#Body slam the shithead with words

[evelynnocto]

tonights debate will be absolutely cathartic

[inmaki]

gojo making fun of your other fwb

( smut, a little smthn while i work on my nanami fic <3 ) .

"just put it in, for fucks sake."

gojo chuckles, running his mushroom-shaped tip up and down your folds. every time he reaches your hole, he pushes his cock in just enough to breach your entrance, before pulling out and continuing his ministrations. like a fucking idiot.

"aw, y’want my dick that bad? 'need me to fill you up?" what about matsukawa?"

your expression sours, sending him an annoyed look. this was by far the first time he’s brought up his displeasure for your other friend, especially in bed.

“are you trying to make me dry?" you bark, trying to close your legs - which he immediately stops with a large hand. "if you wanna fuck, stop talking about him and hurry."

gojo rolls his eyes, despising the way you're practically defending the fucker. sure, he's just a friend too - but you were clearly his; you've always been addicted his lips against yours, his hands on your body, his cock against your cervix. now this other shithead thinks he can come and take that away?

he doesn't know how to handle it besides-

"is this how he fucks you?" suddenly, he forces only an inch or two inside you, barely thrusting in and out with a mischievous smile. a hum leaves his lips as your insides squeeze him firmly, but he's stubborn enough to hold back the urge to fill you up properly. "probably can’t reach anything, i bet even my fingers are bigger."

the audacity and immaturity of the man in front of you has you baffled. here you are, ready to be fucked into the mattress by him - and all he can do is joke about some other guy's dick length? you desperately want to scold him, tell him to fuck off - but as expected - the feeling of his fat cock not reaching where you need has your mind going blank in desperation.

"please.. just fuck me, toru."

he smirks, and without giving you any time to adjust, he's mercilessly slamming in the rest of his length so the tip presses right up against your womb. his balls smack against you from below, and you shiver at the feeling of his white pubic hair grazing your pelvis. "so i'm right? hah, what a fuckin' loser. 'course he has a small dick."

you're too busy catching your breath to hear him, and gojo smoothly takes that opportunity to throw your legs over his shoulders and press them against your chest, ensuring his cock hits your g-spot at the perfect angle. just how you like it.

the white-haired bastard can't help but smile, licking his lips at your rolled back eyes and the harmonious ah, ah, ah's that escape your throat with each brutal slam of his hips. "becoming my brainless cocksleeve as usual, so damn cute. only i can rearrange these guts, right?" he demands, bending you even further while getting right in your face.

"say it. say who owns this sloppy," thrust, "fucking," thrust, "pussy," thrust.

“you, only you!” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

“who?” he grinds right against your cervix, nearly pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

“sa- satoru!”

he rewards you by lowering a thumb to play with your clit, cerulean eyes staring into your very soul. “damn right. scream it louder.”

suddenly, a quiet ding! comes from your bedside table. gojo glances down to your blissed-out face, cautiously peering over to see a message from none other than the man of of the hour.

matsu: wyd? can i come over?

gojo smiles. typing in a response with one hand while the other keeps your thigh firmly against your chest.

you: yea, be quick daddy ;)

you would definitely kill him after this.

( reblogs & comments r appreciated if u enjoy! had this idea at 2am sorry if it’s bad <\3)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW - L.H.

Summary: To keep up the ruse of Charles, Laura, you and him being nothing but an ordinary family, Logan shares a heartfelt memory he’s been hiding. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Logan is hopelessly in love, Charles being a shithead (lovingly)

A/N: I could not get Old Man Logan outta my mind, so this transpired from all that. I initially wrote it from the reader's perspective, but I changed it to focus on Logan's thoughts and feelings. Enjoy!

PART TWO

If looks could kill intentionally injure, then Charles would definitely have throbbing wounds all over his body. Logan shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to calm his increasing blood pressure as listens to the old man enthusiastically accept the Munson family’s gracious invitation to dinner. He sighs, returning to the driver’s seat, avoiding the rear view mirror lest he catch Charles’ smug expression. 

The ride to the Munson house is uncharacteristically quiet. The initial shock from Charles introducing you as Logan's wife subsides, leaving him lost in thought by the idea of being seen as a family. No one speaks another word, figuring that he deserves a break from Charles and you rambling on about stories to entertain Laura. Watching him angrily clutch the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white seems to be enough of an incentive to not pile on to his already shitty day.

Logan slams the door as he gets out the car, clearly agitated by the detour on their way to North Dakota. No matter how wonderful a home-cooked meal sounds, he knows they’re just wasting time by lingering. But once he sees the desperate look on the three of your faces - particularly, yours, he relents, hoping trouble would spare them for a night.

The seven of you gather at the dinner table, Logan steals a quick glance at you while Nate says grace. Laura digs in immediately, picking the food apart with her fingers and stuffing it in her mouth. Logan clears his throat and gives her a pointed look, she flicks her eyes towards you and you give her an encouraging smile. 

“Where're you heading?” Mr Munson asks, looking between Logan and you.

“Oregon-”

“South Dakota-”

The two of you blurt at the same time, the Munsons pause in confusion. Your eyes widen at the sudden turn of events, a flash of panic settles on Logan’s expression before Charles intervenes.

“Oregon, then South Dakota” he says, smiling as if nothing’s wrong.

Mrs Munson inquires him further, going off into a tangent about traveling. Logan leans back, watching Charles animatedly lie about some "vacation" plans. He stops himself from scoffing, meeting your gaze across the table. 

“James?” Mrs Munson's voice snaps him from his thoughts. He looks at her blankly having missed the first part of her question.

“It’s been 8 years,” You interject, nudging his foot underneath the table, silently warning him to pay attention. “We’ve been together for 8 years.”

Logan’s eyebrows twitch at your lie. He wishes you were together, that you would want him like that. Whatever hopes he had for a relationship with you shattered the moment reality set in his mind. You don't deserve someone like him, a broken old man who's struggling to keep himself going everyday. No. He wouldn't subject anyone, much less you, to an ill-fated man like him.

“Wow! That’s almost as long as our marriage,” Mrs Munson smiles at her husband, “You have any plans of proposing, James?” Her eyebrows are raised, it’s clear she noticed the lack of a ring on you.

“Kathryn.” Mr Munson chastises.

“What? It’s a natural thing to ask!”

Logan shifts in his seat, uncomfortable by the expectant eyes on him. He directs a tight smile at Kathryn, slowly nodding his head.

“Uh yeah… just waitin’ for right time.” He says with a tone of finality, hoping she’ll drop the subject. She doesn’t.

“8 years certainly is a long while, don’t keep her wondering too long.” She winks at you.

Logan gives her a fake laugh, noting the subtle redness on your cheeks. 

“Oh! You two are adorable!” She exclaims, catching the flitting glances. “Tell me, how did you know she was the one?”

Logan takes a swig of his beer, Charles chuckles next to him and he uses all his willpower to not knock the stupid look off his face. He swallows the nervous feeling in his throat, resisting your intense gaze.

It had been hours, or something like that, since you left his side. Once you saw Storm's concerned expression, you immediately shot out of your seat, running to the medical wing of the mansion. Something must have happen to him on the mission.

Charles had sensed your distress as you made your way to the starkly-lit room. You always hated the medical wing, knowing there's no good reason why any of you would need to be here. The moment you saw Logan on the bed, you knew he had suffered enough to be unconscious. Charles kept reassuring you that he'd be alright in due time, that you just need wait for the regeneration power to kick in.

Storm kept checking on you every few hours, making sure you were taking care of yourself while you sat near Logan. She knew the both of you harboured feelings for each other in a way that was obvious to everyone except you two. She'd noted how Logan would always look for you anytime he entered a room, always made sure your favourite snacks were stocked up since the kids kept raiding the shelves, always made sure your gear was extra secure when you had to go on missions. Scott had caught on too but she secretly threatened him when he was about to tease Logan.

When Logan finally opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming, shocked by the sight of you caring waiting for him. At that point, you had only known each other for less than a year, familiar enough to be considered friends. He didn't want to push you with flirty advances and realise you didn't reciprocate his feelings. That would've crushed him, so he settled with friendship and tried his hardest to bury his emotions around you.

His heart almost gave out when you smiled realising he was awake and he was going to be okay. And for a second, just a little second, a flicker of hope crossed his mind. But it went away when he saw Charles with the same expression. Of course, you were only there because you were worried about your friend. Nothing more.

Storm had advised him to rest for a couple days while his body recovered on its own. Pain was nothing but a sensation for him, after decades of going through utter destruction and slaughter, this was something he could drain out with minimal effort. You didn't leave his side at all. Even after he'd soothed your anxieties about his open wounds. But your response to that kept him up for days afterwards, 'I don't care if it's a paper cut or stubbing your toe somewhere, I don't like seeing people hurt. Especially you. I'm not leaving and I will be here for as long as it takes.'

It was that moment when all the chains restraining his desires let loose. His heart swelled with affection and he recognised that unmistakable emotion. Love. That stupid bastard. But he knew better than to taint your life with his scarred history.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from Logan as he finishes the story, keeping his focus on the plate in front of him, hating how silent the room became. Of course, he changed a few of the details to maintain the charade of being ordinary people, but the memory, itself, is something that often revolves in his mind.

Kathryn coos over his words, blown away by the sweet response. Satisfied, she turns her attention to Charles, excitedly asking about his time as a professor.

Logan avoids looking your reaction, even Laura seems taken by the memory - a tiny glimpse into their past. He coughs, ignoring the stabbing pain near his stomach. God, he hopes you won't call him out on this later. He doesn't know if he can keep this to himself any longer, especially since Kathryn had been commenting on your supposed "relationship" with each other.

The Munsons stand up to clear the table, Logan thanks them for the meal and nods his head at Charles, Laura and you, a signal to leave. Kathryn shoots down his intention of driving to a motel and insists on staying the night. Logan sees you stand up, trying to help his cause, but Charles declares you’ll leave the following morning - much to Logan’s annoyance. Your eyes follow Logan as he carries Charles upstairs, Laura right on his tail. Kathryn gives you a teasing glance snapping you out of your daze and you help her with the dishes.

