#'jesus if you're gonna touch and everything...'

[s0dium]

Creep

Warnings: Creepy/stalker behavior, breeding kink, pussydrunk behavior, cumflation, stomach bulge, subspace, premature ejaculation, orgasms

~

You know it's wrong, so wrong to enjoy the attention of a creep.

At least, that's what people call him. But through the snickers and sidelong glances that surround him, there's something about him that intrigues you, attracts you, something you can't seem to get out of your head.

It starts off small, letting him eye you from across the room and flashing him a small smile. Then you notice he starts to get bolder, more confident in his advances. As the days pass, his presence becomes a constant in your routine. He waits for you after class, catches you alone in elevators, leans in closer during conversations, and even starts to find excuses to touch your arm or shoulder. Each interaction feels like a challenge, a test of boundaries that seems he's all too willing to push.

In the beginning, you almost listen to the unease flickering in the back of your mind, warning that maybe you are playing with fire. But as the tension builds, you find your resolve slowly melting, small touches on your arm turn grazes against your ass and the quick glances evolve into him blatantly checking you out.

So only you can be blamed for the situation you're in right now. Only you can be blamed for letting it get like this.

His hips snapped so fast you can't think, you can breathe. Pleasure courses through your body in electric flesh arrows and you could feel your pussy clench around his length in a futile attempt to adjust for his massive size. How could a creep like him be so big? Jesus, you could feel his mushroom tip press against your cervix every time he slammed into you. Countless loads of cum dripped from where you two were connected onto the white sheets below. At any given time he'd blow his load right into you and without much of a stutter fuck the liquid back into you, until he reached his high again and started the cycle over again.

"Mine," he grunts out, his breath hot against your cheek from the brutal mating press he has you in. The bed shook with every thrust, the head board banging against the wall from the way your cervix was getting absolutely abused. The friction, the way he filled you up so perfectly, his hot skin against yours, it was too much, too overwhelming, and your brain couldn't handle the pleasure. You could feel the euphoria absorb your body, making your toes curl and uncurl from the sheer pleasure.

"G-gonna cum in you again" He says through a moan, peppering kissed along your jaw. "Gonna fill you up, make you feel so so good." He doesn’t slow his movement, instead picking up one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder so he can reach even deeper. He places his other hand on your belly, rubbing your skin with his thumb.

"You feel me?" He coos, pressing down on your stomach, intensifying the pressure of his cock inside you and making your moans grow even louder.

"I can feel you, I can feel you squeezing me, feel so good, better than my fist." He chuckles and grabs your throat, squeezing it so your brain goes fuzzy with the slight light of oxygen.

His breathing becomes jagged and with a soft whimper followed by a silent "oh-fu", he blows his load into your battered pussy. There is no warning when cums into you, only the slight stutter of his hips that does nothing to deter his brutal pace. You are soaked down there, his sticky cum leaking out of you as he pushes into you over and over again. But you couldn't be bothered to look right now, you couldn’t open your eyes and ignore the colors you were seeing behind your eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. Your skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing you could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over your body.

"You gonna cum?" He coos into your ear, punctuating his words with an extra sharp thrust. "Cum for me, please." 

As if on cue, you gasp, and let your orgasm wash over you. He doesn't stop his movements, instead, he fucks you through your orgasm until your crying for him to stop.

"Not gonna stop, gonna fuck you until m' shooting blanks okay?"

SHIGARAKI, YUUTA OKKATSU, L LAWLIET, SHINSO, KENMA, GYUTARO

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[luveline]

jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home." 

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention." 

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint. 

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth. 

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere. 

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention. 

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today." 

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night." 

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better." 

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet. 

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it." 

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders. 

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?" 

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it." 

"That so?" you ask. 

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy. 

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you. 

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers. 

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–" 

"It's not like–" 

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his. 

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his. 

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry." 

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–" 

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach. 

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm. 

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth. 

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint. 

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses. 

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?" 

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?" 

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that." 

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀cooch chronicles part two (matt edition) <3

warnings. SMUT !!!! oral(f!recieving), lovey soft fluffy matt my god i love him :( fingering. afab!reader

"you're so soft," matt mumbles as he leaves gentle, wet kisses to your stomach. he leans his head against your skin, just taking you in for a moment whilst his fingers idly glide over your hips. his lips brush against the fabric of your top, soft hums slipping from between his lips. you're watching him, quietly, just gazing him over as he relaxes between your legs. "i love touching you, y'know that, hm?" his voice is gentle, warm.

a smile settles on your lips, and you mumble in return, "think i can see that," matt scoffs at the cheek of you, giving your stomach a quick little bite and leaving a small little hickey on your skin. his eyes search yours for a moment, a sly smile playing on his lips at the sight of you and your words.

moving his arm lower so it isn't wrapped around your waist, he rests it over your thigh for a moment. lowering his head down a little bit more, he lets his plush lips press against the fabric of your panties for a moment. eyes darting to yours, his eyes gleam under the dim lights of the room. "yeah?" you muse quietly, hand lifting up to his hair and running your fingers through his locks.

matt cocks his head to the side a little bit, leaning into your hand for a minute. he's quiet, letting his nose nudge the hem of your panties. "uh-huh," he said, voice low and almost thoughtful in nature. despite how hot his breathing is against your skin, he can feel the warmth between your legs and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"you're thinkin'," you tell him, voice soft. he nods for a minute in return, and you considering asking him what he's thinking abour, however he answers it for you when he glances back at you, he asks easily, almost lazily, "can i take these off?" as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, pulling at it for a moment so it slings back against your hip.

"oh—" you gasp a little from a combination of his question and your underwear pulling against your skin. you swallow thickly for a second, eyes widening. "uh," it takes a moment for your brain to catch up, and at that matt smiles gently, "yeah, yeah, yeah, sure," you say quickly, shifting your weight against the bed. you really couldn't think straight with him looking up at you like that. especially with thoae soft eyes, all puppy dog like.

"yeah? s'that a yes?" he muses quietly, his fingers slowly hooking under the elastic of your panties. "thank you," matt's voice is still so warm, almost reverent when you give him permission to take them off. he's so fucking cute.

humming, he eases the fabric down your thighs. "jus' wanna make you feel good," he whispers against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, "is that okay?"

more than okay, jesus—and you voice that. "yeah, god, like, you're even asking?" the corners of his lips tug upwards at the corners at your words, and he rolls his shoulders in a gentle shrug, soon leaning in to press a delicate kiss to your inner thigh. god, he loves you. especially how you look in the light like this. "promise to tell me if i'm too much?" he adds, even though he knows you will. he just needs to know you'te completely okay with this.

"promise," you're getting the faintest bit impatient, which matt senses, his mouth finally making contact with your wet folds, placing slow, gentle kisses to your warmth. "shit—" you were fucking goner the moment he leant in.

his voice is a little muffled, but he mumbles, "you just let me know if anythin' feels good, okay?" and you simply nod, pretty sure you're gonna have to be pretty vocal to get it across since literally everything's gonna feel good with him. "got it," you manage after a moment, trying to get a grip on yourself but it's so hard when his nose keeps bumping against your clit in the best way possible.

matt slowly relaxes into you, his tongue slowly laps at your arousal. "i'll take care of you," you taste so damn good, so good. it has him rutting his hips against the bed a little, twitching in his boxers. seemed like he needed taking care of himself. but you came first, always.

"how'd you get so good at this, huh?" you practically pant, watching as he buries his head between your legs. the moment he moans from you caressing his hair. a self-satisfied smirk settles on his lips, and he shrugs, leaning up a little bit.

"just got some practice," matt says, acting like he hasn't got your sopping cunt leaking just for him. shifting his weight, he slowly drags his finger over your entrance, before easing it inside of you, not a single ounce of resistance on your part. "and i know your body," he adds, with a curl of his finger. you practically melt right there, thighs twitching a little bit around his hand.

"know my body, hu—?" your words get cut off by the curl of his finger, and you practically gasp. a surprised sound rips from your throat, and you whine shakily, "fuck," eyes fluttering shut, you mutter, "yeah, okay, touché." grinning at your response, matt feels the need to make you completely satisfied, so he leans back in, letting his tongue glide over you.

your pussy's so tight around matt's finger and so warm against his mouth, his free hand slowly grasping at your leg to lift it up over his shoulder. it gives him more access, so he tugs you up closer to him. "told you, baby. i pay attention," he leans back in, letting his tongue probe at your clit and swirl around the bundle of nerves. "i know you better than anyone, don't i?"

you're barely paying attention, a little too focused on how his fingers pump gently against your walls and how he suckles at your clit, each moan sending vibrations and a shiver down your spine. "know me better than anyone," you say quietly in agreement, your hips jerking forward with each thrust of his fingers and dip of his tongue.

he's grinning, at the way you jerk against him, the way your walls clench around his fingers like a vice, fuck, you're gorgeous. "i know, baby. and i know you're close, huh? gonna come all over my fingers for me?" he knows it especially from how you cling to the bed sheets all desperate.

you're falling apart for him, and he fucking loves it.

"gonna.." once again, you can't think straight. physically can't, the pleasure fogging your brain and blocking out any thoughts that aren't him. you can only think of him, even still, barely. "matt," you whine, hiccuping your words out softly.

