m winning this.”

“Buy him dinner? Oh wait, this is the bet thing right–”

“Yeah… I’m never going to drink again, actually. This is the dumbest, stupidest decision of my life.”

“You’ve said that a million times but still drank and got drunk. Look where we are now.”

“Hey! I’m serious this time! And help me plan out an outfit!”

“Well shit, I dunno! A v-neck tee and a pair of Converse sneakers, simple but you’ll look cute. Right! Make the sneakers high cut.”

“Oh my god, thanks! I think I got those–”

A few gentle knocks tap against your door, Leon on the other side. You quickly skip to the door, not opening it too generously in order to block out the sight of your clothes lying everywhere on the side of your dresser.

“I hope you didn’t forget about the deal you made,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’m looking forward to dinner actually.”

You wanted to tell him that you were in the process of getting ready, having picked out what you’ll wear. You wanted to tell him that you’ll be ready in a few, bag loaded with a spare shirt and towels slung over your shoulder but the response stays frozen in your mind, unable to escape your mouth; if you tilt your head down and dare to look somewhere south, you’ll first be greeted by two blocks of solid square muscle straining through the black, short-sleeved shirt he wore, the color slightly faded with the amount of times he must’ve worn it. The real magnet, however, was the gray sweatpants he chose to wear. Nasty, filthy images flashed through your head as soon as you caught a glimpse of gray, shaking your head to clear your brain. He topped the look off with a neat pair of gray high top Converse sneakers, the shoes not worn that much since it looked newly bought.

“You didn’t back out, did you?” Leon chuckles, sending you back to Earth. “It’s okay if you did, I don’t wanna–”

“Naw, of course not! I was just about to get ready, sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Great, I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’ll fill up our bottles while you get dressed, also got the ball ready. Borrowed it from a friend,” he says as he points to the ball kept in the nook of his curled muscular arm.

You give him a thumbs up, closing the door as he turns around to head to the direction of the living room. Skipping to your phone and seeing that you haven’t dropped the call yet, you quickly explain what happened to your friend and end it, chucking it inside your bag as you get ready.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This outfit has got to be a distraction tactic,” you think to yourself as you walk to the outdoor court alongside Leon, occasionally dribbling the ball. “This man knows that gray sweats are a distraction and I’m going to end up focusing on the ball that is definitely not on his hand!”

If Leon did in fact decide on his current choice of clothing as a form of distraction, it might just work on you and you dislike the fact that it’s already working before the game even began.

“I like your shoes,” he says as he gestures to the pink sneakers you chose to wear in order to contrast the white and black of your upper clothing. “It suits you well.”

You mumble a thank you, also complimenting him. “You look good in sneakers too, I think you should wear it more often.”

His twinkling laughter kicks you in the back of the knee, weak from how fuzzy it made you feel. He nods and takes a mental note before he looks back down at his shoes, glad that you noticed the influence of your fashion choices on him. 10 minutes later, you two reach the court. Chucking your bags to a quiet corner of the court, the two of you head to the middle of the court; Leon passes you the ball, giving you a headstart to try and score your first point.

“I take it that you know the rules?” He asks as he moves into a defensive stance, crouching down slightly with bent knees.

“Yup,” you respond before not wasting any time and running to his side of the ring to shoot the ball. To no one’s surprise, the ball does a little twirl right at the rim before falling back down only to be snagged by Leon’s large hand without warning. “Hey!” you squeal, running after him. He waits for you to catch up with him before he makes a jump shot, sending the ball flying and into the ring as a satisfying thwoop follows the ball's entry in the net.

He easily gains four points ahead, dodging, turning, and expertly dribbling to trick you into thinking that he let the ball out of his sight. You can’t even be frustrated that you haven’t gotten a single point ever since the game started, too delighted in the genuine laughter and giggles coming from Leon; his smiles were sparse, blue eyes an ocean storm each time he came home. A rare smile would leave just as quick you caught one on his face, his face returning to look troubled but this time, he looked free and happier than you usually see him. Now, he gained an additional 3 points and grew even cockier with the wide gap of scores, along with the non-existent possibility of you winning over him. Despite your glee at seeing Leon look relaxed, you wanted to at least end the game with a point to your name. Leon didn’t mention anything about playing dirty and although he didn’t mention it because he assumed that you knew the rules and playing dirty was automatically out of the cards, you couldn’t help but feel a little devious.

Just as Leon softly nudged you, you over exaggerated a bent ankle and fell down, most of the impact centered on the heel of your palms. Though it hurt, it didn’t hurt too badly but Leon still let go of the ball and rushed to your side, the smile disappearing as he saw you sat on the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he assessed your ankle, knee, and hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

You got up and ran after the ball, pushing down the guilt that started to bubble up when you saw the hurt and fear that crossed Leon’s face. Finally, you caught up with the ball and dribbled it as you ran towards the hoop, jumping to shoot it. You expected an effort in vain, the ball to simply dance around the ring before dropping down but fortunately for you, the ball went inside the ring. Satisfied with ending the game at a single point for you, you flop down to the ground as you catch your breath. Leon skips up behind you, sitting by your side before he lays back on the dusty ground alongside you.

“Hey,” he pants as he catches his breath. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Didn’t say anything about playing dirty,” you quip as you tilt your head to face him.

“Played dirty but you still didn’t win, that’s a damn shame.” He says as he also tilts his own head to face you, a small smile dancing on his lips. He seems to have smiled a lot that day, you note. “I won, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh shut up, don’t let it get to your head… and, uh… um… thanks for being concerned for me, when I faked falling earlier. Felt kinda bad to be lying to you.”