Once Logan returns to the kitchen, Kathryn leads the two of you to the living room, “Here’s the couch, I'm sorry we don't have anything better.” The two of you thank her and she bids you good night, leaving Logan and you alone.

He groans, noting how the couch is hardly enough to support two people, much less someone as big as him. He certainly doesn't want to intrude on your personal space and wind up accidentally cuddling because of his subconscious impulses. Nope. That would definitely push you away.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“What’d you think?” He retorts, sinking into the armchair that barely fits him.

“Don’t be an idiot, your injuries are already bad, sleeping on that chair won’t do you any good.”

You stare at him across the dark room, when he makes no attempt to stand up, you sigh and lay back on the couch, turning away from him. A minute passes when you feel the cushion dip next to you, you don’t need to turn around to see the frustrated expression on his face.

The two of you lay down, backs towards each other. The only thing you can hear is the clock ticking in the next room. What Logan had said over dinner replays in your mind. You had been secretly pining over him for years and never showed your intentions, fearing rejection. So why do you suddenly have the urge to reveal your feelings?

“Did you mean it?” Your words pierce the silence and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even awake.

Of course I did. The answer leaves his mind as fast as it came. No one, over the last 8 years, ever came close to him as you did. But, he can’t tell you that, can he? Why would he want to put you through all the trouble that comes with him and his sorry life?

“Had to give ‘em something.” He mumbles, feeling his chest getting heavier.

“Oh. Yeah.. that was uh… I believed it.”

He hears you turn towards him and shuts his eyes, controlling the emotions bubbling inside him.

If only you knew.

PART TWO

[wynnyfryd]

the kind of charm we need

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt ‘charm’ + 548 words | rated T | pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, boys being dumb

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

“‘Not the kind of charm we need,’” Steve mutters derisively to himself for the tenth time that day as they pull up to the cemetery curb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin sighs, “your time and talents are sooo wasted on us, Steve, we get it.”

Max glares at him from the rearview like she agrees with Dustin, then shoves out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind her without a word.

Shit.

Steve watches her climb the hill, guilt rolling through his guts. Fuckin’ Nancy. There are bigger problems here.

Like, for example, the metalhead fugitive having a nervous breakdown in a boathouse.

“Oh, my god,” Lucas says from the backseat as the walkie crackles to life, Eddie’s quivering voice calling out for ‘Dustin? Anybody? Hello??’

He passes the walkie up to the front with a look like he’s debating whether or not to just smash the thing to pieces on the asphalt instead. “Can you maybe use your charm on Eddie before I murder him?”

“He’s in distress!” Dustin cries.

“He’s on my last nerve!”

“Seriously, anybody?? Please!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, give me that.” Steve yanks the walkie out of Lucas’ hand, hauls himself out of the car — leans in to tell the two shitheads to stay put and shut up before he closes the door.

He leans against the driver’s side, head throbbing, body sore. Can’t tell if he’s too young or too old for this shit. He pushes the talk button with a begrudgingly slow press.

“Steve Harrington’s babysitting and distraction service, how may I help you? Over.”

“Stevie!” Eddie whoops, sounding genuinely thrilled to hear Steve’s voice. Steve knows he’s just excited to hear anyone’s voice, but. Hm. “Goddamn am I glad to- wait, where’s Henderson? Sinclair? Are they—?”

“They’re fine,” Steve assures before the creep of hysteria he hears can fully take hold. He kicks his heel against the front tire. “They’re waiting in the car. I’ve been instructed to, like, charm you into calming down, or whatever.”

“Charm me?” Eddie’s voice lilts with interest. Steve can almost see the smile, the way he licks across his front teeth.

“Just a— well, not a joke, but, like…” Steve trails off, gives up trying to explain. Nance has this way of making comments that cling like cactus spines. “Never mind.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “Go on. I’m ready to be charmed.”

And maybe it’s the way Eddie says charmed like a snake scenting the air, or maybe it’s the stress of the day; maybe he’s finally having his own little mental breakdown as a treat, because for some insane reason he leans into whatever this is, pitches his voice all low and slippery and asks, “What are you wearing?”

Silence for a moment, and then Eddie cackles, the noise so loud it overwhelms the little speaker in the walkie, bursts of laughter breaking through the static noise. Steve finds himself laughing, too, a slow thing that builds and builds, swells inside him like blown glass until he’s warm and bright all over.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes when he finally calms. “You’re— you’re ridiculous. Shit, man, I really needed that, you have no idea.”

Steve smiles to himself. Bites the inside of his cheek. Not the kind of charm we need.

No, but someone might.

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note: i am aware that this is canon adjacent (which is to say that i meant for it to take place in canon but i didn’t feel like rewatching the scene for total accuracy so like, canon can bite me it’s close enough)

[cherrygukkie]

Late Night Encounters| jjk

Summary: A student-athlete like you, who flies under the radar, never expected to become enemies with someone like Jeon Jungkook, an annoying talkative senior who goes out of his way to make your life a living hell. But what happens when your rivalry takes some twists and turns, and your hate turns into something else? Will getting too close to Jungkook reveal a side of him that you’ve never seen before?

Word Count: 5,2k

AN: Hey folks! This is something I came up with in the middle of the night, so I hope that you all enjoy this as much as I am currently planning all of this out! :) But yeah, I don't have anything else to say, but to enjoy this first snippet of Jk and OC's relationship. Love yah mwahh!!

Props to @dollfaceksj for beta-reading thank you <3

READ: (Pls comment and give feedback it's all welcomed. It'll help me stay motivated.)

Lmk if there are any errors please and thank you.

••••••••

Thursday, 7:03 a.m.

It’s early in the morning, and you know what that means…. School time!!!

Yay… school.

You’re currently at school, exhausted. That wasn’t out of the ordinary though. No matter how much sleep your body gets you still end up tired. At this point, you've accepted the fact that you’re a sleepy girl.

Putting on your beats, you turn the music volume to the max. Hopefully, music can give you a little energy and help you get through the day because you need it.

Surprisingly Yoongi or Taehyung weren't at school around this time. Usually, the three of you arrived at the same time, if something came up you’d receive a message from either one of them. They didn’t tell you yesterday or text you, so you check their location.

When you do it shows that they are on the road, moving in the same area. 

They were driving somewhere…

The direction they are going is further away from the school. You being curious, you took it upon yourself to see what’s up with them.

Letting out a yawn, you call Yoongi, and not even a second later, he declines.

What the fuck?

You decide to shoot Taehyung a message since they’re together and he responds…

You: um why aren’t you or Yoongi at school?

You: I see that you guys are driving and I feel left out.

Taehyung : Sorry Y/N. I was supposed to tell you, but It slipped my mind.

Yeah, just like how my foot is gonna slip up both their asses.

Taehyung: We got caught up in some last-minute shit.

•okay, but my question is still unanswered.

You: where are you guys going though???

Read.

Taehyung left you on read along with him being secretive about his location… that’s unusual and weird.

Extremely weird…

“Such shitheads for ditching me,” you mutter, shoving your phone in your pocket. Great… Now today is going to be the definition of boring without dumber and dumbest.

You open your locker, replacing your books with your skateboard. The bell is going to ring shortly, so you start walking to class. You slam your locker shut, striding down the halls with the volume of your headphones sounding out everything and everyone, just how you liked it.

Your face was frowned up until ETA by NewJeans came on. A smile creeps onto the corner of your mouth as angelic voices enter your ears and a flicker of amusement manages to lighten your mood.

“what’s your ETA!” “what’s your ETA!”

Just when your grumpy spirit is starting to lift, someone swoops in from the right, snatching your headphones off your ears. The music is gone and the little smile you grew shattered into a million pieces.

You freeze, taken back by his audacity. “You did not… just take my headphones.” 

You turn around to see the one and only, Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who surprisingly wasn’t wearing his usual Calvin Klein attire. Instead, he had on a pair of distressed jeans with a soft blue zip-up jacket.

The way he has his jacket off his shoulder is so baby girl of him

Jungkook smirks, holding the headphones out of reach. “New Jeans? Really?” He could hear even while they were hanging above your head. That’s how loud the music was.

“Give it back!” you demand, through a big jump to retrieve your headphones. Each time you jumped, his hand went higher and higher. Jungkook enjoyed watching you struggle, especially if it’s because of him.

“You don’t seem like the type to listen to New Jeans,” he says, ignoring the fact that he’s holding your property. “They’re so uplifting and joyful… and you-” Jungkook pauses, eyeing you down. You could sense the insult coming.

You talk over him, not letting him finish. “Why are you doing this?”

It’s too early to play his stupid games. He couldn’t wait until Chemistry class? 

“Just doing my daily dose of annoying you.” He clicks his tongue, dangling the headphones with his index finger. 

“Well, congratulations, Jungkook. You’ve succeeded once again. Now give me back my headphones and leave me alone,” you demand again, reaching up only for him to hold them higher.

At this damn point, your arms are moving in the air desperately like a lunatic. This is taking place in the middle of the halls… in front of people. 

How fucking embarrassing is that?

ugh, I hope that people don’t think I’m a pushover now…

You raise your voice, walking up to Jungkook. “Give me my shit back!” 

The anger in your voice draws attention in the halls. Right after you speak, multiple eyes burn into your soul. You look around and people are staring at the both of you with concerned faces. Part of you wanted to tell them to mind their shit and keep it pushing, but you take a breath, taking a chill pill.

 “Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, bringing your hands together. “Can I have my beats back? They’re too expensive to be played around with.” You swallow all the bass in your tone.

“What’s the magic word?” Jungkook teases, exposing the dimple on his right cheek. Beasty, huh? you've never understood why he gave you such a nickname in the first place. Assuming it was an insult, you always ignored it.