"that's it," matt grunts, feeling you clench around his fingers once more, and he sucks at your clit a few more times, moaning against you before he feels that familiar, beautiful feeling of you gushing over him. "just feel it f'me, there she is.." you look so damn pretty like this, a mess on his fingers. he looks up at you, meeting your gaze for a moment. "you still with me, baby?"

you nod, slowly, thighs opening a little for him to pull his fingers out, expecting him to as he always does. but, this time, he simply leans in and keeps going, mumbling quietly, "you can give me another one, can't you?"

and fuck, the way he's looking up at you? you'd be a fool not to.

taglist ／ ⋆ ۪ @pettydollie , @dayzeandhaze , @mattslolita , @https--roman , @httqvi , @blue-d, @jetaimevous, @mattybsgroupie (hey... anyone wanna be on the taglist <3)

[cute-sucker]

the one time you did rafe's nails he isn't too happy !

the reason why you're even touching him with "that stuff," as he says, is because of the dare he lost. and now he pays the repercussions, staring at you with a look that could kill as you smile wide. after all, you aren't just doing his nails, you're doing everything.

everything includes; the nails and the face. it included buffing his nails, putting on some light eyeshadow and then afterwards telling him to stay still as you do some blush. to be quite frank you can't believe he's letting you do this. you're giggling the entire time, as he gives you a deadpanned look. he looks like daisy the duck with the bright red lipstick you've slathered on, and you swear he's going to deal with you later. it seems the color that you've chosen for his nails is what bothers him the most.  

"what is wrong with you?" rafe grumbles, snatching his nails away from the hot pink color you've chosen.

"what? you don't want your nails coloured?" you say innocently, fixing your hair with one swipe. his eyes follow your movement, and then he groans.

he points to the lighter shade of pink, "jesus, if you're gonna paint my nails, at least make me look good."

you bite your lip before starting to apply, "don't worry you'll look great."

then you have a nice silence before he yells at you for getting nail polish all over his cuticles.

"hey! hey! that's messed up. do it properly," he mutters, wiping his nails furiously. then he sits back down, putting his hand in your lap. you can't help but laugh at the expression on his face, his tongue stuck out as a determined look flickers on his face.

now you have a very mad rafe cameron telling you how to do his nails.

[dadsdog]

Sorry I've never done one of these before, but for your prompts/imagines could you please maybe do one about a "girl" joining a fight club because she's so angry and full of teenage rebellion and he slowly gets bloodied and forcemasced by all the other older guys in the club, thank you

age gap forcemasc you will always be famous. i wrote literally SO MUCH for this i might have to make it multiple parts. so i guess if you boys like it i can post some more :]

they didn't treat me any differently than they did each other. when we wrestled and traded blows, they didn't go easy on me. i had grown so used to being treated like a delicate commodity, always in danger of injury or embarrassment. here, the guys make me feel like a person. strong, ruthless, capable. one of them. getting the wind punched out from my gut excited me. all the bruises and bloody noses, they felt like trophies. these guys, my friends, hurt me just how i needed it, and they let me do the same in turn.

they insisted upon shaving my head, as all the long hair was always getting in the way.

"don't worry, you're going to look so good man. the long hair is gonna hold you back."

"man... the buzz cut really shows off your face. a lot of guys would kill for your features, kid."

"if it weren't for your clothes, you'd look like a guy. maybe we should swap those out next, huh bud?"

i would walk into the locker room and feel their eyes linger on me. they would say "have you ever considered going on t? i think it would give you a leg up at your age."

"i could share my t gel with you, if you want to try."

"there's no harm in seeing if it works out. i think it's gonna be the perfect fit for you."

a few of them sat me down and took my shirt off to expose my arm.

"speaking of, have you ever worn a binder? no reason, just curious how you would look is all."

"i think i have a clean one in my gym bag. i'm gonna go grab it."

all the changes came on so quickly. suddenly when i looked in the mirror, there was a happy trail leading down to my boxers. when had i started wearing boxers? i started having to shave my face in the morning, and stopped shaving everything else. i was wearing a binder when i wasn't fighting or exercising. my clothes no longer fit like a girls. i had barely even noticed.

when we weren't trading blows, they were giving me lessons on how to posture myself, how to speak.

"it'll help people to know not to overlook you. take up more space."

"yeah, and stop sitting with your legs together. there you go."

"good boy."

they started to call me that. whenever i did something they approved of, one of them would ruffle my hair and say "that's my boy." i had tried to tell them im a girl the first few times.

"what? c'mon, even you aren't buying that."

"look at you, you're just as much of a guy as the rest of us."

"don't say stuff like that, kid. unless you want us to really kick your ass."

their touches lingered. a playful chokehold would turn into hanging an arm around my shoulder. grabbing me from behind would lead to their hands on my waist. they would ask how i was feeling on t. comment on how good i looked with more body hair. how easily i was building muscle now.

"have you had any bottom growth? yeah?"

"i'm so proud of you, champ. do you wanna let us see?"

"i bet you do, kiddo."

they were right. i wanted them to see how much i'd grown. suddenly, the towel around my waist was being pulled away. leaving me completely exposed to them. they stepped closer, surrounding me. i felt strong, calloused hands hold my shoulders and waist, keeping me still. spreading my thighs wide, so they could get a proper view.

"aw, your cock is so cute baby boy."

"guys do this all the time, don't worry."

"maybe one day you'll be as big as the rest of us."

at that, i looked down to see their towels cast aside. they were older, been on t longer, but jesus. their tdicks were huge compared to me. i gasped as i felt myself being pulled towards another body by the hips. "look how different ours are, kiddo. maybe yours will be bigger once it's hard."

i was pulled along to sit on the bench, my thighs being spread apart. "now what did we say about sitting with your legs together?" i let out a whine as kisses were being trailed up my hairy thighs, stubble tickling my skin. i look to either side of myself and realize im eye level with their cocks. i look up at them as they pet my hair and rub my shoulders.

"you wanna taste?" i nod and feel a hand tighten its grip on my hair. "a boy your age, it's about time someone showed you how to suck cock, huh?" my face was pushed against his crotch, letting me smell him.

suddenly i felt lips finally meet my tdick, he was giving my cock gentle kisses, occasionally pausing to put it between his fingers and stroke me. the moan that escaped me let the other man's cock slide into my mouth. "yeah.. there we go boy, you can do it." he used the hand in my hair to push my head up and down the shaft of his cock, using my mouth as i whimpered and moaned.

pulling me off his cock, letting me pause for breath, i felt another pair of hands bring my face towards his cock instead. they surrounded me, standing over me, their cocks hard around my face. they were touching and groping me. making comments about what a handsome young man i was becoming, how well behaved im being, how proud they are of me. as my mouth was being passed around, they traded places a took turns on my cock as well. i could hear the grunts of pleasure as one man fucked my face, as well as the satisfied growl of another man with his mouth around my cock.

"you're turning out to be such a good boy," one said, holding my face in his hand, "aren't you glad we taught you how?"

[s-4pphics]

gift basket (e.w.)

kinda cont. to this :3 meep

wc;cw: 1.6k, return of pothead!ellie and her pothead gf, weed duh, parties, mention of psychs but no actual psychs lol, fluff… UNHEARD OF, flirting and a lil sexual tension, something quick bc i miss her fr

“you tryna do acid?” you call from ellie’s small dining table, rolling up for the two of you. ellie’s attention is yanked from her device, gawking from where she sits on the couch, decked in her usual party attire: all black everything from head to toe. “the fuck did you just say?” 

“you tryna do acid?” you repeat, sealing the blunt. ellie’s eyes flick around the living room, jolting down to the blunt in your hand before they lock with yours. 

“. . . why the fuck would i do that before a party?” ellie snorts, removing and tossing her reading glasses on the coffee table before returning back to some annoying show about a blue cat with bunny for a sister. neither of you are high yet and she’s already in hysterics, wildly cackling and shoveling parmesan goldfish in her mouth.

ellie.  .  . oh, ellie. 

why won’t she fucking touch you? 

after your intense smoke session on pothead christmas, your relationship has gotten strange. not strange in a bad way; she never hesitates to invite you over to spark up, pick you up for late night drives, have study sessions (where she watches you study with eyes tinted pink). everything is exactly the same, but you don’t want it to be. 

it’s been a month since she smoked you out and rambled about her sex life, since you asked — begged her to kiss you. at this point, you would accept a fucking peck, for sucks sake! but she brushes you off every time, pushes you right back into that best friend box after every hot box. you’ve given her every sign to put it down on you, and she’s receptive. the stares she gives you, the lingering touches, the seemingly doting affection that shines beneath her pupils. it’s all there and. . . not at the same time. 

but here you are again. igniting her fucking bud before you roll out to another frat house. being high and horny simultaneously is your greatest weakness. . . especially when your little crush looks this fucking good. 

“you’re so far away.” ellie lures gently from the cushions, “c’meeere, i’m cold.” 

“. . . it’s almost june.” you note flatly. she rolls her eyes and blows a raspberry, climbing over the back of the couch and sliding in next to you, eyes glued to your working hands. she pinches the blunt between her thumb and index finger. “it’s fat as fuck, jesus christ.” she mumbles in amazement. fucking geek. 

“it’s yours. say thank you.” ellie gasps in delight and throws her arms around your neck, bending down to smack kisses on your cheek, mumbling thank you, thank you, thank you! you can’t hide your smile when you throw hers in your little baggie before shoving it in her front pocket. you pat it for good luck. “don’t crush them like you did last time. i’m gonna be hot,” you scold lightly and ellie smirks against your cheek. 