“Hey, no biggie. I’m thankful that this one’s fake, most people on the ground that I see at work are beyond helping so I’m glad that you’re fine.”

Your eyes widen, his words triggering concern from you. Work? People on the ground beyond helping? Just what is this guy’s job? He doesn’t explain more about his job so you don’t pry for more, waiting for the time that he’s a lot more comfortable around you to share if he wishes to.

“So,” you say to change the subject. “What kinda dinner do you want? Nothing too expensive, though.”

“A dinner with you,” he smoothly responds. You sit up, resting your weight on your arms.

“Huh?”

“I want dinner with you. Anywhere, just take me out to dinner. A date, if that’s what you want to call it. Please.”

You stay silent, taking the time to process his words. He hasn’t shown a sliver of attraction towards you so his words take you by surprise but you’re pleased– very pleased.

“A date,” you quietly echo. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“When are you free?”

“On the 20th.”

“Me too.”

“So… that’s a date then?”

He nods, grinning. He gets up first, extending a hand to you as you both begin the walk back home.

NOTE - Not rlly sure on how to end this so it ended on a meh note 😭🙏 Writer's block got my ass, unfortunately. Anyways, I think I need to get my jaw checked bc the left side of my jaw clicks and hurts when I open my mouth widely to yawn or brush my teeth so yea :3 Almost forgot to mention that the title is based off of "So High School" by TS. I gotta feed my DMC readers in AO3 too so I'll dedicate some time to cooking something for them before returning to posting more Leon fics :3 Found out Laufey has a boyfriend and I fell to my knees as if I had a chance with her in the first place but I'm still very happy that she's finally found love and trusts someone enough to treat her well. Anyways, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and star) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[jeon-ify]

request from @sanspuppet !!

8. wanna fuck you in the back seat

21. atta girl, taking it so deep on your stomach

.MDNI.

—————————————————————————————

deep in the back seat- keeho

“my god keeho, you never wanna go on road trips! its only 4 hours its not like-“ he sighed. he never likes driving. ever. and if he ever did drive, it’ll only be around the city, or to go on dates— but never for over 30 minutes.

lately, you’ve been wanting to go to another state. road trips are so much fun, but only with keeho. he made everything so much more fun and elevated. he listens to the same music, he raps the same verses you do, and he just gets it.

“ok, yeah we’ll go. but don’t expect me to drive the entire way there, baby. at least drive half way.” he argues. he’s wearing a white tee that hugs his neck so perfectly, and black baggy sweatpants. he’s wearing the chain you got him for his birthday, and the cologne you bought him for christmas. it’s his favorite.

you can’t stop staring no matter how hard you tried. he likes arguing with you just to argue with you. it turns him on. but at things like this, its kinda hard to tell if he’s serious or not.

“kee, are you serious..” you drop your eyes and lose all recollection of whatever he just said.

“kee, i’ll drive wherever, baby. just go with me. we’ll have so much fun,” you beg, and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes drop to your lips.

“i’ll come with you, pookie. but you gotta play my song. promise me baby.”

keeho LOVES dirty music. his favorite was ‘friends’ by chase atlantic.

“yesss, i’ll play it!!” you laugh.

———————

the drive out of state is so much more fun with keeho. he’s still in the same clothes he was in at home, but you’re wearing a crop and his black sweats. he wasnt any smaller or bigger than you, but his clothes are gonna be a tad bit baggier.

“AND WHAT THE HELL WERE WE?? TELL ME WE WERENT JUST FRIENDS!!! THIS DOESNT MAKE MUCH SENSE NO” you’re both screaming with the windows down, your hand in your boyfriend’s face, and his chain shining in the sun.

the song comes to an end and you and him take a deep breath. “my god, never gets old.” he says. he looks at you in a way you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“baby, pull over.” he asks, making all the eye contact possible.

“wait what? we’re literally almost there. relax, kee.” he wants to fuck you.

“if you dont pull over in the next 10 minutes, y/n.” he threatens. you don’t wanna push his buttons so you speed up and find an empty parking lot.

“okay!! god, i’m pulling over stop fucking yelling!” you argue. you really really want him to fuck you.

“get in the back. wanna fuck you in the back seat, pretty girl.” he groans and stares at your ass while you move to the back. he takes his shirt off while youre switching seats, and he follows you. he sits in the middle, manspreading and his cock hard the entire ride. you see it twitch just a little bit and you shift your eyes to his collarbone.

“kee, what’s gotten you so worked up, hm?” you ask, your doe eyes staring straight into his sharp almond eyes. you run your fingers up his collarbones and to his neck.

“you look too pretty, baby. couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you right here. want you on my cock ‘til youre screaming.” he moans. he moans.

his voice sends a thrill to your pussy and he grabs your hair and pushes you deeper into his kiss. he owns you, he owns your body and you willingly gave into him. the kiss is all tongue and teeth, he’s deep in your mouth and he tastes like the sweetest candy. “kee, please. please touch me.” you moan. he moves his hand to your throat and applies pressure right below your jaw, and he watches the way your eyes roll back.

“get on top of me baby, don’t even need to prep you, you’re soaking my fuckin’ pants.” he puts his middle and ring finger in your mouth and fucks your throat with his hand. “there you go, baby. get me soaked, all over baby. fuckkkk.” his eyes roll back and you feel him twitch again under you.

he moves his hand from your mouth and runs them under your pants just to feel that you were already fucking soaked since before you left the house 2 hours ago. “keeho, fucking do something please, j-just want you- mmmm.” you moan , as if he fucked you stupid already.