Today wasn’t the day for his stupid games, he for sure wasn’t getting a please out of you.

You blink constantly, accepting your defeat. “You know what… I’m not doing this shit today. You can keep them, you jerk.” Walking away from Jungkook, you try to speed walk to class in need to get away from him. You’re already dealing with limbs that could barely function and heavy eyelids, you aren't in the mood to play.

Searching for peace didn't last how you wanted. Jungkook catches up with you, refusing to leave you alone. 

"Careful there or you'll drop your books."

You look over at Jungkook who was keeping up with your speed. “I hate you.”

A little laugh sneaks past his lips before speaking, “No, you don’t.”

He had the presence of a fly, no matter how much you shoo him away he always finds his way back.

Why do you despise him with a passion?

Why is Jeon Jungkook your nemesis?

The reason behind it is a story. It started when you ran into him on a chaotic evening at the worst moment possible, just when you thought the hole you were in couldn't get any deeper...it did.

*Flashback!*

4 months ago...

Friday evening, 7:37 p.m.

Stuck in the middle of traffic, you’re repeatedly hitting crazy turns, left, right, left, left, right, right, nonstop. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for missing the bus and being an irresponsible dumbass.

Yeah, it's true...you were late to a game. It's not all your fault, though. To be fair it was a last-minute one that the coach signed everyone up for. Earlier today, you had to stay after school to figure out some arrangements with your teachers for your grades. It was either that or nothing because bad grades equal no volleyball.

All work was uncompleted, besides Mrs. Parker's class. That was your favorite class and you had an A+, so you didn't have to visit her. You had to visit everyone else and it didn’t go as planned. Besides giving you an extension on the work, you were assigned a tutor for the next 2 months.

Your schedule was dedicated to volleyball, therefore you had no free days unless it was the weekend, and as much as you didn't want to sacrifice it, you had to.

Girl, your grades were crying.

You need to maintain them to keep volleyball in your life. Today was Saturday and you decided to start. It wasn't a problem because you had no plans at all… well that’s what you thought. 

You put your phone on do not disturb, just to concentrate, not to ignore anybody.

You just needed your mind to be fixated on school for once, not a ball, not a net, or a gym.

🏐🥊

During those long hours of catching up and studying you weren't aware of the messages in your group chat. You packed up all your things and you went directly to your messages to see 100+ texts from the group chat.

You open it thinking it's about the next practice or probably not expecting a message like this.

Coach [: "I'm sorry to spring this on you girls on such short notice, but I received an email from a coach from another district about playing against his team because apparently, the other team forfeited before the game.

Coach [: I agreed to it thinking maybe you girls could use the extra practice, you know? explore other teams and their ways of playing."

Coach [: "The school is far, so I recommend you gear up and be at the gym by school at 6:20 because the drive is longer than 30 minutes and we all need to ride the bus together, as a team."

Coach [: "There's no reason why any of you should be late because I'm texting you a couple of hours before, so please be on time okay you all know how I am about tardiness."

The more we are late the more we condition....

Coach [: "Okay, but that's all. I'll see you all in a bit, be ready!"

You take your phone off Do not disturb, then you exit the building, phone, and bag in hand checking your missed calls,

Reading that you had numerous missed calls from the coach, you call her and she answers immediately. The phone barely got through the first ring. You opened your mouth to speak, but her lecture overpowered you. "Y/N where the hell are you? the game is about to start!"

You're so stuck you couldn't give a proper answer so all you say is, "Huh?" the confusion in your response made her angrier.

"You are late Y/N! You were supposed to be on the bus an hour ago!"

Coach sent that message at 3:36 and when you checked the time it was 7:15 p.m. It was like glass shattering when your heart sank realizing you lost track of time. Your phone shook in your trembling hands, too stunned to speak.

It's been that long?!?

She tells you that the game has already started and that you need to be on your way now, especially with you being one of the main players you were needed no matter what, or the rotation would be switched.

It was still the beginning of the season, so people were only familiar with their positions. Having rotations changed and adjusted to something last minute during a game is a total mess. A rule in volleyball is if you were out of rotation they deduct points, and that was unacceptable.

"C-coach, I'm sorry-" you tried to sound sincere with a pounding heart and unsteady voice. "I'll get there as fast as possible." She ends the conversation by hanging up the phone.

Well goddamn.

Then and there you knew you were "Fucked." you muffled, in your hand. "I am so fucked...."

You start running as fast as you can and thankfully the dorms aren't too far from the school, so you arrive shortly. You swung the door open and rushed to your room not greeting your roommate, but that didn't matter.

She wasn't the nicest...

When you get in your room you start tossing things everywhere trying to find your jersey. That's what you get for misplacing important shit, that's what your mom would tell you after you'd lost something and it played in your mind on a loop.

At some point, you found everything and shoved it in your bag racing out the door to the parking lot. And there you are speeding recklessly in your car, slamming your fist on the horn honking at cars, cutting them off doing all you can to escape from this major traffic jam.

You weave through traffic pressing on the gas pedal, “Come the fuck on…” you yell, feeling your frustration build up. “Can these cars go any slower?!? I’m almost there!”

Why does everything go wrong on inconvenient days…?

Finally, you arrive at the stadium, and you pull into the parking lot and your eyes dart immediately to a good spot in between two cars surprisingly in front of the entrance. There were a shit ton of people here...

You turn the wheel parking your car thinking none of it, then suddenly there is this noise you heard. In the mise of hearing that sound, your whole car jolted back from the impact, even though it was the slightest tap.

Leaning forward a bit, you see the space you have in front of you and your jaw drops in disbelief. "Please no...." This could not be happening right now.... you're already in trouble for being an hour late and now you have to deal with this.

To fix your parking, you back out and properly pull in between the two cars. After, you take a moment to close your eyes and cross your fingers hoping that the damage wasn't too severe. Your pockets had flies coming out of them…. you couldn't afford to fix a damn car.

Let's pray that there was nothing there and you could move on with life, peacefully. You got out of the car to check yours first. It was in perfect condition and not a single mark was on it, maybe that was a sign of something good.

You rushed to the back of the black car to confirm that the crunching noise you heard was in fact the bumper that was dented up, terribly. The back of the vehicle even had scratches and the black paint was scraped off.

It was bad...

"Oh my god..." you mouthed nervously. The car did look fancy and highly expensive. It didn't take long for you to realize that the car you hit was a Mercedes-Benz, but not only that it was the newest version. "You've got to be fucking kidding me...." you screamed, burying your face in your palms.

How the hell were you going to pay for the damages on this car, a damn Mercedes?!? To be fair, you weren't poor, you just didn't have money like that, or you didn't have any on you. And bothering your parents with this rough situation was the last you wanted to do. They were already helping you pay for volleyball camp, so there was no need to shake them for more money.

Your hands found their way to your head gripping your hair, stressfully. "Ugh, I should've been on the damn bus!" you yell again, feeling stupid. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for the rookie mistake.

Too busy pacing back and forth and complaining you didn't notice that there wasn't a single soul in the car. By now someone would've come out to give you shit for hitting their vehicle.

You instantly got an idea.

And that idea was to walk away and pretend nothing happened.

Why not? nobody was outside, nobody saw you and nobody was inside the car meaning there's no proof of you hitting their car attempting to park.

That intense feeling wore off and your body relaxed a little. You look both ways before crossing the street.

Thank god, you didn't have to deal with a rich bitch or asshole who'd exaggerate the problem like the car was their child and make you pay more than you have to. You sigh, walking away, ready to enter the school and deal with the coach because that was next on the checklist.

You stuff your hands in your pockets, making your way towards the entrance, until you hear something. That something was the sound of a car door getting slammed violently.

"What the hell? are you fucking kidding me?!?" the mysterious man shouted. He sounded upset—a more fitting word, enraged. "Hey, you! black sweatshirt."

Yep, that was you. A girl in a black sweatshirt who was trying to ditch the situation.

"Hm?" you slowly turned around as if you were innocent.

Your guilty eyes met his deep brown cold ones. He looked very pissed right now. "Hm?" the mysterious boy mocked your act. "You fucked up my shit!" he pointed to the poor bumper.

You nibble on your lip, caught up and no he wasn't wrong that's exactly what you were going to do.

"What?” You fix your thick frames. "Dude, what are you talking about? I didn't fuck up anything. I was only walking out here getting fresh air, that's all..."

"Oh really?" He took a step closer moving under the moon. It was easier to make out the details. Soft dark curly long hair, muscular figure, piercings, tattoos.... a dangerous combination a guy could have.

Damn.

He wore a Calvin Klein denim jacket with a matching shirt and bold thick platformed boots. He looked like your typical bad boy or fuck boy, you choose. You’d never seen him before, ever.

You reacted, backing away from his unnecessary step. "Yes?"

"You are lying and you fucking suck at it.”

You tried flipping the script. “That’s what you think.”

“It’s what I know and now you’re starting to piss me off.”

"Okay, shit!" Your arms slap your sides, defeated. "I hit your car, okay? But it was a mistake. I was rushing to get to my game and I was going to leave because I needed to avoid this. After all, I'm already late and my coach is upset with me." Listening to you, his eyes were rolled to the back of his head, tired of hearing your sob story. "It was seriously an accident, I misjudged the distance between the cars," you continued. "I'm fucking sorry, okay?"

He was able to see that you were going through a tough time, but did he care? Hell no. He wasn't having any of that. For fucks sake, you hit his car and that's all he cared about, not some girl who's using being late as an excuse to recklessly drive.

“Do you know how much it’s going to cost me to get fixed?”

"No, I don't, but I do know that it's going to be pricey and trust me if I had the money I would pay for the expenses, but I don't have much money right now..."

"Oh, great. Miss careless driver not only hits my car, but she can't afford to fix it. Just what I fucking needed today."

You continued to apologize and reason with him, but he cut you off. "You expect me to accept your apology? That doesn't change the fact you hit my car. I could care less about a fucking apology right now.”