“i dunno. you’re pretty hot already.” she purrs against your face. you push her away and she giggles, jogging to get her shoes on. you follow in her lead and lace up, praying to god that she doesn’t sit on the fucking bag in the uber. 

ellie can’t stop staring at this fucking lava lamp. 

it’s gorgeous, really. . . the bright colors, the holographic glitter, the fucking. . . clay balls. are they clay? they look like stress toys floating around in uncooked egg whites that've been injected with fairy vomit—

“ellie!” 

she feels like she’s underwater, but not in a drowning, i’m-gonna-die way. she feels like a mermaid as she searches the room at your call, tunnel vision centering on every drunk face until she finds yours. you're actually right in front of where she sits on the love seat. . . right in front of someone else. . . who’s directly behind you. . . who the fuck is that? 

your brows are pulled down in concern as you shout over the blaring music, asking her if she feels okay, if she wants to leave, but she’s not focused on none of that. . . her high is about to go left in a second if this bitch doesn’t stop squeezing your ass. ellie sends you an affirming look even though her blood is sizzling beneath her skin and you nod in acknowledgement, returning your attention back to whoever you’re throwing it on. 

. . . would it be fucked up if she busted this lava lamp over this broad’s head? she doesn’t think so. 

she barely registers it. the small display in front of her is nauseating. ellie’s known you forever, and never once have you accepted a rip from somebody you didn’t know. . . so why the fuck are you ripping from a bitch you don’t know? the end of the blunt sparks a bright orange with your heavy puff, the carbon you didn’t inhale ghosting in front of your mouth. smoke leaves through your nose as you giggle, the fucking. . . bum whispering something in your ear with a tight squeeze on your waist. 

you’re shaking your head like you like it, like you’re approving of this fuckery and ellie almost vomits. she stands too quickly for her legs because she plops back down like an utter buffoon, the world spinning like a pinball. her arms extend as she searches for balance while sitting and—

whatever the fuck she was going to say vanishes when your hands come down on her shoulders, comfortingly squeezing them through her sweaty shirt. softly. ellie turns to mush as she tries to read your lips. . . maybe she shouldn’t do that; it looks like you’re saying don’t be gay. . . but ellie is gay and so are you so how the fuck would that work?

she’s being scooped up by you and. . . yeah, she’s very faded. ellie’s always prided herself in having a high tolerance to the dirty green, but she’s on one tonight. what the fuck did you put in that shit? is this why you asked her to do acid earlier? because you laced her shit? she can feel her palms getting clammy as you walk her down a dark ass hallway. . . if she had that lava lamp, maybe she could see—

a door slams shut and a lock clicks. it’s suddenly bright. ellie’s convinced she made it to heaven. . . especially when her vision focuses and she’s met with the angel that you are, eyes sparkly and twinkling like fairies in a meadow. god let her in the pearly gates. . . 

“you okay, baby? needa throw up?” your hand is on her cheek, thumb gently massaging the skin. her heart’s singing. ellie’s entranced by you and her skin heats. . . her pussy also skips a beat. a little one-two. 

“. . . baby’s okay.” she mumbles. why is her tongue so heavy? you coo at her, “wanna go home?”

ellie nods, “fuck that bitch you were grindin’ on. hope she breaks her neck. . . or somethin’ crazy, i dunno.” you choke on laughter and pull her in for a gentle hug. ellie’s heavy arms enclose around your waist. tightly. selfishly. 

“you mad i wasn’t grinding on you?” 

“duh! the fuck. . .” she slurs. “i should be grabbing ass, ‘s my. . . s’mine, fuck you.” you’re giggling into her neck and she shoves a hand in your back pocket. 

“you needa bed.” you shake your head. 

“yeah, so i can dig you out in it— “

“ELLIE— “

her laughter is uncontrollable, “yeeeah, you’re fucking mine. no more hoes for you.” 

you’re burning hot when your eyes open. . . because there’s a fucking body on top of you!

you and ellie are slung across the couch cushions, party clothes still on. ellie must’ve been awake for a minute because she sighs, breath hitting your tummy, “did you try to kill me yesterday? be honest.” 

“. . . bitch. . .”

“i’ve never been that high . . . well, that’s not true— “

“exactly.” you snicker, “how long you been up?” 

she holds up her wrist to check her imaginary stopwatch, “approximately. . . three minutes and thirty-fi— six seconds— “

“i fuckin’ hate you. get the fuck off me.” 

“hmm. . . nah, i’m good right here.” 

ellie’s head shifts on your stomach and you know she’s staring up at you, “i needa fucking shower— “

“me, too. with me?” you hear the smile in her tone. you finally gawk down at her. “you’re never hitting my shit again. what’s up with you?” 

her eyes crystallize when she shrugs, “had another dream about giving you head and now i gotta do it. follow your dreams, or whatever they say.” 

your jaw is on the floor and your stomach is in knots. “ellie—“ you gasp. 

“no, i’m not still high, and no i don’t wanna just fuck. kinda obsessed with you if last night wasn’t obvious.” she speaks so casually and it’s giving you whiplash. “i almost committed murder. that’s how pissed i was.” 

“a-at me?” 

ellie’s eyes roll, “oh my god, no. at whoever that freak was from last night. . . i don’t wanna talk about that shit anymore. i have trauma.” 

her tongue rolls over her lips and she eyes you like a vulture to a carcass, “i dunno if you ever used that shower head when you sleep over but. . .  it goes crazy.” her proposal makes you squirm and she smirks, planting a kiss on the skin of your belly. followed by another. . . and another a little lower. 

“you my girl?” she whispers against your skin, staring up at you, tongue poking out just barely to swipe on the plush area. 

“. . . maybe.” you mumble shyly, and ellie’s teeth beam. she sits up to stand and pulls you with her, guiding you out of the living room and down the hallway, into the bathroom. she snags her lighter off the counter and ignites her favorite cinnamon candle, the wick nearly gone. “for ambiance.” she whispers with a grin. 

you unbuckle the belt looped in your jeans, “pulling out the big words, huh?”

“call me thesaurus the way i make that pussy talk.” she expects you to laugh, but you don’t. you almost grab your shit and leave. . . but her laughter sounds like wedding bells. 

“just take your clothes off.” you say dryly. 

-

-

-

SIKKKEEE COCKBLOCK SEASON MERRY NEW YEAR OR WHATEVER HAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA

[supercap2319]

You give Clark a massage. He’s only wearing his glasses.

Clark kept his eyes forward as he adjusted the black rimmed glasses on his face. His–well–everything was showing, the plaid robe on his body was long forgotten on the floor as the Kryptonian sat on the couch. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying not to make himself feel any more exposed than he already was.

He had been stressed between work at the Daily Planet and protecting the people of the world as Superman. It was its own reward type of job, but, God, Clark was swamped. He told his boyfriend, Y/N about it, and said to meet him at his apartment later on in the week, so Y/N could help Clark release all that tension away.

It was a vague way to leave that conversation on that note, but Clark showed up nonetheless. Arriving at Y/N's apartment with specific instructions via text message to get bare and have a seat on the couch. That's how Clark found himself sitting on the couch, naked as the day his Ma and Pa found him in the cornfield in his alien spaceship, wrapped only in a red blanket to hide a naked and chubby baby.

Being naked shouldn't have been the problem. Clark and Y/N had already explored and accepted each other's bodies, but it was still so intimate. Being nude in your boyfriend's house could sure get a guy going. And Clark was going.

Before he could do something as embarrassing as rubbing one out on the plush green carpet underneath his bare feet; Clark heard the door to find Y/N entering. When he saw Clark, he smiled. “Hey, there.”

“Hey, yourself.” Clark said.

“I'm glad you could follow instructions.” Y/N smirks, eyes trailing down Clark's muscular chest, falling onto Clark Jr between his legs. Clark crossed his legs to keep his modest, but also to hide his embarrassment of his dick starting to chub up. A simple glance at his cock made him hard? Could Clark be even more of a nerd than he already was?

Clark wanted Y/N set a plastic bag down on the coffee table and pulled out a pink bottle. Noticing Clark gaze; Y/N smiled at him. “This little baby is gonna help you relax.” He turns the bottle around so Clark can read what it says. “Massaging lotion?” Clark asked.

“Yup. I'm gonna help you relax with a nice massage.” Y/N said.

“But why do I have to be naked?”

Y/N giggles. “It's the only way to make sure every part of you is…Satisfied.” Y/N let that hang in the air. The double meaning behind it. Clark blushed as Y/N moved towards him and sat down next to him on the couch. Clark's bare thigh touched Y/N's jean-covered on. “This isn't really fair if I'm the only one who's naked.” They both knew that Clark wasn't really upset about the nakedness. He just wanted an excuse to see Y/N naked too. Not that it would take much.

Smirking, Y/N, began to strip down until he was naked as Clark minus the silver cross necklace that hung around Clark's neck. Y/N began to squirt the lotion on his hands before he gently applied some pressure to Clark's shoulders.Clark's eyes slowly closed as he leaned into the massage, his muscles relaxing under his boyfriend's fingers. He lets out a soft groan of pleasure, his head nodding slightly as he savors the feeling. His glasses slip down his nose slightly, and he doesn't bother to push them back up.

“Jesus, Clark. You're so tense. You gotta give yourself some down time. It's the only way you'll be able to do both your jobs at the Daily Planet and as Superman.” Y/N said.

“You're right, but when do I find the time? It seems like there's always another story to chase down or another catastrophe brewing in Metropolis. Plus, you know how Perry is about taking breaks.”