“need to stretch you out before i fuck you, can you even handle me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrow in faux concern and that alone makes you cum. he pushes his soaked fingers into your hole at an ungodly pace, the heel of his hand pushing against your clit. the rush sends you squirting all over his abs and his lower stomach. “fuck, kee, ‘m sorry baby, i’ll clean you up.” you apologize and he shows no emotion, yet he just wants to fuck you and get it over with. he’s rock hard. he needs you.

“take your pants off. take your top off. don’t say a fucking word.” he grabs your neck yet again. he licks your lips like you were a popsicle, and he kisses your chin and brings you to a deeper haze, by applying more pressure.

you take off your top and he squeezes your left tit and sucks on the right one. you feel him pressing into you but you can’t make a sound. he feels you clenching around him already.

“i feel you squeezing my dick, pretty. feels like heaven.” he groans, he’s fucking up into you and your head is muzzled in his neck. you suck the spot right below his ear and he sighs. the more you suck on it, the deeper his thrusts get.

“mmm, kee, please fuck.” you moan. you’re so loud and he’s so deep, you see his dick literally right above your belly button pumping you full.

“fuck baby, look at that. see it in my stomach you’re so fucking big.” you grab his hand and put it on the spot he keeps hitting.

“atta girl, look at you taking it so deep in your stomach. so fucking pretty. my beautiful whore.” he kisses your nipple and sucks. hard.

“kee! fuck i’m cumming!” you stutter. his hips speed up and you cum all over his cock.

“there you go baby, keep fucking cumming on me. so messy baby. love you like this.” he groans and grabs your hair and pulls your head up so he licks a stripe right up your neck.

“fuck baby, fucking squeezing me. cum again with me baby. need to fill you up.” his hips speed up and thumb strums your clit and your entire body twitches.

he reaches his orgasm and a layer of sweat coat his face and neck.

“my god baby, we need to go on more road trips together.” he laughs.

“told you, dumbass.”

———————————

I HOPE THIS IS GOOD IDKKKK TYSM AGAIN

#keeho

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Slasher Handler Part 11 - Slip Lead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Read on AO3

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Implied stalking/surveillance, implied kidnapping, physical injury, deception/emotional manipulation, physical violence, injury with knife, genuinely not enough information, hidden weapons

Something about stabbing him, about meeting Price, has resulted in you being able to stray a bit farther from Simon’s orbit. You’re still on a rather short lead, there is a list of unspoken rules between the two of you as long as your arm. But you’re going out alone more. You don’t feel Simon’s eyes on you every moment he’s out of your sight. It’s weird.

But when it comes to Simon, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you start a routine of going to the cafe down the street twice a week or so to work and see other human beings. It’s surprisingly difficult, some days. More than once, you’ve felt too exposed and retreated back home. These days, you have more good days than bad. As long as people don’t talk to you too much, you’re fine.

So it’s a bit jarring when someone clears his throat while you’re wrangling spreadsheets.

The man is in a light jacket, tee shirt and jeans. Looks like he works out. Kind of a stupid haircut, but he’s at least committed to it. Very distinct looking, Simon’s voice says in your head, easy to track. Unlikely to cause problems.

Something about him makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“D’ya mind?” he gestures to the chair across from you. At your skeptical look, he rushes to assure you, “ Jus’ fer mah coffee, ‘n t’read,” holding up a thick paperback. He gestures to the rest of the cafe. “Wouldnae bother you, but this’s the only open chair.”

The shop is unusually crowded. You frown up at him. “I’m really busy.”

“Willnae hear a peep from me,” he promises, setting down his coffee and pulling out the chair across from you. He turns the chair so he’s facing more of the room instead of the corner you’re in. And he opens his book.

You watch him for a minute, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but you do need to work. With a last wary glance at him, you settle your headphones over your ears - transparency on - and get back to organizing a data set that reminds you of a ball of duct tape.

It’s time for a break before you know it. Your companion, true to his word, hasn’t said a peep since he sat down, more than an hour ago. He barely looks up as you close your laptop before turning back to his book. He does look up when you flag down one of the servers.

“Lunch,” you say, inanely. To the server, you say, “Can I get the chicken sandwich today?”

“Chips ‘n a lemonade, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They turn to your table mate. “And for you?”

“The same, ah guess?” He raises his eyebrows at you, like he expects you to give him permission or something. He looks back at the server. “Yeah, a chicken piece for me, as well. ‘Nd a juice?”

“Separate checks?”

“Aye, ta,” the guy says. When the server leaves, he blanches. “Hope you dinnae mind.”

You do mind, but it’s not like he can sit anywhere else right now. “It’s fine.”

He sets his book on the table, and your eyebrows shoot up. Whatever you thought he’d be reading, Jurassic Park wasn’t it. He grins. “Ah ken. It’s old, yeah? But it’s a damn sight better’n the movie.”

“Isn’t that how it goes,” you say, vaguely. 

But you’ve already fallen into his trap. He turns his chair to face you, crossing his arms and leaning into the table. His eyes are unnervingly blue - somehow even bluer than Simon’s - and bright with interest. “’M serious. It’s not just that a character yells in the movie and speaks softly in the book, aye? In fact, the movie made Dr. Sattler older, aye? Great choice, emphasize ‘er expertise.” 

Aging up a woman character? You’re reluctantly intrigued. “She was a less important character in the book?”

“Nae,” the man scoffs. “She’s probably the first o’em to realize how shite the whole thing is. Notices things. Stuff the other’s aren’t payin’ attention to because she’s the plant expert, an’ naebody pays attention to plants.”

You find yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself. Johnny, as he introduces himself, has obviously been waiting for a chance to talk about it, but he’s not pushy. He excitedly pulls a pen from his pocket to doodle along with his explanations. By the time your food has arrived, he’s convinced you to at least try the audiobook.