Now... it was bothering you a little. Despite the situation, this guy was being a dickhead.

Did you hit his car? Yes, you did and he has every right to be angry, but there should be some way that this can be resolved respectfully without being an asshole. And that's what he was doing, he's raising his voice, expecting you to stand there like a fool.

He had no idea who he was talking to. You frowned, no longer feeling ashamed or apologetic for hitting his car.

"No, it isn't but I'm sure that if you can afford a Mercedes then I'm sure you have the money to fix the damn bumper yourself," you argued.

"You're right," he chuckled, rubbing his forehead. "I can afford to get it fixed. I don't know why I thought that someone...." His voice trailed off as he faced your car. ".... someone who drives a 2010 Ford Taurus could even pay for a single scratch on my car."

broke bitch alert!!!

He turned around, lifting his brows, waiting for a response from you. The disrespect was too real and you blurted out an aggressive, “Fuck you.”

He was seriously calling you broke…

“And fuck you for hitting my car.” The guy got closer, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were familiar somehow. “You...” His voice trailed off from looking at your sweatshirt.

He got distracted from the words on it. It had your team and university labeled on it.

“You don’t even go to this school, do you?” he asks.

The mysterious boy’s question threw you off. Your eyes darted everywhere before talking. "No...?" you replied lost. "Why the hell does it even matter?"

“I knew you seemed familiar.” He nodded, getting struck by a moment of realization. "You're that one volleyball player who plays at ____ university?" He asked, reading your shirt. "And you're Y/N, right?"

“Yeah, why?”

"You know what-" he smacked his lips. "I'll let this slide this time one time.” You wanted to say thanks, too bad part of you was still heated from the argument, but how did he know your name?

You watched him walk to his car, and then he opened the door. “Just stay the hell out of my way, got it?"

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

"More than happy too,” you shout.

Once he got into his car, you turned around and ran inside the school. heading straight to the gym. You saw your team on the court, playing hard in an intense rally as you walked in. There was a shit ton of people cheering, yelling and screaming.

The noise was a mixture of good and bad…

You glanced at the score and thankfully, it was a tie. Coach gave you a deadpan as you walked towards her with guilt. Like you were expecting, she scolded you or whatever, and then she called a time-out.

All the girls left the court to get water and catch their breaths. Coach like usual, went over everyone's positions and dos and don'ts. While she did so, you slid out of your hoodie and sweatpants, revealing your jersey and shorts under.

You were prepared.

You scanned the crowds on your school's side and damn near everyone showed up to support the team. Some classmates waved at you and of course, you returned the kind gesture, glad to see them here to support the team.

Then randomly out of nowhere, you saw the same guy enter the gymnasium. He walks up a few flights of bleachers to sit with Jimin, Seokjin, and some other guy you don't know.

You assumed they were his friends.

When he's done greeting them... his attention landed on you, only you. It was weird after that interaction you had with him.

Looking away from him, you tried to regain your focus on the girls and coach.

"You all are doing great; except I need you all to make it harder for them. Let's stop fooling around and get in the lead and let it stay that way. Now that Y/N is here there's no more confusion now, the lineup is back to normal. Everyone with me?" Coach looked at everyone and they responded with nodding heads or a yes ma'am.

"Go out there and make them work, make them sweat."

The girls, including you, did your signature hand-stack a second after the buzzer went off. Girls that were benched sat down and girls that were on the court returned to the floor.

You simply do you and you get on the court to do what you're best at.

Play volleyball.

Things went back to normal, everyone played their hearts out, and in the end. You won the game.

But throughout the process, you couldn't help but notice his stares during the whole game. Anytime you'd look in his direction his focus was already on you.

The more you looked at him the more you remembered his identity. Now him knowing your name made sense because he attends your school along with him being in your 5th period.

Chemistry.

His name is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook. He was a new exchange student from Seoul, but you couldn’t remember his major, although you did remember that he’s in a relationship with a girl named Alex who was well known at your school. Which is also how Jungkook was known in the first place.

It’s surprising because you hardly recognized him due to your head being on such a swivel.

It’s crazy that you've never even crossed paths before.

Ever since your first impression of Jungkook, the universe did its thing where he appeared everywhere now and you couldn’t escape him…

For some odd reason, he stood out even more because every day he went out of his way to bother you and piss you off, constantly. You haven't liked him since then and now you don't like him even more and couldn’t avoid him.

He didn't keep his word when you ran into him and he told you this exactly: "Stay the hell out of my way."

You’ve been stuck with this idiot ever since then.

*Present*

“Should I have taken your glasses instead?” he jokes, knowing damn well you are practically blind. You could see, but not too well.

You bark, “Why are you bothering me?”

“You should’ve never hit my car,” he says, words rolling off his tongue with a shrug.

“Oh, fuck off,” you aggressively tell him, wishing he’d disappear like dust into the air. 

How long was he going to hold you accountable for that? It’s been months.

“I’ll fuck off when you tell me what’s up with you. You seem more feisty than usual….” You immediately stop walking to glare at Jungkook who places his finger on his chin.  “Did one of your little boyfriends piss you off?”

He’s referring to Taehyung and Yoongi…

 “Wow… your detective skills are impressive,” you sarcastically praise him, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Is that all you got?”

Jungkook strokes his chin. “Am I right?”

“Those aren’t my boyfriends and you are wrong, but why do you even care about what’s going on with me?”

“I don't, I'm just curious,” He replies, sounding interested in the reason for your attitude. “And you look like shit and it’s not because of me… so I want to know.”

“Yeah, and I feel like it too,” You admit, feeling the sleepiness weigh you down. “Like always…” an exhausted sigh leaves your lips.

“Why?” he asks, headphones still in his possession.

Jungkook's questions make you rub your temples. “I’m exhausted and later today I’m gonna be busy. I have to attend the sports event. You know where all athletes are required to go?”

“I’m familiar.” Jungkook places the headphones around his neck. “They announced the dumb thing yesterday.”

“It’s not dumb, Jungkook,” you declare, folding your arms, giving him a deadpan. “It's an important and great opportunity for all college athletes. It only happens once a year.”

The sports event in the evening that you are attending is an event for all athletes. It allows students to meet other teams including school teams, professional teams and club teams.

It’s a chance to ask professional coaches and players for advice for future reference. Sometimes, people who are that good get recruited to play on a team outside of school with the professionals.

That happens to maybe a couple of students out of the multitude of schools put together. Being chosen is such an amazing opportunity, you get to be on national television, by any chance make history, and get paid tons and other good things, but you weren’t banking on it this year.  The odds of you getting scouted out were more than average, however, there are still things you’re insecure about when it comes to playing.

If anything, you need to secure those first before putting yourself out there, on national television.

“Beasty…” he says as if he had a question.

“Yes...?” you lazily nod slowly, watching his tongue glide over his teeth while smirking. 

He better not ask to be my additional person

Was he going to ask you if he could be your extra guest this evening? You’re currently figuring out who’s that going to be, but it damn sure wasn’t going to him.

“Will-”

You squint your eyes, hoping this isn’t leading to a proposal. “Wait… you aren’t suggesting that I should take you-”

 “No, I’m already going,” he claims, shaking his head. “And I have my date for this evening. I was just wondering about yours.”

Date, hm?

“So, who is it?” he asks, intrigued. 

It's purely silent for a moment, but you think of something quickly to save yourself from the embarrassment-

You quickly speak up. "I have a date,” you throw in proudly, ignoring how big of a lie that is. 

All you care about is covering your ass at the moment, not the backlash.

you’re such a fucking liar.

"Right, so who is it?"

You dodge his question. “Who's your date, Jungkook?” you ponder, pretending that your curiosity isn’t bouncing off the walls. You could feel it in your bones.

Jungkook isn't an athlete for the school, so that means the person he will be attending the event with is someone who goes to this school or someone else.

His face twitches with amusement. Seeing you in his business is a sight for him. “A very good friend of mine…”

“Is she on my team?” 

“I can assure you she isn’t.” Jungkook cackles before confirming, “Volleyball players aren’t my type.”

Then what is?

•that’s a relief

“She goes to another school anyway. I can guarantee that you don’t know her.” Jungkook watches your eyes drop from his face to his neck, then grips the headphones firmly.

“Enough about mine,” he says as he changes the subject unexpectedly. “Who’s your…” A smile plastered on his face. “Date. And don't answer my question with another question."

Hm, who is your date??

"It's a secret," you whisper, motioning sealed lips. "I'll reveal mine once I see yours.”

He gives a subtle shrug. "Fair enough," Jungkook says, nodding his head, acknowledging your agreement.

*Bell rings!* 

“Oh, won’t you look at that?” Placing your hands on your hips, you point out, “It's time to go class…so-” you stare at the headphones again. “Are you going to hand them over or what?” 

Jungkook looks down at your hand and laughs when you extend it out. “Should I?” He calmly asks, pushing your buttons. You start to tap your foot impatiently, exaggerating your irritation.

He thinks to himself for a moment, before his eyes drop to the beats around his neck, then shortly locks eyes with your frustrated ones. “Actually… I want to hang onto these for a little while. These will come in handy during my workout.”

“Fine! Keep them,” you express with a dramatic slap to the side of your thighs. “But don’t think that I won’t get them back.”

As the warning bell rings, you shoot him a withering glare and without wasting a single second, you storm off to class with only one particular thing on your mind… and it wasn’t the headphones…

Who is Jungkook's date?

To be continued…

♡︎Taglist is here, lovelies

[bruisedboys]

clingy eddie? it’s not an established relationship and you just spent the whole day together when eddie blurts out "spend the night with me"

or or maybe a flirtatious and confident eddie like "i know you want me as much as i want you"

summer lovin’ — eddie munson

hi anon! I went with the second one and got totally invested, and it ended up being way longer than I expected lolzies … anyway tysm for the ask ily <3

summary: eddie munson is a menace to your heart — a pool party at steve’s brings all the feelings to the surface.

fluff, mutual pining, flirty eddie. gn!reader, 2k words

gif by @kwistowee

You’d barely made it up Steve’s driveway before the kids were piling out of the car, shoving each other like a pack of animals to get out first.