"Screw, Perry. Even the Man of Steel has his lips. You can't be at your best, if you're not loose and relaxed enough." His fingers trailed from Clark's shoulders, to his chest. Clark's breath hitches slightly as Y/N's fingers trace down his chest. He opens his eyes, looking at his boyfriend with a mix of surprise and warmth. He considers arguing, but the soothing massage and gentle touch are making it hard to focus on anything else. "Alright, alright.”

Y/N smiled. "Good." He reached lower and grabbed in between Clark's legs as he began to stroke him soft and slow. A deep, throaty groan escapes Clark's lips as his eyes flutter closed again, pushing his glasses up to keep them from falling off. "Maybe you're right about needing…”

“To get off?” Y/N asked, applying more lotion and stroking faster.

Clark's voice is strained, his breath coming in short gasps as his boyfriend's hand works him over. “Oh my God. So good.”

"That's it, babe. Just feel my hand on your aching cock. Just waiting to spill all over it." Y/N pants in Clark's ear.

Clark throws his head back, a strangled moan escaping his throat at the vulgar yet arousing words in his ear.His skin was flushed with desire and embarrassment as he loses himself to sensation. His cock throbs heavily in Y/N's grasp, leaking copiously now.

"God, Clark. You look so beautiful like this. Leaking and hard for me. I'd put my job at the Planet in jeopardy if it meant that I could give you daily hand jobs underneath your desk.” Clark shudders at the thought, imagining secret trysts beneath his messy desk at the Daily Planet. “You're not playing fair.”

"I don't play fair, handsome." Y/N said, stroking Clark harder than before.

Clark's back arches off the couch as he nears his peak. His voice comes out rough and breathy. “Jesus... fuck... I'm... close.” His whole body tenses, including his stomach and chest muscles. He's completely naked and vulnerable, losing all control under Y/N's touch.

"Let go for me, baby. Cum for me. I wanna see you climax your stress away." Y/N moans, touching himself in the process of making Clark cum.

With a loud, primal cry, Clark's body convulses as he unleashes a massive orgasm. His cock pulses violently in Y/N's hand, painting his fingers with thick, white ropes of cum. His vision blurs as he rides out the intense climax, feeling his stress and tension melt away. Some of his jizz leaks onto the green carpet.

Y/N smiles. “Nice one.”

[bbybhr]

Just wanted to write smut with old man logan cause my loooong looong fic about him is still in progress and they're refusing to sleep with each other...bummer huh?I just use my drabble card

MDNI "slightly dubcon with old man logan"

Old man logan is the kind of guy who loves his pillow princess, life was so hard on him that he found himself yearning for taking control, and you; his sweet little angel knows it pretty well because he reminded you that so many times.

when he's kneeling infront of you, eating you out,practically devouring you with his mouth while holding your hips in his rough calloused hand, his shoulders beneath your knees, holding your lower body in the air as he sucks at your sensitive clit, making you mewl in overstimulation, and when you do as much as try to move a little on his tongue so you could get rid of that knot in your stomach hoping to get off a little sooner , he would growl while still lapping at your sweet cunt but now with more force, his hand grabbing your hips tighter, bruising them, not wanting you to move, just lay down and take everything he gives you. It's an unspoken yet clear rule.

And when he's done with your now puffy nub, having you sobbing infront of him, he would slowly lower your legs... but don't take that breath of relief yet! He would straight up his leaned posture, still on his knees looking down at you, admiring the mess he made out of you.

"My beautiful fucking girl"

He would rasp out as his hand touch the wetness that you made on his beard than slowly leaning on you again grabbing your knees and forcefully parting them

"Not done yet,princess"

He rubs his index finger along your foldes coating them with your juice as he leans closer to your pussy

"Can't get enough...what have you done to me..."

He mumbles more to himself than you

You're trying to maintain your tears as your body jerks from the sensation of his finger

"Logan..."

You plead, your voice shaking

"Shh I know, I know"

He would say before slowly teasing your entrance with his middle finger slowly pushing it forward, feeling your hot and wet walls around his digit. He would touch your inside with the tip of his finger and soon enough finding that gummy spot inside of you and pushing on it.

"Found it..."

He voices with a mean tune as a loud moan skip you and you try to move away from his touch.

"Uh uh,there's no running my little bunny...take it"

He pushes his finger further in you, pressuring the same spot, his other hand moves up resting at your lower stomach and as soon as he pistons his finger inside you he would press it with a little force.

You moan and squirm under his touch, the only thing you could focus on is how his finger feels inside of you; and the sweet pressure on your stomach where the same knot of pleasure builds up and up and up again.

He would add another finger expecting you to take it like the good girl you are, now two fingers knuckle deep pumping inside of you as a string of "pleas pleas pleas" leaves your lips

"Please what darlin"

He would ask unbothered by your state having you right where he wants you

"Need... need you. Lo...please"

You beg him for what?you don't even know. Your mind clouded and your body feels like a bunch of nerves ending, feeling logan everywhere

"Need what sweetheart?need more?you greedy little slut"

His voice gruff and full of need to be inside of you but he could tolerate it, if he gets to see you like this a little more

"Just wanting my full fucking attention on you huh?Well I'm gonna make damn sure that you get it"

He places his thumb on your oversensitive nub starting to stroking it in circular motion, deliberately ignoring your plead to stop

"I know what you really fucking want darlin, this shit ain't work on me"

He says as he's hand on your stomach move up pinching your nipple twisting it between his two fingers, his other hand still working wonders, making you see stars and you moan his name almost as loud as a scream

"Jesus...music to my ears"

He mumbles before grabbing you by the back of your neck pulling your face close to his, folding you in half and smashing his lips on yours; growling at the sweet taste you leave on his tongue and how your delicate body trembles under him...one again the knot in your stomach snaps and the rush of hormones washes over you leaving your body weak.

"That's it doll...there we go"

He cooed on your lips before biting your shaking bottom lips and riding you down your high.

You're a fucking mess under him as he lay you on your back again,body full on display and covered in a thin layer of sweat, glowing under the dim light, you made a wet patch on his bed between your legs and your cheeks and lips are blushed, an absolute goddess in his eyes, his innocent little lamb ravaged by the big bad wolf that he is

At this point he can not take it any longer, just grabbing you by your side and manhandling you with ease so you can lay on your stomach

"Lo...logan no...no more, please...I can't"

You beg with no hope

"Well tough luck honey...I'm just getting started"

He takes out his waistband before grabbing your delicate wrists and tieing them with it, harshly tug on the end of it to make it fit, than without any patient unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock out

He'll place his hand around your stomach and lifting you up just enough...his palm placed on your lower stomach yet again, with his other hand he guid his cock through your foldes, closing his eyes from the pleasure of the contact before he tease the tip in you making you cry harder from pain and pleasure

His hand than came up of your back, caressing the skin before going through your hair and pushing your head in the mattress as his tip rest inside of you, your walls pulsing around it repeatedly, a deep growl skipping from his chest at the feeling

"So perfect for your old man aren't you?now deep breath...Big stretch"

He talks you through it while pounding into you like a man possessed, at one point grabbing your neck again and pulling you so your back leans on his chest while the pathetic sound of "uhuhuhuh" skips you, one hand choking you and the other still on your stomach feeling the bulge he makes every time he fucks into you

"My perfect little toy...mine to fuck...mine to destroy"

He whispers in your ears before biting on it and that's the last thing you remember tomorrow when you wake up in his strong arms caging you

[booppooo]

mdni

warnings: wlw, fingering, p0rn w no plot, dom/sub dynamic, oral, that should be it?

"Goddamnit I said hold still!"

Your muscles were absolutely useless, except for the ones clamping down on her fingers. As much as you tried to fight it, Abby's thumb pressed against your tender, slick clit was making your eyes roll and your brain slip out of your ear. Everything below your belly button was hot and slippery.

"I can't-"

"Shut up. You're gonna cum for me." Somehow she found more power in her already strained, flexed arm.

That wasn't a question. Not when her thumb was replaced with her sloppy tongue and made the noises echoing from your cunt even more grossly delicious. She had a technique, one that made the space between your hips catch on fire and threaten to open the flood gates. Her unoccupied arm slammed down on your torso to keep your stationary. Less squirming meant she could curl her fingers easier and suck on your clit harder.

"Jesus - fuck!"

"Mmhmm..." she sounded proud; knowing.

The pleasure rippled up your spine, rendering your mind useless besides sending signals back down to your groin to accept the unmeasurable pleasure Abby delivering too fucking well. She was just sloppy now. Like a starved dog, serving as much stimulation to your throbbing clit and practically jamming her fingers against your bladder. Your thighs crushed against her head, but this didn't phase her.

"Abby, Abby I came- please-" your body began to jerk and convulse at the smallest touch.

Despite the empty ache she left behind, the lack of love to your cunt was a relief. Until she thought it would be funny to bring her palm down against it and chuckle.

"What the fuck!" You complained, both in confused pleasure and irritation.

"Just wanted to see what it sounded like?"

You groaned, "Happy now?"

Her eyes had locked onto your dripping groin, "No...you got one more in you."