“I cannae pay attention stuff in mah ears,” he says with a grin as he starts to dig in. “But I hear good things, if you don’t ‘ave time to sit an’ read the text.”

As you nod along, you look up and almost choke on your next swallow. Simon is outside, looking at you through the window with raised eyebrows above his usual black surgical mask. His eyes flick to give the man at your table an obvious once over. And then he turns away and walks out of sight.

“Ye alrigh’?” Johnnys’ eyebrows are up near his hairline when you look back at him. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, torn between staying seated and the urge to run after Simon. You can’t help but look at the window again, but he’s gone, there’s nothing for it. “Sorry, I thought… Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get the audiobook.”

When you get home, Simon is on the couch, the TV on with the volume low. He watches you, like he always does, as you take off your shoes and shuffle around to put away your things. When you finally join him on the couch, you find that he’s watching a nature documentary. A crocodile slides under the water with barely a ripple.

“He was only sitting with me because there wasn’t anywhere else,” you rush to say.

Simon turns to cock his head at you. “You get ‘is name?”

“John. Johnny,” you answer. “He told me about his book, but I left as soon as we were done eating.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. He lifts the arm closest to you, pulling you close as you settle into his side. “’S good to have friends, Precious.”

“He’s not a friend. Just some guy out to lunch like everyone else.” 

“You let him stay,” Simon points out. He squeezes you in a rough approximation of a one armed hug. “Been nervous around people, but you’re gettin’ better.”

This isn’t what you expected. You can’t help but side-eye him. “You’re… proud of me?”

Simon’s lips press gently against your forehead. “’S long as you pick better this time, I don’t mind you ‘aving friends. Can’t keep you all to myself forever. ‘Sides, you’ve marked me proper, ‘aven’t you? Got me as your little pet. Johnny’s not gonna be a problem.”

The little pink scar around his ribs is little more than a raised line. You slide your fingers under his shirt to pet at it. Among all of his scars, it’s one of the smallest. You’d cried the first time he’d let you see under the bandages.

“You’re not a pet,” you grumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re an alligator who won’t leave my house.”

“Your alligator, now,” Simon agrees. He focuses back on the television, seemingly done with the conversation.

You could leave it at that. But you turn to face him, instead. “You’re not mad?”

“Not unless ‘e ‘urts ya.” Simon presses his lips against your hair. “An’ I wouldn’t let that ‘appen.”

The following week, though, he stands over you with an exaggerated grimace at how crowded the place is. “Och, d’ya mind?”

Johnny is there the next time you go to the cafe. He waves from his table, but ducks back into his notebook without waving you over. So you work from your own table in peace. When you take a break for lunch, he’s gone. Two days later, it’s the same. It’s easier to concentrate, now that you’re less worried that he’ll take the conversation from the other day as an invitation. 

With a sigh, you clear some space for him. But just like last time, he keeps to himself, reading and occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. It’s not until just before lunch that he breaks the silence.

“D’y’ve a boyfriend then?” You can’t keep yourself from cringing fast enough, apparently, because he laughs. “Sorry, sorry, shouldnae asked.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble.

“Aw,” he coos. “Don’ worry hen. You’re right bonnie. Ah’m sure they’ll come around, whoever they are.”

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t so painfully off base. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, you’re right done wit’ me,” he laughs. “Ah ken’t I shoulda kept mah mouth shut. Ma always said runnin’ mah mouth would get me into trouble. I won’t bother ye again.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t push, and you’re grateful. But when it comes time to pay for lunch, he insists on paying. It grates on your nerves. A gift from a guy is never just generosity, you learned that long before Brandon. But you clench your jaw and pack your bag up a bit more roughly than usual and say your goodbyes.

“They didn’t have the brownies you wanted,” you announce as you return home from the grocer, two days later. “I think it was a limited edi…tion…”

You notice Simon watching through the window, but he’s there and gone before you can get a read on his expression.

There’s a smattering of blood on the entryway carpet.

You don’t drop the bag with the eggs, but only because your muscles are locked up. Did someone break into the apartment? Was Simon here when they did, or next door? Did they leave? Did he take them?

A sound makes you gasp before you bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood. And then again, a muffled groan, close, from the direction of your couch. 

It’s not Simon’s voice.

You gently set your bags down and reach behind the coats for the blackjack Simon insisted on leaving there for security. There’s a rustling. Another groan. You stoop low, trying to make yourself a smaller target, and creep around the edge of the couch.

When you see Johnny, bound and gagged, shirt covered in blood where he lies on the floor, your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, dropping the jack with a thump. You crawl over to him, looking around frantically. Simon is nowhere to be seen. But he did this. He had to have done this. Right?

Johnny twitches, groans again, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees you, his eyes go wide, and he frantically tries to sit up.

“No, don’t! I don’t know where you’re hurt,” you hiss. You reach around his head to untie the cloth that’s gagging him. “Oh my god-”

“We gotta get out’f here, bonnie,” he grunts, leaning into your hands as you help him upright. He spits blood on the floor. “No tellin’ when that mental bastard gets back.”

“Oh god,” you whisper again, touching the front of his shirt. It’s dark and sticky in a bloom across his chest. “Where are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

“Ah’m okay,” he grunts. “A bit banged up, but ah’ll live.”

You swallow down the urge to vomit. “There’s a lot of blood, Johnny.”

“S’nae all mine,” he answers. “C’mon, untie me, before Simon gets back.”

You’re shifting to reach behind him before your mind catches up. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “W-what? What did you say?”