“Alright, calm down, you lot.” Every single one of them ignored you, doors slamming and flip-flops hitting the pavement as they all clambered out, chatting loudly. You sighed. “Not even a ‘thanks for the ride, Y/N?’”

Your efforts went unnoticed as they all traipsed up to Steve’s door and disappeared inside. You were left alone with Eddie in the passenger seat, chuckling at your wasted attempts.

“I don’t think they can hear you, Y/N,” he said unhelpfully.

“You’re no better,” you told him, irritated.

Rolling your eyes, you got out of the car without a word. The sun seemed set out to get you today, its heat like fire on your skin. You’d barely made it two steps up the driveway before Eddie was on your heels.

“Sweetheart, don’t be mad,” he drawled, his voice sticky like the sweat clinging to both your bodies. “I’m sorry.”

His hand landed on your elbow and your skin felt hotter than it already was.

You ignored him for the sake of your dignity. If you looked at him right now, he’d be giving you that tantalising look that was quickly becoming your weakness. Bright eyes with the lids lowered, plush lips pushed into a subtle pout. Plus, he was wearing his t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, the one you hated because of how it made him look. You’d be a melting puddle in seconds.

Eddie was your friend. The fact that you’d kiss him if he asked was beyond the point.

“Whatever, Eds,” you said, pushing past him and through the Harrington’s front door.

Eddie was close on your tail as you crossed through the kitchen and to the back ranch-slider, emerging into Steve’s promised pool party. It was in full swing — Tears For Fears was blasting from somewhere and Dustin was already being playfully pushed into the pool by a giggling Max.

“Y/N!” This was Steve, reclined on one of the deck chairs with a Coca Cola can in hand. “Was wondering when you were coming in. None of these shitheads even said hi to me.”

You smiled. Aware of Eddie right behind you, you crossed the deck to Steve, bent at the waist and kissed his freckled cheek.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Steve,” you told him happily. “Even if it’s only us and a bunch of twelve-year-olds.”

“Fourteen!” Lucas and Max yelled in unison, equally annoyed.

You giggled and took the seat next to Steve’s. Meanwhile Eddie was glaring bullets at the both of you. Why did Steve get a kiss on the cheek? My hair is cooler than his, Eddie thought.

Eddie made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a grunt — it went unnoticed by everyone but you. Your head whipped around but he was already walking away from you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away as Eddie strolled over to the cooler, dug his hand in and pulled a soda can from the ice. His rings were sparkling with condensation as he popped the can open, raised it to his lips and took a sip. His bicep glistened with sweat and you could see the veins on his wrist from here. You watched his Adams Apple bob up and down three times before he dropped his arm with a satisfied sigh.

Much too late, you looked away. Your face was burning. You pretended you didn’t see Eddie walking closer out of the corner of your eye.

His voice met your ears, smooth and velvety. “Did you want some, sweetheart?”

You chanced a look at Eddie, stomach backflipping. Eddie’s smirk widened because you looked so guilty, your eyes like a puppy’s and your cheeks flushed something awful. He was holding his drink out to you, condensation from the can dripping over his fingers.

“No thanks,” you said as nonchalantly as you could.

You shut up after that, afraid if you opened your mouth again you’d confess all your well-hidden secrets. Maybe ‘well-hidden’ wasn’t the right term, not when Eddie was smirking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Eddie shrugged, downed the rest of the Coke in one and strolled to the edge of the pool, sitting down so his legs dangled in the water. You rolled your eyes though he couldn’t see you, falling back into your chair with a sigh.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve was looking at you weird under his sunglasses. “Are you and Munson arguing or something?”

You shook your head too fast and then hoped Steve hadn’t noticed. “No, no. I mean— yes, I’m fine. He’s just … “ You shrugged. “Well, you know us, always on each other’s backs.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully and gave you a look you didn’t quite understand. A moment later both of you were distracted by water sprinkling over your legs and a loud yell from Eddie.

“Oh, come on, Henderson!”

You looked up. Dustin, chest-deep in the pool, was holding an empty bucket and laughing hysterically, while Eddie was soaking wet and fuming. The mass of water had hit him full blast, only catching you and Steve on the legs.

“What was that for, man?” Eddie yelled.

You watched in amusement as Eddie stood up, still yelling profanities at Dustin, his clothes sopping wet. Your amusement quickly turned into horror when Eddie grabbed the bottom of his shirt and yanked it off with one pull. Your position left you with a perfect view of his tattooed back, wet hair falling over his shoulder and back muscles, his skin pale beneath the dark ink that decorated his torso and arms. The butterflies in your stomach at the mere sight of him were antagonising.

“Bastard,” Eddie said, and he dived into the pool towards a chortling Dustin.

You wanted to throw up. For a second you actually thought you would. Desperate for an escape, you mumbled a hasty, “Bathroom,” to Steve and took off in the general direction of anywhere but here.

In the quiet of Steve’s guest bathroom, you could hear the thrumming of your heart in your ears, butterflies swarming your stomach. Get a grip, you told yourself, it’s just Eddie. But then … it was always just Eddie. Eddie telling you how good you looked in his jacket. Eddie’s hand on the small of your back at the 4th of July Carnival. Eddie calling you by pet names far too intimate for someone who lost their cool at a mere touch.

You liked him, and unless you were terrible at picking up on signals, you were pretty sure Eddie liked you, too. It was a dizzying feeling, liking someone this much. Especially when that someone was Eddie.

You spent longer than you intended in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water a million times until you could barely feel your skin, drying your hands until they felt raw. When you were finally satisfied, your heart halfway back to its normal pace, you braved your way out to the kitchen.

You efforts were in vain. The moment you stepped into the kitchen you walked right into something tall and Eddie-shaped.

“Woah!” Eddie grabbed your elbows, keeping you from stumbling backwards. He was still shirtless, bare chest inches from your face, his curly hair damp. “Hey, you’re just the person I was looking for! Are you okay?”

The heat returned to your skin tenfold. “Yeah, I’m … I’m okay.”

Eddie’s grip tightened around your arms as he dipped his head a little to get a better look at you. His eyes were set with genuine worry, making them darker than usual. “Are you sure? Steve said you came in here, like, ten minutes ago. Thought I’d come check on you.”

You swallowed, nodded, looked anywhere but his inked-up skin or his kind, pretty face. “I’m fine, Eds. Just got a little hot, s’all.”

You were a horrible liar. You knew it, Eddie knew it.

“Oh,” he said. You waited for him to say, if you were so hot why didn’t you just get in the pool? But surprisingly, he kept quiet.

Neither of you moved. You were hyper aware of Eddie’s hands on your elbows and his chest tattoos on full display. You told yourself you should probably stop standing so close to him, so close that you could smell chlorine and faded cologne on him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Eddie finally let go of your arms. You followed his hands with your gaze — bad idea. He shoved them in the pockets of his denim shorts, the waistband hanging low on his hips and the fabric ripped enough to belong in a rockstar’s wardrobe. His exposed skin taunted you.

“We better get back out there, then,” Eddie said jovially, rocking on his heels.

“Right,” you said in the same tone, though yours was totally fake. You wished you could die on the spot.

Again, neither of you moved an inch. You couldn’t move an inch, not when Eddie was so close you were breathing each other’s air.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice had changed, there was something smug in it, though it was mostly thoughtful. You looked up grudgingly, guessing exactly what his face would look like before you’d looked. He was smirking.

You would’ve burnt him with your eyes if he wasn’t so pretty. “Yeah?”

“I think I might know what this is about,” he said knowingly. He took a step forward, his hands moving to hover just shy of your hips.

Oh, heavens. You prayed Steve’s kitchen tiles would open up and swallow you whole.

“What?” You challenged, though there was no real fire in your tone. You were putty under his gaze.

For your sake, Eddie lost the smirk. He took another step closer, his hands resting ever so gently on your hips. His thumbs ghosted over the exposed skin between your shorts and your top. You could feel your heart in your throat, punching around your airways like it wanted to suffocate you.

Eddie’s face turned serious, almost soft. He was so close now that you could count his freckles. Three, plus two on his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

All you could get out was a sort of anguished whisper. “Please.”

When he kissed you it was with all the confidence in the world. You were melting into the kiss in seconds, his lips pressing into yours in a way that somehow made up for the eternity of lingering touches and longing glances.

Your hands hung limply at your sides — you didn’t stop to think as you moved them to touch his arms, his shoulders. You’d always wondered what he felt like under all that leather and denim. Eddie sighed into your mouth, one hand sliding around to the small of your back. He tasted like an awful combination of chlorine and Coca Cola. You should’ve found it grosser than you did.

You pulled away just when you thought you might pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Well,” Eddie said, all breathless and charming and flirty. You couldn’t help but notice his heaving chest, his swollen lips, his wild eyes. You felt a little sheepish that you’d made him look like that. “That was—”

“Ha!” There was a great shout of laughter from the window. “I knew it!”

You and Eddie jumped apart, heads whirling to the source of the noise. Not surprisingly, it was Dustin, ogling at you through the glass, surrounded by Max, Lucas and Mike. Steve towered over them at the back, trying and failing to look like he wasn’t totally invested.

Eddie, always the charmer, flipped them all off, earning him a chorus of childish ‘boo’s and groans.

“Charming,” you told him, smiling all over. “Remind me again why I like you?”

Eddie dropped his hand, his face morphing into mock surprise, dark eyes blown wide. “You like me? Really? I’d never guess.”

You rolled your eyes, face hot. “Would another kiss shut you up?”