[lover-of-mine]

Yo, I have been here for years too. I have watched ships I think should've happened not happen. I watched ships break up for dumb reasons. I have been on the buddie boat for years. You wanna doom in my inbox worse than you were after 706 because Buck used the word boyfriend? Say bt are endgame and you're done? Whatever. But y'all are unable to see the bigger picture and that's exhausting. They literally slapped a visitor badge on Tommy. No touches. They were standing 8 feet away from each other. You think that's true love in the soulmate show? Okay. Fine. Jump ship, switch sides, stop watching the show, whatever makes you happy. The season has 18 episodes, if you need everything to be resolved by episode 5 then my god. "Where are the hurdles?" Y'all suddenly can't wait for an arc to develop. Tommy is firmly an outsider because he's clinging to a space Buck already has filled. He was standing outside the door while they fixed Buck while Eddie was in the room. He also has EMT training but they called Eddie (he could've taken Buck to a doctor too). The fact that they showed Buck getting the text, then everyone else cheering, then Tommy looking all confused showed that he's not part of the firefam either. None of the scenes he was in were altered because he was there. The story would've gone the exact same route without him there. The seed is planted. If y'all can't wait to see the payoff because you're too tired of being lied to or whatever variation of if you decided on then leave. Bt is not gonna break up one episode and then buddie will be fucking the next. Y'all convinced yourselves that he wasn't going to be in the season. Y'all convinced yourselves the break up would happen instantly. The show is still using him to further Buck. You can't handle just watching a story unfold? Jesus.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day fourteen: orgasm denial | NSFW MDNI 18+

Suken in your bed, the stillness of the evening wrapped around your mind. You toyed with yourself for what seemed to be the seventh time tonight, desperately rubbing out the unfaltering tension of today. Your hand moved slowly, stimulating your now, tired-out, sensitive bud underneath the blanket. The low rattle of your fan filled the space, muffling your moans and whines as you worked on your new impending release.

You had been thinking about Logan, your teammate, all day—his cocky smirk, the way he always seemed so effortlessly composed even amidst chaos, his gruff masculine exterior, the quiet power in his every movement, his hands, his fingers... Everything about him made your skin tingle all over, even when he wasn't near.

You hadn’t meant to lose yourself like this. But the heat had built up slowly, like a simmer under your skin. Knowing he was just a few doors down didn’t help; it made it worse, actually. The idea of him so close, that he could just come inside and—As you felt your stomach begin to tighten in that familiar way, a knock came from the door.

You froze in place but before you could even inquire about who was at the door, Logan pushed it open, filling the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, dark and piercing, swept over you, and even though you were covered, you had the awful, thrilling feeling he could see exactly what you were doing.

“Jesus Christ.” His voice was low, a gravelly rumble that sent a shiver up your spine. “I could smell you from the hallway. You were thinking about me, weren't you?”

Your breath caught. Heat flooded your cheeks, burning with the shame of being caught. You turned your face away, but Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t rush. He took his time, moving toward you with that deliberate, heavy step of his, the weight of his presence making the air thick.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, his tone low but edged with that familiar gruffness, reaching out to tilt your chin up. “Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ya.” His thumb brushed your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were burning, dark and knowing. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?”

“I—” You tried to speak, but his words held you in place, the shame mixing with the heat coursing through your veins.

He huffed a low sound that almost sounded like a growl. “Don’t need to lie, darlin’. I’ve heard you. You think I don’t notice every time you’re makin’ those little sounds down the hall? Whispering my name like you’re starvin’ for it. Can't get a wink of sleep after a long day, with you playing with yourself over here.”

You swallowed hard, caught between embarrassment and the undeniable pull he had over you. His other hand slipped under the blanket, pushing past your hand and traced a long slow stroke up your slick-coated folds. You stifled a moan, stomach clenching in anticipation, but you were only met with disappointment as his touch quickly disappeared. 

“Fuck's sake, Y/N,” he said, voice rougher now, almost taunting. “Here I am, walkin’ into your room, and you’re already soaked just from thinkin’ about me.”

 He leaned in, his breath warm and heavy against your ear. “My big dick could fuck that neediness right out of you,”

A  moan escaped your lips, mind barely wrapping around the interaction, drunk off the tension between the two of you. "Logan, please, I need you," You breathed.

 "Not so fast, bub'... I don’t think you deserve it just yet, gotta prove to me that you're gonna be a good girl and learn a lesson.”  His voice was low, commanding, that growl unmistakable in the quiet room. You reached to touch him but he pulled away, making you squirm under the sheets. “You’re gonna wait until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Your breath hitched, your body aching with the need for more. Logan’s smirk deepened as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. "The more nights of sleep I get, the closer you'll be to getting what you want," His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his eyes flickering with something dangerous.

“Remember, darlin’,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “I’m the one in control here. You don’t get a damn thing until I’m ready to give it to you, understood?”

"Understood."

And with that, he stepped back, leaving you throbbing with frustration. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if savouring the sight of you desperate for him, before he turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left breathless, the ache inside you pulsing harder than ever. Now you were going to be the one missing out on sleep, which was most likely the lesson that Logan wanted you to learn.

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[savannahsdeath]

Can't stop thinking about sporty!Ellie and cheerleader! reader, and I love love love your writing style, would you mind writing smth about em? <33

first of all THANK YOU💞and of course 🙏

SOCCER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X CHEERLEADER!READER

part 1one

part 2two

mdni please<3

summary: ellie, as one of the best soccer players in the campus, is used to get everything she wants..until you

warnings: 18+!! please

writers note: i had this idea for a long time and i literally waited for someone to ask about it omg i just cant decide wether to make a part2 or not😓

"so it's not just gonna happen like that,

'cause I ain't no hollaback girl"

You and other cheerleaders had a rehearsal while one of your school soccer teams practised in the field behind you. This whole 'rehearsal' was just an excuse to meet and watch the footbal game, as you all already knew every move of your not-complicated plan.

You sat on one of the benches, listening to your friends talk, as you watched the players run after each other. She rolled up her shirt to 'wipe the sweat off of her forehead' but everyone knew it's just an attempt to show of her toned body. For a second she revealed hers simple, black, sports bra. Some girls, obviously the lesbian ones, started giggling and biting their lips, even though Williams didn't seem to care. You could proudly admit you're the only one who wasn't eating out of her hand - your friend had to nudge your arm with her elbow, whispering little; "Look at her!" to make you give Ellie some attention.

"That's disgusting." You mumbled, clearly meaning girls' reaction, not the girl herself.

"What? Why does that even matter?" Asked Lucy, nudging you once more. "Just look at her. Look at that body. Don't you want that for yourself?" She chuckled, and you frowned, but you couldn't help but stare at the attractive girl on the field. Her skin glistened in the summer sun, and her abs were defined in the most distracting way possible. Suddenly, the soccer practice wrapped up, and Ellie walked over to the group of girls. Lucy winked at you. "Enjoy the show."

"Hi, ladies." She playfully greeted your group.

"Heyyy, Ellie." Lucy said with a grin. The other girls in the group greeted her warmly as well, but you remained quiet.

She glanced over at you and smiled, noticing your silent and slightly annoyed expression. "Not feeling well?" She asked, her smile becoming a teasing smirk.

You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "I'm just fine." You murmured, your gaze shifting to Ellie for a short second.

Her teasing smirk grew wider. "Oh, come on. You can look at me longer than that." She chuckled, raising her eyebrows at you. Ellie leaned in closer, and you could feel the heat on her body as she spoke. "Isn't it a little weird that you haven't been checking me out like all the other girls here?"

"They're the weird ones. Drooling at the sight of you kicking a ball." You pointed at each one, making fun of them, just like always. They all laughed as you turned back to Ellie, fixing your skirt.

"That's fair." Ellie smirked again, leaning closer, which caused your friends to make 'ooh-ing' and 'aah-ing' noises. Suddenly, she bent down and picked up your water bottle. "Mind if I take a sip?" She asked but before you could answer, she was already unscrewing it. You couldn't help but awkwardly look down as her lips touched the spot that yours usually occupied.

"No, actually, I do mind that." You exclaimed, trying to reach for the bottle. But Ellie stepped back, teasing you with it, as if it was some kind of game.

"Aw, come on. Sharing is caring, right?" She said, still smirking.

"You're ridiculous." You said, glaring at Ellie. She laughed, not at all bothered by the tension between the two of you.

Luccy shook her head and whispered; "Jesus, she's so into you."

"Into me? She's ruining our practices with those little antics!" You shouted in a whisper, trying to make it seem unsuspectingly.

"Yeah - to get your attention. Can't you see that?" She stopped for a second, trying to come up with any examples. "Do you remember when you missed one of our meetings? She came to us, immediately asking 'Where's your leader, girls?' even though two other girls weren't there too! But of course she noticed your absence first." She seemed to notice the look on your face - the 'shut up, you're overreacting' one, so she quickly continued; "And when we told her you had to go to the doctor she looked worried. Fucking worried! Can you beli-...?"

Your friend stopped speaking as she saw Ellie getting closer again. She gave you your water back and ruffled your hair, sitting in front of you.

You knew what's going to happen - as soon as other girls will stop paying attention to her, she'll start tease, compliment, sometimes taunt you for a while. Before she could make any comment on your 'too tight top' or 'too insipid water', you stood up and hugged Lucy, murmuring simple; "I'm tired, I'll go home earlier." You waved to the rest of the group and went to an empty, as always in the afternoon, dressing room.

Instead of changing back to 'everyday clothes', you sat down and started pointlessly scroll through the internet. You got so caught up in reading one of the 'See if your cat is healthy!' articles (you don't have a cat) that only someones' footsteps brought you down to earth. You went into one of the changing rooms, hoping to finally dress up, but you were still focused on your phone.

Eventually, someone started speaking.

"I don't know, it's weird. Cheerleaders weren't supposed to be so stubborn." You heard Ellie's voice, followed by her footsteps. It sounded like she was nervously pacing around the room. "I mean, they aren't, just the leader. The prettiest, yet the hardest to get." A pause. "What? No! She's definitely into girls. She was dating the captain of the rival's team.. What was her name again?" Another pause. "Right, Vi. What does she has, that I don't?" And another pause, much longer this time.