“We need to get out of here!”

“No, you said his name, you called him - ”

“Simon? That’s what ye called him when you came home,” he hisses. 

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper, body stuttering between frozen and electrified. You never call Simon’s name where others can hear. “And - and I - you - you were unconscious.”

Shining blue eyes stare into yours from two inches away. Johnny’s bloody mouth curls into a smile. “Oh, he’s trained you up good, he has.”

You scream when he lunges forward, huge arms grabbing at you. 

His weight crushes the air out of your lungs when your back hits the ground. You twist under him, using the arm he hasn’t trapped to grab his hair and yank. He swears, and loosens his hold just enough that you’re able to free your other hand and jab him in the throat.

You expect the way that he chokes, but the hand he’s twisted in the back of your shirt stays locked tight. He coughs out a frenzied laugh as you twist. Your heart races as he prevents you from getting your knees up between your belly and his. But he doesn’t expect you to hammer the heel of your boot against the back of his knee, or how you use the leverage against his leg to roll away onto your belly. 

He doesn’t let go of you, but that’s fine, that’s okay, as long as you can reach under the edge of the couch. Johnny pounces, body curling around you without quite pinning you down. His fingers twist into your hair in an echo of how you wrenched at him. But he doesn’t stop your hand, grabbing the leg of the couch and then reaching under and up and-

“Try again, Bonnie,” Johnny chuckles into your ear when your hand meets nothing but cotton and wood.

Your heart doesn’t have time to stop. The grinding pain between your hip bone and the floor makes you pop up your pelvis and reach down. The tiny knife, Little K, jumps to your hand. It’s so easy to flick it open, you think you almost cut your own belly as you heave. Johnny rides you for a moment, then pops up onto his knees to let you roll freely.

You don’t have time to decide, gut or femoral, you just swing. Denim parts, pressure - 

Johnny yelps.

His weight is suddenly gone, and the arc of your arm slams the back of your hand and your elbow onto the carpet. It’s a shock, almost hard enough to make you drop the knife. You flick your eyes around, nearly blind with tunnel vision, and see Johnny standing over you. His jeans are slashed, outer thigh almost to crotch, but you can’t see blood, fuck.

He sways, oddly. Is your vision swimming? He doesn’t descend on you again, though, just laughs and wiggles. One of his feet isn’t on the ground, his injured leg is dangling, did you get him?

You imagine you can see Simon’s face, a little angry and a little amused. If you die here, Johnny will live to see his own intestines, you know it. Even if you survive, he won’t. Simon might gift you another skull. The thought almost has a laugh bubbling out of you. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” you hiss. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it.”

Simon’s voice startles you into action. You’re off your back and scrabbling backward in and instant as he manifests behind Johnny. Except, you realize, that Simon is holding Johnny up, one arm snaked under Johnny’s and hand around the back of his neck. That’s why Johnny looks off balance, it’s because he is, because Simon is here, he’s going to save you-

“Did real good, Precious,” Simon says with a grin. “Knew you’d get along.”

What? “What?”

Simon says something else, but you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. But you hear it when Johnny laughs. You see when Simon releases him with a ruffle to his mohawk and a shove toward the armchair. Before you know it, Simon’s scooped you into his arms and taken his usual seat on the couch. He pries the knife from your hand and snaps it closed. 

“Told you I was thinkin’ of gettin you a dog,” Simon rumbles, sitting you in his lap so your back is against his chest. Before you can protest that no, he never once mentioned a fucking dog, he continues, “This’n’s mostly ‘ousebroken, already. Soap needs a firm ‘and, but you c’n ‘andle him. 

Soap? What the fuck does soap have to do with anything? What kind of a name is…

"Oi!” Simon barks. “Off the furniture.”

Your stomach drops as you remember John Price, two months ago now. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.” Soap.

When your wide eyes swing to him,  Johnny’s face is split into a toothy grin. He tips his head back against the seat of the arm chair. One of his hands touches the blood blooming through his jeans and brings it up to his lips. He laves his tongue over his fingers. “Ah’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know you, Bonnie.”

A part of you wants to get up and slit his throat. The rest of you slumps back into Simon’s chest and bursts into tears.

[dontknowwhatyouheard]

Something Special 3

A/N: So I'm trying out new things, and learning new things. LMK what y'all think.

Pairing: Dark Beefy CEO! Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ageless bios will be blocked, non-con, G!P characters, legal age gap, dark!fic, talks of depression, lmk if I missed something Summary: Wanda finally gets what's hers. Word Count: 1864

Chap 1 Chap 2

It was 3 a.m. when Wanda woke next. The warmth surrounding her was the first thing she noticed. She sighed deeply as she moved her hips, and her head whipped to the side when she heard a sigh come from the other side of the bed. As she looked around, she finally realized where she was and cursed herself for not being more cautious. Carefully, she slid out of you as she eyed your face to be sure you were still asleep. She crept across the bed towards your face, tempted to fuck your face again, but she decided against it and kissed your lips as she tucked herself away, still erect, but that was fine if everything went as planned; she’d have you all to herself later that night, and she’d finally be able to care for you the way you deserved. So just like every night before she left through the fire escape with a smile on her face. 

–

It was already time for Wanda to see her Sugar again by the time she arrived home. Before heading to the cafe, she changed into gray sweatpants and a white tee. Something simple, but she knew her Sugar would still appreciate it nonetheless. 

–

Today, when Wanda walked into the cafe, she wasn’t greeted with a smile like the last time. She knew why, but still, it hurt her a little bit. "What happened to that pretty smile of yours, Sugar?" She said with a pout on her face. 

That statement got her a little bit of a smile, but not as full as she was hoping to see.