[anitalenia]

━━━ 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 ₓ˚. ୭

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. just thinking about what it would be like if the gray boys wanted you to have their kids. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: Courtland Gentry, Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader

content includes: darkish content in Lloyd’s part, unprotected sex, p in v penetration, overstimulation, breeding kink, pet names such as baby, pretty girl, good girl, sweetheart, choking but the sexy way, dirty dirty talk, fucked dumb!reader, cervix fucking, squirting, back scratching, reader calling Lloyd daddy, slight dumbification, clit rubbing, soft sex, stomach bulge

warnings: sexual content 18+, cussing + nasty words, darkish content in Lloyd’s section

authors note: I been thinking about this for a few days now… and I don’t even want kids 😜🫰🏻✨

LINKS ੈ♡˳·˖✶ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 | 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔

✧ ˚ LLOYD HANSEN　· 　 .

⋆˙⟡♡ Lloyd could only grin at you, amused with the way you could barely form a sentence, amused at the way you held onto his shoulders like that could really stop him. Your nails dug into his skin and drool pooled down your cheek; Lloyd could only groan hotly at the pleasurable sting of his skin breaking under your fingertips.

His cock, thick and hard, still after cumming twice in you already, was sliding in and out of your throbbing pussy with ease; you were still so wet even after the several orgasms Lloyd had effortlessly forced out of your limp body. You were almost cross-eyed it hurt so damn good.

Lloyd had you shoved into the mattress, sheets ripped off the corners and blanket discarded on the floor. He was panting above you, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist, your hair clinging to the sweat on your forehead as you let him take you however he wanted. You were too weak to fight, too fucked out to argue that your back was sore and your pussy ached.

You moaned at another hard thrust into your wet hole, his balls smacking into your ass as he laughed into your ear, hot and breathy and arrogant. The headboard banged into the cracking wall of his bedroom, worn down from the many sleepless nights and afternoons and mornings Lloyd couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Fuck, Lloyd!” You gasped out as he pulled out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt, eager for his dick and the feel of it stretching her out and bruising her in. Another pulse of painful pleasure rang through you, had you arching your back and thighs tightening around him.

“Aww, was that too hard, baby? My mistake, daddy’s so sorry… but he has to make sure all his cum gets into that little tummy of yours if you want his kids, doesn’t he?” He cooed in your ear sarcastically, his mustache scratching against your cheek as you rested your forehead against his muscle next to your head. You whined at that, eyes closed tightly as you gasped against his skin. He was so big, so much thicker than any cock you’ve ever had.

You could admit he was right, you wanted so badly to have his shithead kids because you were that deluded by his charm. He had fooled you, molded you into the perfect wife who sucked his cock any time he asked and gave him her sweet pussy anytime he wanted. He wasn’t going to ever let you go, he was going to ensure your devotion to him with the one thing that would keep you tied to him forever.

You were tired of it, mouth dry from moaning so much but pussy hungry for more and more and more. You were just his little cumslut, his doll bred to be his perfect girl that would happily take whatever he gave you. And he wanted to give you his cum, all of it, see your belly round with his children and your tits full and flush of milk and fat.

Your pussy squelched and leaked around his cock, his head in your neck as he took a hand off the headboard and traced it down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, until he was rubbing your soft tit under his hand like a bowl of jelly.

You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of it, your skin hot and tingly and stuck under him. Then he slid his hand back up, palm grazing your sensitive nipple and sending a jolt down your tummy.

He snickered, cocky and self-assured, as he wrapped his hand around your jaw and twisted your face to look at his, fingers digging into your hot cheeks. You whined weakly at the force of it, his cock slowing down inside of you like he was focusing on the feel of your wetness wrapped around him, like he needed you to focus on his words instead of the feeling of him fucking into you.

“Mmm, my pretty baby. This pussy is just begging to be filled with my cum, isn’t it? She wants me to give her all the cum she can take, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Lloyd smiled deceivingly sweet at you, looking into your eyes with sweat gathered on his hairline.

You nodded blindly at that, hips bucking up into him for more, to bury himself deep inside your pussy until you didn’t know where you began and the base of his cock started. Your toes tightened and thighs tingled as he gave you what you wanted, not because he was satisfied with your response but because he loved that look on your face when he’d thrust into you, your furrowed brows and wet parted lips as a soft moan would sound from your breathless lungs.

“Can you imagine our kids, pretty girl? Hmm? One with your pretty little eyes and one with mine. Two little brats running around calling you mommy… god, I can just imagine how big those pretty tits would get. Tell your daddy, is that what you want baby, huh? You gotta tell me…” He grinned into your ear, gripping your jaw to keep your head straight as he picked up his pace, the tip of him slamming into your cervix and sending painful throbs down your thighs that had your hips bucking away from him. Your cries were cracked and uneven from the force of his thrusts, his thighs smacking into you and his grunts and chuckles breathing across the skin on your cheek.

You babbled agreement like a dumb slut, not really listening to a word besides the sound of his balls slapping into you, a fresh batch of wetness gushing out onto the sheets and soaking your thighs with your own juices.

“Yes, yes, please, please, daddy. Please cum inside me, please please please…” You begged as your stomach tightened like someone pulling a rope around a tree, your nails drawing blood from his back that dribbled down his shoulders. Your pussy clenched around him so tight he grind his teeth trying to push back in, feeling his balls tightening at your compliance.

He mouthed at your neck, tasting the salt, being uncharacteristically sweet as his hips stuttered from the pleasure ringing through his dick and thighs.

“Fuck… yes, baby, I’m gonna cum inside that pretty pussy… daddy knows how bad you want it… come on, pretty… that’s it, that’s daddy’s girl…” He coaxed in your ear as you let out a wail and squirted around him, your cum going on the sheets and his thighs as he talked you through it.

He followed soon after, your pussy squeezing around him so tight he could barely push in. He managed, balls deep as he let out a grunt, dropping his head in your neck as he came inside you.

You felt his cum shoot inside you and it had your tired body tensing from the sensation. You breathed heavily as he collapsed on top of you, his hands coming down and gripping your waist to center himself.

He kissed your cheek, mustache tickling your skin as you leaned into him.

“I think…I think it worked…” You murmured breathlessly into the air, eyes closed as you caressed the skin of his back.

He chuckled, just as tired as you, his limp dick still inside of your wet hole as neither one of you wanted him to pull out just yet. You enjoyed feeling full of him, your warmth pulsing around him as your thighs trembled every so often.

“You’re gonna make daddy happy, aren’t you, baby?” He murmured sweetly, a satisfied smile on his face as he felt you nod against him.

He took his hand and rubbed your belly, knowing that you would indeed.

✧ ˚ SIERRA SIX　· 　 .

⋆˙⟡♡ It was a rainy night, thunder and lightning flashing in the dark sky and rain pattering on the windows when Six had mumbled it into your neck, sleepy and groggy like he was just speaking from his mind and not from fact.

“Have my kids…” His voice was so soft, overpowered by the storm, that you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. So you asked him what he said, eyebrows furrowed and phone thrown to the side as something else had caught your attention.

“I want you to have my kids…” He said it again against your skin, his eyes closed and his arm around your waist like he’d been sleep talking. You knew him though, knew that when spontaneity hit he would use it, but not unless he didn’t meant it. He was genuine and serious, thumb rubbing your stomach like he was already imagining it swelled up. You felt your tummy tighten at the thought, wetness plaguing your lower lips as you imagined what that would be like.

That’s how you ended up here, laying on your stomach with Six’s broad body on top of your back, a hand intertwined with yours as you grasped the dark gray sheets above your head, his other hand digging into the sheet next to you to balance himself.

His cock was big and long, thrusting into you slow and surely, pushing his cum into you and making sure you felt every single inch of him within you. He breathed against your neck, heavy and hot, as you gasped into the sheets, hips perked up so he could fuck into you easier.

“Does that feel good, baby? Me deep inside you like this?” He muttered into your ear, pushing into your wet hole with a soft squelch until his balls were hanging by your clit. You felt so full, so good, a pleasurable pulse ringing through your legs that had you whining into the dark, a flash of lightening illuminating the room.

His hand tightened around yours as you clenched around him, letting out a high pitched uh-huh in agreement.

You felt the ends of his blonde hair tickle your shoulder as he thrusted into you a little quicker, but just as sensual. He was always the type to make sure you got off before him, ensured that you cum before he even thought about his own release.

He took his hand that was wrapped around yours and glided it down your arm, sending tingles down your heated skin and a fluttering in your stomach. He brought it down to your tummy as he thrusted back into your tight pussy, gritting his teeth at the warmth squeezing around his cock.

He pressed down on the space just above your pelvis, feeling the tip of his cock bulging in your tummy where he was gonna cum. You keened at the pressure of him pushing down on your stomach, your juices flooding out of you in an unexpected jolt of pleasure and marking the sheets with a dark patch.

“I’m gonna cum right here, make sure you’re full of my cum so you can have my kids. You want to make me a daddy? You wanna be a mommy, hmm?” He hummed into your ear as he pressed down harder on that spot that had your toes curling and pussy tightening. He loved the idea of you pregnant with his children, your skin glowing and your stomach full. He could picture it in his mind, could only imagine how much beautifuler you’d look pregnant, and it made his balls tighten and dick stick up straight.

He pushed into your sopping cunt, pulsing around him as you sobbed into the sheets, tears welling in your eyes at the indescribable pleasure coursing through you from the feel of him. You felt him, all of him; felt every vein and every ridge, felt his tip rubbing up against you and bumping into your cervix. He didn’t stop there, forced himself inside and went even further.

“Oh my god…” You cried as he slid his hand down with a grunt, pushing into you as his hand quickly found your sensitive clit. He took his middle finger and slowly pushed down on it, his finger soaked with your juices as he rubbed it like it was a precious diamond he was trying not to ruin.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby. I’m not gonna let you leave this fucking house after I fill this tummy. You’re not gonna lift a finger… I’ll do everything for you, baby. I’ll do anything…” He moaned, voice raspy and thick with arousal, always so sweet and generous to you. He was only pulling out halfway before thrusting back in so he could stay inside of you, his muscles flexing with every thrust into your tight pussy like he was forcing his way in.