Vi was your ex girlfriend - you two broke up after she cheated on you. There was a huge drama going on, almost everyone in school turned out to be involved. It was long ago though, you already moved on.

You frowned, trying to hold back your amusement. Ellie's voice was almost... desperate.

She laughed, breaking your thoughts. "I know, I know! But jesus, what is wrong with her? I make it so obvious!... What? Of course, I'm not saying- Look, she's not easy, that's the best part. I don't remember anyone else reacting so negatively to my teasing comments. Her friend told me-... Hush, that's what I'm saying!"

You froze. Of course she was talking about you, you knew she does. Her teammates or other cheerleaders always tell you when she does. 'Ellie was asking, if you-' this, 'Ellie asked me to tell you-' that. She could have everyone she'd want to, except you. That's why she was so obsessed with you, you expected her to rant about it. What catched you off-guard was 'Her friend told me-'. Lucy knew everything about you - the fact you hate Ellie's attitude but it turns you on at the same time, too. The fact you don't check her out in public isn't because you don't find her attractive, quite the opposite - you don't want to get distracted, too. How much of those embarrasing behaviours Ellie may know about from your dear friend?

The call ended but you could still hear her pacing around.

'What am I doing? I'll just change up and go home, like nothing happened ' you thought. And that would be really the best option but when you looked around, you realised you left your backpack outside.

Ellie seemed to notice that too, muttering some curse words.

There was no point in hiding. You came out and tossed your phone to your bag. Her eyes awkwardly followed you, she was waiting for you to speak up.

"I may accidentally overhear something." You said, pretending to look for something in your backpack.

"I figured that out already." She said sarcastically.

"Well..." You turned around to face her. "What do you expect from me?"

She chuckled, her embarrassment fading away. "Any reaction would be good. I just need to know..." She took a few steps towards you and thought about it for a moment, before adding; "Or you can pretend you heard nothing."

Now it was your turn to laugh. "And let you get away with it? No, thanks. That was fucking weird, you should feel bad. Who were you even talking to? Your mom?"

She smirked, leaning on the table you were standing near to. "A teammate, actually. You know Riley? Or are you so busy pretending you're not staring at me the whole practices that you don't remember any other players?"

You decided to ignore her last question. "Oh yeah, yeah, Riley. She's the blonde haired one, right?" You asked, pretending to remember.

"No, she's not. Whatever." Ellie leaned in closer, putting her elbows on the table and looking you in the eyes. "Look, I won't pretend that I wasn't talking about you. I like you, okay? Simple as that."

"Here you are, all that just for shits and giggles." You said, still grinning, obviously taking it as a joke. It's Ellie fucking Williams, of course she's just messing around! "You're lucky I'm not completely cruel, or I'd punch you by now."

Ellie smirked at you, her eyebrows still raised. She seemed to enjoy teasing you, but there was a seriousness in her eyes that she tried to hide. You wondered if she was just flirting, or if these feelings truly meant something to her. "Why won't you just kiss me instead?"

You rolled your eyes.

Ellie was persistent, that was for sure. She was also gorgeous, which only made her all the more seductive. "Why not?" she asked with a grin.

"Because I don't go around kissing every girl that flirts with me." You laughed.

"Am I not special enough for you?" She pouted. She was still a flirty mess, but now you were starting to think she might mean this. She was actually asking you for a kiss, as if she expected you to say yes.

"I don't kiss just anybody." You said, trying to be as serious as possible. "You're going to have to earn it."

Ellie raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued by your response. She looked at you with a sly smirk, and you could tell she really wanted that. "How do I earn it?" She asked, getting closer to you.

"Win the tomorrow's match." You patted her back and left, not waiting for her reaction.

Tomorrow's match - two best teams and leaders rivaling - Ellie and the well known Vi.

[prettypinkporkchop]

A/N: Reader dislikes Embry. When he imprinted on her, she got pissed off. Ofc she thinks he's attractive, but he annoys her. Also, this is after they all graduate. Embry is 19.

Embry call x fem reader

"Y/n, Victoria is after you too." Alice looks at you. You observe the faces of all the vampires in the room. Jacob and Embry stand beside you. "Jesus christ. We're in." Jake steps forward.

"No way." Bella objects. "This is what you want. Us working together." Jacob smirks at her. You look over to Embry who has his arms crossed and is in deep thought.

After the talk, you guys go to Emily's house. Quil made a joke about your hairline. "Burn!!!" Embry laughs. You roll your eyes at him and pinch his arm. "Aye!" He glares at you. "Shut up." You spit. "Dude, chill the fuck out." He argues like a child. "Mom and dad don't fight over me, please!" Quil jokingly cries. "Whatever." You get up to leave Emily's. Embry grabs your wrist. "You're not leaving here without me. Victoria will kill you." You jerk your arm away. "You're not my boss. Why did you imprint on me? I didn't like you when you were regular human and now that we have this stupid ass bond, you're up my ass." He backs away from you. "Move." He warns you. "What? You gonna hurt me?" You taunt.

He phases and howls, running into the woods. Quil runs out and looks at you. "You know, he may be a bit childlike but he's a good guy. He loves you. Cut him some slack." Quil says.

---- the tent scene ----

Bella and Edward are in one tent while you and Embry are in the other. You shiver and hold onto the thick blanket. Embry stares at you, feeling guilty. "Stop staring, Call." You grit. "Let me help-"

"Don't." You hold your hand out to stop him from moving to you. "This is all my fault." He sighs and looks down. "I let you around Bella. I should've step my foot down." He puts his head in his hands. "You didn't LET me do anything. You're not in charge of me." You hiss.

He looks up at you. Your lips are turning blue and your teeth are chattering. He rolls his eyes and sits next to you. You groan and he looks at you with a stern face. "I'm not going to touch you. Just trying to give you some relief." You give in feeling how warm he is. You lean against him, putting your hands on his waist.

"We aren't talking about this after." You mumble against his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head. "You need sleep." He lays back, pulling you down with him. "No I don't." You try to argue to make sure he knows that he annoys you.

The longer you hold onto him, the more you realize you can't deny the feelings you have for him any more. Right now, you feel safe. He keeps you safe. He cares about you.

You get lost in thought about everything he does for you that you forget that he even annoys you. He's two years younger than you, he likes to be rowdy and rough house, but you're his. You think about how you can find it cute and enjoy the immaturity.

"I'm sorry." You break the silence. He looks down at you, confused. "I'm sorry for treating you badly. I'm just not used to being around silly guys. I'm a serious person, but the more I think of it, you can even me out. We even each other out. I really do love you, Embry. I have this whole time. I was just scared of getting into this forever when we are opposites." You admit.

He grabs your face and makes you look at him. "Are you going to regret this?" He asks quietly. "No."

You lean in and kiss him. His lips are fire on yours. The first kiss has you melting into his arms.

He pulls away and places his forehead on yours. "I love you, doll."

"I love you, my everything." You whisper the last part. He smiles and giggles, pulling you on his chest and laying down.

---- after the battle at Emily's----

You sit at the table with Jared, Quil, and Paul. Jacob, Embry, and Sam walk in. Embry kisses your cheek and sits next to you. "Hey baby." He puts his hand on your knee. "Hey, my love." You smile at him and give him a quick peck on the lips.

Paul turns to Jared and holds out his hand, "twenty bucks, cough it up." He smirks.

"Bro!" Jared rolls his eyes and hands it to him. Quil smiles at you guys and gives you a thumbs up.

[mypoisonedvine]

If you’re not taking multiple requests from people ignore this but you choose: soul comforting levels of Burt fluff, or soul destroying I am Not In A Good Place and I want Joby Taylor to Wreck Me smut. Or stepping on Riddly Boi.

all of these are great options but I'm in the most fucked up mood and I need joby carnally holy shit

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!, some dubcon elements, hatesex, choking, dumbification, pretty hardcore degradation, semi-public sex, overstimulation/forced orgasm, hair pulling, unwanted creampie, just fucknastiness and toxic as hell dynamics with a touch of angst at the end

"Where'd all that attitude go, huh? What about all that stuff about how you couldn't fucking stand me, how you never wanted to see me again?"

"Shut up," you hissed, "just shut up and fuck me, please--"

He shook his head, you could feel it against the crook of your neck, and curled his fingers a little more inside you; you whimpered, arching your back up off the dirty wall of the dirty backroom of this dirty bar. Everything about this was dirty, but you didn't care: the muffled, mediocre rock music coming in through the cracks in the door; the sticky floor under your boots; the smell of liquor and cigarettes and rain and desperation.

This was what you craved. This was what you deserved. This was what you always came back to.

"Please," you gasped again, rocking your hips against his hand. He pushed his fingers deeper until you felt one of his rings inside you-- he must've known what that would do to you.

"M'not gonna fuck you yet," he decided, "not until you beg for it."

"Fuck you," you groaned, but to punish you for your insolence he stopped moving his fingers.

You didn't realize how desperate you were, how much you were not in the mood to be trifled with, until he did that. But it fucking pissed you off-- and in a moment of rage you shoved him away roughly, enough to knock him off balance and force his hand out of your panties.

"Don't fucking taunt me, Joby!" you warned him. "I'm not in the mood for that shit."

"Don't fucking push me," he returned with a snarl, pinning you to the wall. "Jesus, you're such a bitch."

"Whatever," you decided as you started to writhe out of his grasp, "fuck this, I'm leaving."

"Like fuck you are," he spat grabbing you and pulling you back towards him, ignoring your yelp of pain. "You wanna play rough? Fine."