"I’m sorry, Wanda. I guess I’m just a little upset. What can I get you for today, though?" You sighed, picking at your eyebrows. The stress is practically eating you alive at this point. It was taking everything in not to break down right in front of Wanda.

"Same as yesterday, Sugar. Would it make your day better if I took you out on a date?" She smiled sweetly.

You stared at her, shocked; there was no way this woman was actually serious. You just met her two days ago, and now she wants a date? She hasn’t even had a real conversation with you yet.

"Come on, darling, don't leave me hanging. I'd like to make you feel better if you'd let me," she murmured, pulling your hand away from your brow while locking eyes with you. She realized that picking at your brows must be a nervous tick of yours. She'll correct that soon, but for now, she just needs you to say yes.

"Wanda. I-I can’t ask you to do that for me." You mumbled, trying to let her down lightly, hoping she’d catch on.

"Well, then I’m not asking. I want you to go on a date with me, Sugar. End of discussion." And with that, she sat in a booth to wait for her drink. She sat in silence as you turned around to make her drink. As the tent formed in her sweats, she didn’t bother to hide it; she was proud that her dick always stood at attention for you.

"Wanda!" You gaped openly at the bulge in her pants as she approached you. Was she actually packing to come to a fucking cafe? You snapped out of it when she eventually appeared at the counter. "Here's your drink," you muttered hesitantly, almost spilling it on her.

"Thank you; I'll see you at 8, Sugar," she said, pretending not to notice your stare. She slid a $100 bill across the counter and walked out before you could even react. 

—

It felt like the world was crashing down on you. No matter what you did or how hard you tried to push your predicament to the back of your head, it always came back times ten. It was like fighting through waves of zombies just to end up back where you started. You’ve been in this place plenty of times before, so this is not new. Depression has always been a constant in your life, but sometimes you wonder why you fight those zombies; you wonder why you don’t just let them eat you alive, and you curse yourself for all the times you fight just to end up in the same place months later.

By the time you were able to bring yourself out of your thoughts, you were already halfway out the cafe door. You hadn’t even realized you were just going through the motions and that you had already packed everything up. But you didn’t care; you had a date with Wanda later, and you needed to figure out how you would get through it. 

— 

"Be there in 20 minutes, Sugar 🥰" 

The text came through a long time ago, and you were still obsessing over how you would respond to it. Eventually, you gave up. The thought of even having to reply stressed you out. Instead, you tried focusing on which fragrance you would use and what you thought Wanda would like. In the end, you went with a lavender-citrus scent to match your formal attire. You were so distracted by everything that you glossed over the fact that she knew where you lived.

Three knocks sent you practically sprinting to the doorway. You opened the door so fast, that you almost hit yourself with it. 

"Well, hello, beautiful! You look amazing." She said reaching out to you with a big smile on her face, having to hold back her laugh seeing the gawk on your face. She didn’t blame you, though; she knew you’d love the red suit and had it made for this exact occasion. "Come on, Sugar, we’ll be late if we don’t get a move on."

"Wanda I-… Wow." You were short-circuiting; you couldn’t even form a complete sentence as you let her pull you to her car. A very fancy all-black Pagani Huayra that costs more than your entire existence. 

 "You like it, sweetness? I was having doubts about this one." It was easy for her to lie to you. She never once questioned the suit. 

"Hell yes, Wanda, you look so damn good." A genuine smile finally appeared on your face, and Wanda was determined to keep it that way.

—

The date went amazing. Wanda almost didn’t want to leave the restaurant, but she knew something even better was waiting for her once she got you home. Before she left her house, she triple-checked that she had everything prepared.

The drive back to her place was relatively normal until the end. Wanda had parked the car on the side of the highway. She placed her hand on your thigh; she knew you wouldn’t object to it, and she knew you had trouble saying no your entire life. "Sweetness, I want to know how this date was for you." And while she genuinely did, she also needed you to be distracted. So as you were telling her how much fun you had, she was able to prick the side of your neck.

"What the hell was that?" you said flinching moving your hand to your neck.

"You’re all mine now, Sugar." And that was the last thing you heard before you passed out. 

The rest of the drive for Wanda was silent. She was super anxious and kept her hand on your thigh the entire time, occasionally glancing over to make sure you were still breathing. 

When she finally arrived home, she brought you to your new room in the basement, mentally thanking herself for adding more weights to her workouts. She just couldn't wait for you to wake up.

— 

It was only an hour later, and finally, your eyes fluttered open. The bed beneath you was so soft, that you were tempted to close your eyes again. 

"Oh, you’re finally up, Sugar! I’ve been waiting so long for this; please kiss me."

You didn’t have time to comprehend what was going on when suddenly you felt her lips on yours. You tried turning your head away, but she gripped your cheeks so tightly that it hurt. Your only other option was to kiss her back and hope she’d stop soon. 

"Oh, sweetness, that was better than anything I could've imagined! Daddy is so hard right now. I need to make love to you. Please, baby, don't deny me any longer." She said panting heavily. All her movements were rushed as she practically ripped the dress off your body. You scrambled to cover yourself, but she smacked your hands away.

"Wanda! Wanda! What are you doing?" You screamed, trying to throw her off you. 

Finally, she stopped for a second, but the look in her eye told you she wasn’t done. 

"I don’t want to have to punish you on our first night together, Sugar. But I will if you continue to misbehave. I understand this is our first time, but from now on you will be calling me Daddy. Do you understand?"

What was wrong with this woman? You should’ve known better; you knew it was too good to be true, and now there was no way you were getting out of this. So you nodded, hoping that if you played along, it would get you out of here quicker. 