You felt your thighs shaking from the way he was rubbing your clit, skilled fingers rubbing the wetness in your slit and making you moan louder than the rain that pounded on the windows. You wanted him to give you his kids so bad, wanted him to come inside of you even worse. You felt hot and surrounded, but comforted by his larger body on top of yours, always shrouded over you like the protector he was.

He groaned into your skin, resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder as he felt his need to cum tighten the coil in his stomach.

You couldn’t stop it, too blinded by the pleasure to notice the liquid that squirted over his thighs and creamed around his cock, your thighs almost numb as your knees shook and your hips fell into the bed like your muscles gave up.

“Ohh, baby…” You whimpered helplessly as you gushed around him, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit as you finally came around him. He furrowed his brows in concentration, his hand leaving your pained clit and giving you some relief as he thrusted into you faster, rhythm faltering as he pictured how big your tits would get during your pregnancy, how he could stuff his face between them and leave purple marks on them.

“Mm, I’m gonna cum… you gonna take it for me like a good girl?” He mumbled into your ear with gritted teeth, ignoring the way your sensitive pussy squeezed around his dick almost painfully, throbbing and sore from his dick repeatedly pounding into it without stopping.

You hummed an mmhmm, sounding needy and weak, completely overstimulated as he kept fucking into you, close to his release the more he heard your sweet whimpers.

“That’s my girl…” He grunted, pushing into you one last time before he burrowed himself deep inside of you, biting your shoulder as he came inside the deepest parts of your pussy with thick ropes of white cum that shot out of his pink tip.

You moaned weakly at the feeling, lips chapped and head ringing as Six waited a beat before pulling out of you with a soft grunt, his limp dick falling out of you easily. You couldn’t move, feeling empty and cold as he picked himself up from you, looking at your gaping hole with cum drizzling out like sweet icing.

He breathed heavily as he laid back down next to you on his back, then reached over for you so you could lay into him. His arm slithered around your waist, eyes running over your glistening skin.

“come’ere.” He uttered with a scratchy voice, helping you turn around as you flipped onto your side, cuddling into his hot skin with a sigh.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, catching your breaths as Six held you into him, staring at the ceiling with a content face, his mind filled with the image of your kids running around, your pregnant belly and your twinkling eyes, your radiant skin and your beautiful smile. He’d knew you’d make the best mother and he couldn’t wait to experience it.

You were thinking of the same as your fingers softly tapped against the hardness of his chest, staring at a scar there with your head rested in his neck.

“You really mean it, Court? You really want kids?” You whispered almost bashfully, not wanting to have all this hope fluttering in your chest just for him to crush them under his trained fists.

Six cracked a small smile, “I think I made that pretty obvious, don’t you?”

You felt the wetness between your thighs as a sticky reminder, a small chuckle leaving your lips as you cuddled closer into him.

“Yeah, that’s true, too.”

[reds-writings]

can you write Cooper Howard with a gn reader i’ll take anything in desperate 🙏🙏🙏

(pairing: the ghoul/cooper howard x gn!reader)

a/n: thank you for the request anon! i used this opportunity to get a feel for writing his character as a practice run so i hope this is to your liking! feedback is greatly appreciated!

warnings: cursing, petnames(?), violence, cooper is a meanie as per usual, etc

word count: roughly 1.1k

“I told your ass he’s mine!” You grunted as a result of harshly landing on your ass for cover in the middle of a truly unnecessary shootout smackdab in Filly.

“You snooze you lose, sweetheart.” Came the lazy drawl of the irradiated cowboy, also known as the absolute bane of your existence, somewhere afar behind his own cover amidst this gunfight. Bounty hunting was already a tough business as is but with the infamous Ghoul who somehow always managed to sniff out where you were to swipe nearly every potential bounty from under your feet, things had started to get fucking ridiculous. 

You were low enough on caps and supplies to where you couldn’t let this tired routine repeat itself once more. Safe to say, you were pissed. 

“Who said anything about snoozin’ or losin’, you fuckin’ radioactive WORM-” You shot at another one of your bounty’s backups before popping out to switch cover.

Bullets riddled the dirt far too close to your feet for your liking before you slid behind an old rundown wagon. All you needed was the damned fella’s head to bring in should you get to him first. How was it any fair that you put in all the work to track these shitheads down and all the Ghoul had to do was follow you right to the goods? Never even lifting a wrinkly finger? No matter how much you tried to throw him off your scent between jobs it was just no use. 

“You best give up now fore’ I put a bullet between those lovely eyes of yours.” Rang his voice again and you wanted to gag like a petulant child. 

“You can take that weird flirtin’ of yours and shove it up your shriveled ass!”

“You think too highly of yourself, sweetheart,” His gun fired off a few loud rounds, “Give up or I’m fuckin’ shootin’ the shit outta you both. Maybe then I'll finally know peace.” More shots zipped by and it appeared his feigned sense of patience was running thin. This cat-and-mouse game seemed to bore him quicker than usual today. 

“Go fuck yourself, cowpoke. You should be able to manage just fine without this one given you’ve nabbed all the others, lazy bastard-” Wood splintered next to your head in that instant. His patience had definitely boiled over but, like a fool, it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You managed to catch a glimpse of the bounty scurrying closer toward an empty saloon to escape. It was now or never.

Grabbing a grenade from one of the corpses nearby you pulled the pin and hauled it with a quick prayer to whoever was listening in the general direction of the Ghoul. You heard a sharp curse and couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you bolted towards the escapee. The resulting explosion of your last ditch effort almost threw you off your feet but you regained momentum quickly with whatever adrenaline-driven desperation you had left. 

It wasn't long before the thwip! of a rope and a violent tug around your ankles dashed all of your hope and short-lived triumph. As well as all the air from your lungs as soon as your tired body slammed to the ground. 

Jagged rock and debris from the Filly dirt bit at your skin as your competitor pulled you towards him like you were a helpless calf caught for slaughter. The anger rolling from him in waves caused by petty inconvenience could’ve had smoke billowing from his ears. If you had any sense you’d start being terrified right about now.

Though, you figured you wouldn’t have to worry about caps anymore if he just finished you off.

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Always gettin’ in my fuckin’ way.” He yanked you close enough to straddle you with a rusted knife to your throat. He wanted to make this personal now. 

“Can’t blame me for tryin’ to survive-” You wheezed as he landed an unforgiving blow to your stomach. He could be a real mean bastard when he wanted to. 

“Quit yappin’.” The ghoul snarled with yellowing teeth and a burning hatred that would have just about anyone else withering away. Up close he wasn’t all that bad looking for what most would dub a monster. Maybe you’d hit the ground too hard.  

“Circlin’ back to pretty eyes…you sure got some yourself for a ghoul n’ all-” Another blow had a flash of stars bursting across your vision. That fucker broke your nose! Seems like snarky jibes from him were fine all day long but sue you for getting one in yourself. 

Before he could decide to jam that knife of his in your throat, a series of hacking coughs erupted from his chest causing his hold on you to momentarily weaken. Looks like his desperation for this bounty came from a lack of Radaway to keep his sorry ass alive.

That was too fucking bad. 

Taking the interruption as your chance, you spit a generous glob of red-hot blood into those pretty eyes and swung a hefty rock at his scarred head. He fell to the ground with a bark of surprise but that didn’t stop you from hitting him again until you made sure he was out cold. 

With your chest heaving, you wiped your forearm beneath your dripping nose and winced. You'd have to reset it later.

Why did everything always have to be so difficult? Fighting this hard for anything these days was hard to be justified for a life like this but the cycle would go on. Pathetic as it was. Looking down at your reddened and dusty clothes you groaned knowing that a bargain for anything decent would be a pain in the ass. 

Your ears perked up at a scuffle nearby. The bounty was still trying to make a run for it. Of course. Taking the rifle from the knocked-out cowboy you aimed from a distance before blowing the runaway to bits and pieces. Job mostly well done. Now you needed to get the hell out of dodge before sleeping beauty came to. 

Rummaging through your bag you found a spare vial of Radaway. If you left it for him he’d probably forgo the more than generous gesture and just be hellbent on eliminating you like he’d originally intended. But, what fun would it be if the only consistent figure in your day-to-day died in the most underwhelming way possible? You needed a reason to fight. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Rolling your eyes with a huff you flicked the vial at his unconscious form, not really caring where it landed before making your way to retrieve the pesky bounty's noggin and head on to the next town. You’d need to make quick work without any stops tonight lest you wanted to tango with Grumpy again but you'd manage.

He’d find you one way or another, that was a given. But you’d sure as hell be ready. 

[double-vandammage]

Title: Rude Awakening

Word count: 2,573

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Bret POV, Handjob, Blowjob, Alcohol

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Here is my first fanfic in probably 6 years. I'm so nervous about it, but I hope you Hartbreak shippers like it. I'm fairly new to this ship so please be gentle. 🥹 Thank you to the encouragement of my sis @taydaq, @imabillyami, @crxssjae, and @superkickme 😘

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in future fics, I do plan on writing more. 🫣

Bret sat silently by his motel window, watching the rain gently glide down the glass. What a shit day he had, it was only fitting the weather was also terrible. The promo he had just cut with Shawn weighed heavily on his mind. He was so tired of the little prick. Night after night he had to observe Shawn flamboyantly parade around the stage. Not only did he have to watch the annoying spectacle, but also endure the man occasionally shake his bare ass at the crowd. The fans ate it up and he couldn’t fathom why. They were close once, it seemed a lifetime away. Thunder cracked, startling him from his thoughts. The universe was telling him to relinquish any thoughts of Shawn for the rest of the evening. He didn’t want Shawn in his head more than was required, especially while he was alone in his motel room. Bret made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers and slowly he drifted to sleep.  