This time when he shoved you into the wall again, it was face-first; you barely turned your head in time to keep your nose from getting squished, but he didn't care, he was too busy roughly yanking your panties down to your knees.

His body pressed against yours, keeping you trapped as he quickly opened his belt and jeans. Spitting into his hand and smearing it over his cock, he forced his cock into you in one brutal thrust. When you whimpered in pain and surprise, trying to reach back to push his hip and stop him from going any deeper, he growled and grabbed your hands to pin you to the wall completely. "This is what you fucking wanted," he reminded you, snapping his hips and burying himself into you completely. "This is what you asked me for-- you wanted to get fucked, right?"

He was ruthless as soon as he started moving, of course; hard, fast thrusts that kept knocking you into the wall as you whined.

"You know better, baby," he cooed, lips nearly pressed against your ear as he spoke, hot breaths fanning your skin. "You know this is what you get, what did you expect? You didn't think I was going to be nice, did you?"

Obviously you didn't-- you don't drag Joby Taylor back behind the bar because you want to be treated nice. But as your body finally adjusted to him, you sighed a little and your head fell back because it did feel nice, in its own way.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he pressed. "Say it."

"I-- I wanted..." you mumbled, struggling to form a sentence at all. "I, uh-- fuck-- I wanted you..."

You felt his smile against your ear, and then his teeth against your neck. "You can barely talk already," he noticed.

But you don't drag Joby Taylor behind the bar because you want to talk, either.

"This is what you needed, huh?" he realized. "Needed to be fucked right so you don't have to think anymore. You always get so stupid when my cock is in you."

He must have noticed the way you clenched inside, your needy gasp when he insulted you like that.

"You like being my stupid slut?"

You managed to nod, at least-- that was probably the best he was going to get out of you for a while.

"You want me to choke you, don't you?"

You nodded again, but his hand was already around your neck.

Technically, you were the only thing that went silent in that moment-- but the static that filled your brain made it seem like everything was muffled when he did that. He only did it for a few seconds at first, just enough time to really focus on the sound of his hips slapping against your ass; your moan was weak and desperate when he gave you air again.

He knew what you could take. Even more than that, he knew what you needed. The next time he pressed his fingers down, he didn't let up until your vision was almost black and the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

Then, when he let go, you made the most desperate and pathetic. "Oh shit," he hissed encouragingly, "you're close, huh? You love it so much, Jesus. About to cream all over me just cause I choked you-- fuckin' filthy."

He cut off your next moan halfway through-- he pushed you even further that time, until you almost tried to struggle even if you barely had the power to, and when he let go you sobbed out his name. You would've been so ashamed to say his name like that just a few minutes ago, but that was back when you had a shred of dignity.

You didn't even have to say anything when you came, you just let out a wavering moan and felt your legs quiver, and he knew. "There it is," he growled proudly. "You always come so fast when I treat you like shit, don't you? What a dumb fucking whore."

Limp and helpless, you melted into it-- you were ready to go blank, be numb, just let the ecstasy carry you until he was done. Joby had other ideas, though.

His arm wrapped around you and his fingers quickly found your clit; as soon as he pressed them against it, rubbing fast circles, you jolted and tried to reach down for his hand.

"N-no, I can't," you began weakly.

"I need one more," he demanded, but it was too much; you whined loudly, shaking and shuddering and trying to jerk your hips away somehow, but obviously you were trapped. Even if the pressure on your clit wasn't enough to make you struggle like this, he was still fucking into you... it was impossibly overwhelming.

"I can't, I can't," you sobbed-- there were already tears in your eyes just from the sensation. "Joby-- fuck!"

"Shh, shh," he tried to soothe you, "somebody's gonna hear if you scream like that."

"Please," you begged-- for relief, for mercy, for just a second to breathe.

"Somebody's gonna fucking hear you," he warned again, much less sweetly than before. And when you still didn't listen to his implied instruction-- because, of course, you were already being as quiet as you could with him putting you through so much-- he found a way to shut you up.

Choking you again, he rubbed on your clit even harder, even faster-- and you were incapable of screaming, but it's what you would've done. It was brutal and raw and almost painful, but you did come again: a sharp, tugging sort of orgasm that he wrenched out of you so aggressively. And the way he never let go of your neck, keeping your pulse suppressed, only seemed to heighten it even more. Your vision went white and you shook uncontrollably for a few moments as the peak of it really hit you.

"Oh my god, oh my god," he praised through his teeth as he fucked you through it. "Shit, baby, feel how tight you're fuckin' squeezing me? Fuuuck..."

You barely registered his words, of course; you had no brain power for any of that. You were hardly even conscious, actually.

"Gonna fuckin' come inside you," he announced, "gonna fill this little cunt-- fuck, fuck--!"

His hand was still tight on your neck, so you couldn't tell him to stop-- you reached back and weakly tried to physically stop him, as if that was ever possible, but he hardly even noticed. It was too late anyways, he was already moaning lowly and slowing his thrusts down as his cock flexed inside you.

He pushed it to the last second, letting go of your neck only when he was finished, as he relaxed behind you and dropped his head back with a deep groan of satisfaction. You still made the most inhuman sound when you had air again, obviously... you choked on your own gasp for oxygen, you sobbed helplessly, you moaned pathetically-- all at once, somehow.

But you still had enough lucidity to kick him away, forcing him out of you a little sooner than he expected. "What the fuck!" you yelped at him, though it didn't sound especially confident when you were still catching your breath.

"What?" he wondered, still looking pretty out of it.

"You came in me?!" you noticed, reaching down and touching your hole to find not only plenty of cum leaking out of you but more soreness than you expected which made you wince. "Aw, dude..." you whined in annoyance.

"Was I supposed to pull out?" he mumbled.

"Obviously!" you shouted.

"Hey, you didn't say anything!" he noticed defensively.

"I couldn't fucking breathe," you recalled.

"You didn't say anything before," he clarified, "how the fuck am I supposed to know--?"

"'Cause you always pull out!"

"Whatever, I'll buy you a pill," he promised, "it's not a big deal."

"I can buy my own pill," you rolled your eyes, quickly pulling your panties back up and your dress back down before you reached for the door.

"You're seriously just gonna leave?" he frowned.

"Yeah, what the fuck else are we gonna do-- cuddle?" you mocked.

"Fine, Jesus, just go then," he decided with a scoff.

And so even though you were still sore and leaking and your knees were still weak and bruises were forming on your neck, you walked out the door and slammed it behind you, shoving your way through the crowded bar and back outside. Though you weren't really sure why, you wiped another tear off your cheek.

[bratdotcom]

He Needs Me!

swansea x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker

⋆ tags : coworkers/friends(?) to lovers, slowburn, angst(?), mutual pining

word count : 2k+ ( and proud !! ^^ ) ⋆

Swansea wonders why he was doing this.

Holding two mugs of warm coffee in his hands. He promised to keep the pot hot for you. He even said you made the brew better than he ever could.

He felt...soft.

There were many things Swansea was known for. Being soft wasn't one of them.

He voices his thoughts out loud to himself in the empty kitchen. "What the fuck am I doing..?" He sighs tiredly, putting both mugs on the counter with a soft clink as he awaits your return.

You were both playing with fire, doing this.

Crossing the line between decorum and affection. Genuine human connection in the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space. How cliche.

Swansea remembers the smile on your face when he praised your coffee making skills, the way you stretched out your arms to put away the tub. If it weren't for the knot in his back, he probably would've helped you.

"Where the hell is.." Before he can finish his sentence, you step into the kitchen. Smiley, as always.

He never could wrap his head around how you could be so...happy all the time. It reminded him of a certain someone he couldn't put his finger on.

The scowl on his face softens, ever so slightly.

"Finally, you're here. Jesus." Swansea huffs, crossing his arms over chest. "If I wanted to wait this long, I would have pulled out a chair myself."

He pushes off of the counter with a heave, two lukewarm mugs of coffee in his hands. "Here." He says gruffly, shoving a mug into your hand without question.

"Thanks for waiting for me." Is all you say in response, smiling at him gladly. Swansea bites back a mean comment to say, not wanting to unintentionally hurt your feelings.

"Always seeing the good in everything, don't ya, sunshine?" He uses the nickname sarcastically, he could practically see the energy radiating off of you. He further emphasizes his sarcasm with the usual frown he had accompanying his features. Deep set wrinkles tugging down his lips.

You take a long sip from your mug before responding. "I saw some hot packs in the med bay. Maybe Anya will let me nab some later."

You were so...caring. It made sense to him, you being the ship cook and all. You added a human touch that most of the crew missed while on the Tuplar.

He didn't get why you focused more on him than the others.

Him, of all people.

Swansea follows you to the dining table, setting down his aching muscles with another sigh. He looks at you with tired eyes.

"I never ask you to do things for me, you know."

"Well, you never complain about my cooking." You say back, smiling as you drink your lukewarm coffee. Is that all you do? Smile and slave away in a kitchen?

He shakes his head and looks away, eyes focusing on a corner of the room to keep himself from thinking about the way you looked at him. He had to keep it together. He wasn't the touchy type.

He had enough self-loathing in him to believe that anyway.

"What do you even do in that shower anyway? You were in there long enough for the coffee to get all shitty." His words were harsh, but he meant them with the utmost care possible.

He wanted to hear you talk again. Your voice was better on his ears than the hums of the ship he constantly heard throughout the workday.