"I knew you would sugar; you’re so good for me," she said, leaning down to suck your nipple. Moaning wildly as she practically humped your leg. It took everything in you not to moan. "I hope you’re ready, sugar." She said while ripping her pants off. She didn’t even bother to take off her underwear, instead opting to pull her cock through the slit. 

Your eyes went wide once again. It was real! What the fuck?

"Enough staring; open your legs for me. I can’t wait anymore." She states practically tearing your legs apart. She didn’t even prep you as she sunk into you slowly with a deep groan. She gave you exactly two slow thrusts before quickening her pace.

"Oh fuck!" You accidentally let slip, and it gave her the confidence to speed up. Your hands grasp her muscular waist as if that would slow her down. You were going to cum really soon if she didn’t stop. "Daddy please!" That only seemed to spur her on more as she brought her hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly.

"You can do it, Sugar, cum for me! Cum all over Daddy's cock." And with that, you did. You came with a scream, shaking under her. You watch as she pulls out and starts quickly jerking herself on your face. "Open that pretty mouth nice and wide for Daddy." She panted. You parted your lips, and she shoved the head of her cock in your mouth and came so hard you could see the veins on her abs.

"Swallow for me, Sugar. You’re such a good girl." She panted watching as your throat bobbed up and down with effort while stroking your cheek.

You couldn’t help it anymore, and you started to sob as everything came crashing down on you all at once. 

"It’s okay, Sugar. Daddy’s got you now, and she’s gonna take care of everything."

Taglist:

@aemilia19 @eliii1sblog @theylovethesky

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A sheen of sweat coats your forehead, beading in the strands of your hair, your teeth gnashing as you strain to lift the bar just a little higher. Use your legs, you remind yourself. You suppress a grunt as your body trembles with the effort. 

“You got it, flex, you can do it,” a voice taunts from behind you. You roll your eyes and push up. Bucky steps closer and tickles along your hips. “Need a spot?” 

You growl and hook the bar in place, letting the weight off your shoulders. You step out of his reach and swipe up your towel. Your wipe your face as he comes around the weight rack and grabs your bottle out of your grasp. You growl as he squirts it into his mouth. 

“Thirsty?” He winks and wiggles the bottle. 

“What are you doing here?” You narrow your eyes and take the bottle from him. 

“Looking for a work out.” He winks. 

“Really? ‘Cause you’re not dressed for it.” You look him up and down. He’s in his usual; dark jeans, grey tee, canvas jacket. 

“Don’t need to dress up for the kinda work out I’m thinking of,” he snickers. 

“How’d you find me?” You challenge as you check your smartwatch. 

“Tuesday’s. You’re always too busy for me.” 

“Uh huh. And it’s a Tuesday. I’m busy.” You retort. 

“Ah, come on. I can help you with your cool down. Get you nice and stretched out.” He rests his hand on the barbells, his other on his hip as he leers at you. 

“You’re gonna need a good dose of protein after that,” he teases. 

“You’re gross.” 

“You love it. Come on. I'll take you by the shake place first. I’m a gentleman, you know?” He laughs and you shake your head. 

“Right. Let me change.” 

“Ah, I like you sweaty. Pheromones or whatever. You know, my sense of smell is enhanced.” He smirks. “I can even smell when you’re horny.” 

“Ew, shut up.” You jab his ribs and push past him. You sling your towel over your shoulder and strut off. He follows you. 

“Doesn’t this remind of old times?” He asks. 

You’re taken back to the day you met. Your first week in the gym. You were lost and you looked it. He helped you figure out the leg machine. He also fixed your form. Strange how time passes. 

“I feel like you were less annoying then.” 

“Really? Cause you were a lot more tense back then. Glad I could loosen you up, although your ass is looking tighter.” 

You stop at the locker room door and face him. “You--” You squirt the water bottle at him. “You’re gonna have to wait out here. Weirdo.” 

You spin and push through the door. You hear him growl as he’s shut out. You continue on to your locker and grab your bag. You unzip it and peel off your tank and leggings. You stretch and look around the empty space. You like to go on Tuesdays when it’s quiet. When you can focus. 

That isn’t easy lately. With work and the Bucky’s inconsistent consistency. Every time you think you have a moment to chill, he’s there to tie you up. You’re going to have to talk about boundaries. You’re going to be too busy to deal with his spontaneous drop-ins. 

You turn to grab your water bottle from inside the locker and as you turn back, you’re shoved against the cold metal. Your yipe is smothered in Bucky’s hands, his metal one around your throat. You wriggle and clutch his wrist. Your eyes round and flick side-to-side. 

He chuckles, “I got tired of waiting.” 

You murmur into his hand and slap his arm. Your heart picks up and a shiver rolls over you. You kick your feet around his. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this with him. Panic. 

“Hey, just playing,” he drags his hand away and slackens his grip on your neck. “Don’t need be scared.” 

You take a deep breath and step away from the lockers. He stands back and watches you. His eyes rove up and down. He tilts his head. 

“Really, I wasn’t meaning to scare you. I was just...fucking around.” 

“It’s fine,” you shrug and reach for your blouse. “I was just surprised.” 

“Your heart’s still going--” 

“I told you, I hate that,” you hiss. 

“I can’t help it. I can’t not hear it.” He insists. 

“Just... go wait for me outside. I’ll be a minute,” you don’t look at him as you pull the shirt over your head. 

The reminders of how much stronger he is are jarring. At times, it's hot, at others, it's frightening. He's not just a man, he's more than that.

He lingers and sighs. His boot scuffs as he slowly slides it across the tile. He walks off and you listen for the door behind him. You blow out between your lips. 

You definitely need to have a talk. It’s all good and fun until he gets a face full of the mace you keep in your purse. Besides, he’s getting a bit clingy. This isn’t supposed to be that. It’s casual. It’s easy.

Well, it was. 

[nomtterwhere]

what comes next || jaime reyes x reader

summary: jaime and his girlfriend are graduating college and are ready for whatever else life throws at them, takes place before the events of blue beetle, so no spoilers!

author's note: this is just because i watched blue beetle and am obsessed with jaime, he's too cute so here is this little blurb. this can also technically serve as a prequel to the fic i'm currently writing

word count: 1.2k

The run throughout campus you had just made was purely off the adrenaline of the end of the semester. And not only the end of the semester, but the end of your college years. Four years, 135 credits later, and you were only one walk across a stage away from college graduation. The minute you handed in your final there was only one person you wanted to see and the 20-minute walk to his house became a 10-minute sprint.

You were panting by the time you were standing in front of his house and you took a minute to breathe. Thankfully the door was unlocked, so you stepped inside, toeing off your shoes quickly as you greeted one of Jaime’s housemates who was sitting at the dining table. He gave you a smile before you made a beeline to your boyfriend’s room. The door was open a crack so you pushed it all the way open and finally, your eyes landed on Jaime Reyes as he sat leaned over his desk, earbuds in and nodding along to whatever was playing in them.

You smiled as you shut the door before coming up behind him and plucking out one of his earbuds. His head popped up and he turned to face you, his face changing from one of shock to endearment.

“Hey—” Was as far as he got before you were cupping his face and leaning down to press your lips against his, tossing his earbud on the desk.

He didn’t miss a beat, reaching his hands up to grab your waist and bring you down onto his lap easily. You straddled his thighs, relishing in the feeling of his kiss, already high off the air of freedom. Jaime’s left hand pressed into your lower back and you sighed, letting your body melt against his.

There was a level of comfort that always came with his kisses and you needed that now. He managed to ground you just by existing and even when you were so happy you feel like you could float away, it was nice to know that he would be right there with you to share in that feeling. And it felt good. It felt good to be held by him, to be loved by him, and little moments like this reminded you of that.

“Mm, querida,” He started when you pulled away for a moment. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

You beamed at him. “I just took my last final ever! I’m done!”

The smile on his face matched yours and he hugged you, keeping you secure in his lap. “Oh, I’m so happy for you. All that’s left is to graduate now, huh?”

“We’re so close.” You muttered, kissing him again, softer this time.

One of his hands slipped underneath your tank top, rubbing gentle circles into your skin and you sighed. Three years together and the smallest touches still caused goosebumps to appear, proven by the shiver that went down your spine at his continued action. Moving your hands to grip his arms, you were suddenly aware that he was wearing a cutoff tee, his arms and shoulders proudly on display.

Your fingers danced along the lines of muscle on his bicep, engaged in the soft skin beneath them. Your own skin prickled with heat from the feeling of his hands on you and you noticed him starting to deepen the kiss. You pulled back, relishing in the way that his head followed your movements, chasing your lips.

“Mm-mm, don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still have work to do.” You said, giving him a sly grin.

He groaned and looked past you at his desk, his notebook and pen abandoned from when you ambushed him. “Two more finals and then I’m free too. Then you won’t be able to get rid of me.” He said, smug smile on his lips.

“You worried?”

“Isn’t everyone?” He quipped, then let out a sigh when you gave him a serious look. “A little. But I know this stuff, I’ll be okay.”

You sit up a little in his lap, bringing your hands to his face once again and just took him in.

He met your gaze with a searching look. “What is it?”

You simply shook your head with a smile of your own. “I’m so proud of you.” He laughed, turning his head but you moved your own so you were still in view. “Jaime Reyes, with a degree in pre-law. That’s amazing.”

“I haven’t gotten into law school yet.” He said and you shook your head.

“But you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re Jaime.” You made him look at you and didn’t continue speaking until you were sure you had his full attention. You had been by his side for three years now and in that time you had seen how dedicated he was to his studies, how sure he was that this was going to be his way to pay back his family for their sacrifices. You didn’t know anyone as intelligent, kind, and loving as him and you needed him to know that.

“Jaime, what you’re doing is incredible. You amaze me every day and I’m so lucky to know you. Your future is so bright, Jaime. There’s no doubt in my mind that you are going to do amazing things in this world. You’ve already done amazing things to mine.”

He tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, holding back a smile. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you more.” And you meant every word.

He leaned forward and kissed you, then buried his head in your shoulder, holding you close. “I love you most.” He muttered into your skin, replying as he always does.

You sat like that for a moment, your breaths coming slowly and in sync. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours lulled you into a sense of security and you closed your eyes as you rested your head atop his. Below you, Jaime tightened his grip on you momentarily before relaxing again. It was quiet moments like this that made you appreciate your relationship even more. To know that you had someone you could go to and simply just be with, without expectations, was something you never wanted to take for granted.

To be that person for Jaime as well was a treasure you could have never saw coming. He was always the one with a plan, someone who consistently looked to the future and the life that was coming for him. You were glad that he knew he didn’t always have to be that person with you. That it was okay to be unsure, to feel scared. That when he felt like that, you would be the one to bring him back up.

“I can’t wait to do life with you.” You said, suddenly. All of these thoughts in your head needed to be released somehow, and this one sentence couldn’t begin to cover it, but you knew he would understand.

You felt him nod against your shoulder and he picked his head up as you did the same, allowing the two of you to look into each other’s eyes.

“This is only the start, I can’t wait for what comes next.”