You answer with your mug held to your chest, knees folded against the edge of the table."Oh, I was washing off the curry stains on my uniform." Swansea's mind circles back to the lunchtime from earlier, Daisuke accidentally spilling his leftovers on you. That kid needed to watch where he was going, but Swansea wasn't planning on being the one to tell him that.

His eyes steel on you. "Quit sitting like that. You're gonna pull a muscle or somethin'." He pokes your knee with the pad of his fingertip, his elbow against the wood of the dining table. Worn down and old, just like the rest of the ship.

"Sorry, sorry." You apologize with a chuckle, now sitting properly in your seat. Swansea rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

"Be careful next time." He says, fingers wrapped around the curve of his mug. He meant his words, he really did. Even though they came out mean. He couldn't control it.

Another thing he wished he could control was the way his eyes settled on you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame. There was a reason why he avoided you like the plague.

"I fixed the sink like you asked." He says, silencing himself with a long sip from his mug. God, in the corner of his eye, he could see the appreciation written all over your face. "Good as new." He adds, lower back still hurting from kneeling down and fixing the sink on his own, without the help of his intern.

Some people were just better off by themselves. Including him.

"As good as this ol' girl can get, anyway." He's almost down to his last drops of coffee now. He wonders if you'll still want to talk to him after this. After everything he was doing to try and push you away.

"Thanks a ton, Swansea. I owe you a bunch." He was just doing his job.

Hearing you thank him for his work made his chest feel warm. He'd be damned if he wasn't lying to himself.

His beer belly presses against the table as he speaks. Swansea leans in closely. "You don't owe me anything." He replies, his much rougher hand almost inching towards yours. Tentatively, he pulls away.

In contrast to his, your hand was smooth. Barely noticeable scratches, marks of merit from your work. Feeding the hungry mouths of the crew, using your own heart and skill.

He appreciated you more than you thought.

"You work too hard, Swansea." Your hand slides closer to his.

His eyes drop slightly past the tired bags of his eyes. He sees how close your hand was to his.

"I work enough. You don't have to give a damn for a man like me."

Swansea almost wants to pull away, but something about this moment feels right to him. It's been...so long since he's had a proper conversation. Where someone cared for him. Worried for him. He heard the way you spoke.

"You're not just any man. Not to me."

He had to go now. Now or never. He was in too deep.

Swansea squares his shoulders, cup barely empty. He gets up to leave but feels something tugging on the back of his shirt.

Your hand.

"Don't go. Don't leave me here alone." You plead. "I'll pour you another cup of coffee. I'll do anything." You say, and as you say that, Swansea searches your eyes for something. Something more than just worry for a fellow employee's work-life balance.

He stays.

His rough hand gently removes yours from his shirt. The gruffness in his voice softens.

"You don't have to do that to make me stay." He says, going back to his seat.

He almost wants to take your hand again. The distress in your eyes was as clear as day to him. You were hurt.

He had to know what was wrong. All these years of working with you, and he had nothing to show of it besides pushing you away and keeping himself barely out of reach. Enough to talk but never to touch.

"I have something to tell you. Please don't go. Please." The shake in your voice makes him sink further into his seat. He wasn't planning on going anywhere. Not until you told him what was wrong.

Swansea has to choose his words carefully now. He didn't want to make things worse. The fatigue in his eyes meets yours.

"Tell me what's botherin' you and I'll lend an ear. I ain't going nowhere."

His words hang in the air alongside the mechanical hums of the ship.

"Trust me."

Swansea places his hand atop yours as he says that, reassuring you with the weight of his palm against your own.

He was holding your hand now. In his own way.

Fingertips against the pulse of your wrist. You could feel his heartbeat in between your fingers. Intimacy hidden behind subtle touches on wood coated lacquer.

"Tell me what's wrong." Swansea's voice softens more, his hand now around your wrist. He still keeps his hold on you to remind you that he's still there.

You can't bear to look him in the eye now, even if you always looked for him first. Your voice is low, almost merging with the Tuplar's sounds.

"They're.." You had no idea why you were drawing out your words like this. Making Swansea wait was a pain as much as it was to yourself.

His hold on your wrist tightens quietly as if he was trying to encourage you to continue on. Swansea was a prepared man. He knew the ins and outs of the line of work you both found yourselves in.

Your eyes were glued preemptively to the floor now as you finished your sentence.

"They're replacing me, Swansea."

Swansea stares at you quietly. Soaking in what you said.

It was inevitable, wasn't it? Their lives didn't mean as much as a rat's ass to the company.

He should've seen this coming. He knew how things worked around here.

He leans in attentively, his elbows now pressed against the table.

"Why?" He asks, genuinely wondering why the Pony Express would ever replace you. It would've made more sense to Swansea if they replaced him.

It should've been him, not you.

In his eyes, you did nothing wrong to deserve this. You never did. Sure, you acted stupid sometimes. But enough time on a piece of shit like this does that to a person sometimes.

You were the heart of the ship. You kept people fed. You reminded them of the home waiting for them. A taste of what they were leaving behind.

You pull your hand away, resting it on top of your shoulder. Forearm against the center of your chest. Right across your ribs.

You've thought of this moment over and over again in your head.

It was always harder to say something when the thing on your mind was right in front of you, wasn't it? You loved him more than you loved the job itself. You actively sought him out during his lunch breaks, secretly sliding him extras onto his plate when he liked the dish you made.

You didn't say it, but your actions were enough to show you saw him as someone more.

You didn't want to leave. Not yet.

A genuine frown plays on his wrinkles as you pull away. You still won't look him in the eye.

"I got the papers the first day we boarded. After this job is over, they plan on upgrading the living area with automated food giving machines." That was the fancy way to put it, using professional jargon the higher ups spoke in to hide the emotion in your voice. The uncertainty of what was to come for the both of you.

Finally, you look at him. Eyes wet with tears.

"I'm getting replaced by...by vending machines, Swansea."

Your arms tighten around your chest, your other hand against your sleeve, slowly closing in on yourself as if you were in acceptance of your situation. Like there was nothing you could do.

Vending machines. They were replacing you with vending machines.

Your last trip around the stars and you decide that he's the one you want to spend your final days and nights with.

He didn't know what was going to kill him first. You or the constant stress of never-ending work needing to be done.

And if he had to choose a way to die surrounded by the stars, he'd choose you.

The angry, confused tears start to well up in your eyes.

"Don't..." Swansea sighs to himself. Again, what the fuck was he doing? He should've left when he had the chance. Every signal in his body told him to leave.

But his legs didn't move.

It may have been selfish, but he didn't want to see you cry. He was all about tough love, but even he knew his limits.

He runs a hand through his short brown hair, smoothing out the strands as he thinks of what to do to help you. To comfort you.

Not as a coworker, but as a man.

"C'mere."

Swansea breathes through his nose, arms wide open for you to hug. He nudges the leg of the table out of the way to welcome you into his embrace without you being squished in between him and the piece of furniture. Another small way of showing how much he cared for you.

You were always on his mind, even without thought.

He wasn't always the best with words. By God, he was scared as you dragged yourself out of your chair and into his arms.

He can feel the beat of your chest against his. Your hearts connected together through the way you rested against his chest, his big arms wrapped around you almost protectively.

"I won't let them take you away from me." There was a tinge of vulnerability in his tone as he speaks.

He crumbles in your arms. The smell of your hair fills his lungs. The comforts of the kitchen mixed with your shampoo hit his senses in the best way possible. You fit perfectly against him, the palm of his hand in the small of your back.

"I'm here for you. Don't..." Swansea realizes what he's saying. His words were almost a confession. He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew he was giving you a promise.

A promise that he wouldn't leave, that he wouldn't let them take you away.

A promise that he'd keep.

With a calloused thumb, he wordlessly wipes away your tears. His gaze fully softened.

His hand comes to a still, resting against your cheek. He looks down at you quietly.

"You're worth more than ya think to the crew." The warmth of your skin mixes with his.

"And you're worth more than ya think to me."

You sniffle, finding comfort in his words.

"You know, I've always liked you." You smile at him, your fingers molding against the bone of his knuckles.

"You always cleaned your plate and never complained. You never had anything bad to say about my cooking." His eyes widen as you say your words.

He could disassemble machinery and put it back together himself as easily as he could tie his shoe. He knew the layout of the ship like the back of his hand.

And yet he didn't realize that you confessed to him hours before. You repeat what you said earlier, almost word for word.

His hand lowers down your cheek, thumb now thoughtfully pressed against the corner of your lip.

"I've always liked you too." Swansea confesses quietly, your hands travel further up his sides, to the planes of his shoulders. They settled there comfortably, as if that was where they were supposed to be all this time.

This was more than just camaraderie now. You were always more than just a friend.

"Can I kiss you?" Your thumbs caress along the fabric of his shirt.

A wry smile plays silently on his lips. Do you even have to ask that now? You just confessed your feelings to him. The feeling was mutual.

God, you were lucky that you were cute.

"Yes, sweetheart. You can kiss me." A deep chuckle leaves his chest at your words. He pulls you closer, encouraging you with a squeeze to the small of your back.

Gingerly, your hands find the collar of his shirt, you lean in to kiss him, pressing your lips against his. You tasted better than any bottle he's put to his lips in his life.

Swansea melts into the kiss. Years of yearning, words never said, all rolled into one. With the way you held onto him, it was like you never wanted this kiss to end. Like you never wanted to let go.

Finally, you pull away. Swansea smiles at you like a cocky idiot.

He gazes into your eyes, a look of love in them. A look that he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

"Never took ya to be such a good kisser, sweetheart." He comments, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.