Abruptly there was an aggressive and continuous rap at his door. Bret was barely able to open his eyes as he dazedly glanced at the bedside clock. The time read 2:00AM. “Who the fuck-?” he grunted as the knocking became louder. He whipped the blanket from his body while quickly swinging his legs over the mattress. “I’m coming dammit.” he spat, stumbling to the door in his sleepy stupor. He put his eye to the peephole. “Jesus Christ…” none other than a Heartbreak Kid disruption. “Hey! Big daddy cool! Open up big sexy!” Shawn half yelled, half giggled. Bret opened the door, “wrong room shithead. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Shawn was drenched. He had clearly spent some time in the rain. “Whoa.” Shawn raised both hands up in defense. “This isn’t Kevin’s room?” Bret made a show of moving his hands up and down his own frame, “clearly it isn’t you asshole, what are you drunk?” Shawn put his index finger and thumb together, “Mmmm…maybe just a pinch.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bret took in Shawn’s appearance. He was soaked, so much so he had created a pool of moisture on the motel floor. He was a mess. “Do you know which room Kevin is in?” he asked, not wanting Shawn to be his problem this early in the morning. “Hmmm…well I thought this was his room…so I guess…no.” he said with his signature smile, chuckling to himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I bunked here tonight, eh Hitman?” Shawn asked while running a hand through his wet hair. Bret thought this must be some cruel joke the universe was playing on him. The last thing he wanted in his room was a drunk wet dog named Shawn Michaels, but he couldn’t let him wander aimlessly up and down the halls, slamming on random doors, and calling for big sexy. 

Bret crossed his arms, “shit. Fine. Do not drip on anything.” Shawn grinned, “Thanks Hitman, you’re the best there is and ever will be.” he said, pushing Bret to the side and slapping him on the arm. Bret closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “The bathroom is to the left, I can get you something to change into.” He closed the door and turned to find Shawn already on the bed. “Are you fucking kidding me Michaels? You’re super fucking soaked. Get off the bed, now.” Shawn rose, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh man…I am?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “Uh, yeah. Get up.” Bret demanded. Shawn moved almost intentionally slow, the blankets getting more and more saturated. 

“Dammit Shawn. Get your ass to the bathroom.” he said, grabbing Shawn’s arm, shoving him towards the open doorway. “Alright, alright. Ya don’t gotta be so touchy.” Shawn almost immediately began stripping off his flashy costume. He shook off his vest and began removing those hideous chaps he insisted on wearing. He kicked off his boots next and in doing so Shawn had noticed Bret leaning against the door frame observing. Bret in an instant knew exactly what he was about to do. Shawn turned, his back facing him and commenced shimmying his tights down to wiggle his ass at him. “Like what ya see Hitman?” he taunted. Bret kept his face stoic, but could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. “Stop that shit and just get cleaned up would you?” he urged moving away. Shawn smirked, pulling his tights completely off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  

Bret began pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed, discarding them onto the floor. He could hear the water start to run and eventually steam wafted outside the door. He pulled out a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats from his suitcase for Shawn to wear. Bret climbed back into the bed to try and get some more sleep before they had to be on the road again. The shower stopped and after a few minutes, he felt the empty side of the mattress shift. “Absolutely not boytoy.” he murmured. “Oh come on Bret, there’s not even a couch in here.” Shawn whined. “Not my problem. This is already obnoxious without having dry blankets, you are not sleeping up here.” Shawn in a child-like tantrum, huffed off the bed and onto the floor with one of the pillows. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Outside rain still poured and thunder intermittently boomed, a particularly loud burst was enough to rattle Bret awake again. The clock registered at 5:00AM. He could hear Shawn’s slow and steady breathing, surprised Shawn didn’t also wake. Rolling to the opposite side of the bed, Bret peered over. Shawn was lying on his side facing him. Long blonde hair fell down around his shoulder and pillow. His bangs draped over his eyes. Shawn was beautiful, anyone could see that. Bret found his eyes had lingered, observing the white t-shirt he let the man borrow had slightly uplifted, revealing a small glimpse of Shawn’s tanned stomach. Quickly he averted his gaze and rolled back over. Squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the sounds outside in an attempt to stifle an unresolved hunger he had no business feeling towards the Heartbreak Kid.

Unable to rest, he again got out of bed to reside by the window in the lone chair. He needed air. He opened the window just enough to feel the cool misting of rain against his face. Minutes later he heard Shawn stirring, a small groan escaping from him as he stretched. Shawn sat upright, dreamily looking at Bret. “Can’t sleep Hitman?” he mumbled. Bret ignored him, keeping his view to the window. “I gotta take a leak.” Shawn yawned as he shuffled towards the bathroom. Bret listened as Shawn fumbled around in the dark, hearing the toilet flush and sink run. He came out in the middle of another yawn, “Fuck me, I’m gonna be sore. You think people will believe me when I say I’m sore after spending the night in the Hitman’s room?” he laughed. “Don’t even joke about that shit Shawn.” Bret spat. “I’ll kick you out right now, don’t test me.”

Shawn cautiously made his way to stand in front of him. “Come on, would it be so terrible? Maybe this is exactly what you and I need.” Shawn said, reaching out a hand to brush the inky strands of hair from Bret’s face. Bret caught his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.” Shawn only invaded his space more, moving his leg to part Bret’s thighs. His free hand tilted Bret’s chin upward so he could meet his stare. “I know you look at me. Just like I knew you were looking at me over there.” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the bed. Bret jerked his head away irritated, but Shawn hadn’t released his grip. Shawn lowered himself, his mouth inches from his ear, “I like it when you look at me…”.

Bret felt many things for Shawn Michaels. Desire he could always snuff out, now he wasn’t so sure. Shawn closed the space between them, placing his lips to Bret’s temple. Bret involuntarily let go of Shawn’s wrist, finding he was nuzzling into Shawn as he continued to trail light kisses around the side of his face. “Touch me Bret…” Shawn sighed into him. Bret moved his hands to Shawn’s waist, tugging him forward so the younger man was situated between his thighs. Shawn moved his hands to cradle his face, lifting him slightly from the chair into an eager kiss. Bret let his own hands find their way under his t-shirt, running his fingers up Shawn’s back. “Come here.” Bret breathed against Shawn’s lips, guiding him to straddle his lap. 

Shawn smiled into their kiss, feeling Bret’s growing excitement beneath him. Shawn slid his hand down, teasing at Bret’s erection. “I knew you always had a hart on for me.” he joked. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up Michaels?” Bret gasped in between Shawn’s stroking. Their mouths fought for the upperhand, Bret captured Shawn’s bottom lip and bit down roughly. Shawn withdrew, taken aback, “Damn hitman.” he snickered, testing his lip for blood. He hated Shawn and this was probably a huge mistake, but all he wanted to do was make Shawn shut up. Swiftly he grabbed Shawn by the thighs, hoisting him up, and threw him to the bed. Shawn bounced onto the mattress, promptly grabbing at Bret’s shirt to yank him forward. Bret landed a quick peck to Shawn’s mouth before moving to devour his neck. Strategically he removed the pesky white t-shirt from Shawn, creating a makeshift tie to bind Shawn’s wrists.   

He ran his tongue down to Shawn’s shoulder; tasting sweat, motel body wash, and a hint of rain water. Not an ideal flavor, but damn did it taste good on Shawn. Bret flipped Shawn effortlessly onto his stomach, keeping hold of his bound wrists. He swept Shawn’s hair to the side, kissing the nape of his neck. Shawn arched into him, craning his neck to meet Bret’s lips. His fingers felt for the waistband of Shawn’s sweatpants, sliding his hand under the fabric, not surprised to find he wasn’t wearing underwear and grasping his cock. Letting go of his wrists, he tapped the side of Shawn’s hips, signaling Shawn to prop himself on his knees. Shawn read him easily as if inside the ring and elevated his backside, pushing against Bret’s groin, breaking their kiss and keeping his face down to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Hitman…I want you.” Shawn sputtered as Bret began to steadily pump Shawn’s dick. “Fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Bret.” he mumbled into the bed. How long had Shawn wanted him? Was it nearly as long as he wanted Shawn? Over the years he had indulged himself in the occasional sexy boy fantasy and every time he loathed himself for it. He was a complete hypocrite with each jab at Shawn for shooting that girly mag. Now he had Shawn under him, unapologetically jerking him off. He brought his free hand to clasp Shawn’s throat, easing him upward so he could relax against his chest. Bret continued his deliberate rhythm, relishing the low moans and the way Shawn began to thrust into Bret’s hand. “Jesus. Don’t stop.” Shawn whimpered, burying his face into Bret’s neck. He could tell Shawn was getting close, his panting becoming more rapid.

The feeling of Shawn nestled into his body was intoxicating. Sure, they had their physical history in the ring which was intimate in itself but maybe Shawn was right after all. Maybe this was exactly what they needed. What they couldn’t settle on the mat, they could settle behind closed doors. Bret pressed his lips to Shawn’s forehead, “You know I still hate you?” he said, his words muffled against Shawn’s skin and damp hair. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” The hold he had on Shawn’s neck became a little tighter. “Even with my…dick in your hand, you still…manage to be all business.” Shawn choked out as Bret’s pace began to quicken. Bret covered Shawn’s mouth, muting the wail expelling from him as he erupted into Bret’s hand. Shawn clawed at his hold with his own constrained wrists, his hips rutting wildly into Bret’s palm as he rode out his orgasm.       

Bret released Shawn, letting him drop to the mattress. He lay there exhausted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Shawn twisted his wrists from the tied up shirt, easily exiting his confines. “Bret baby…” Shawn with eyes still glazed over, rolled to face him. “Please, let me make you feel good too.” he begged, crawling between Bret’s legs to play with the drawstrings of his sweats. He lifted Bret’s shirt, kissing gently at his stomach. The touch of Shawn’s lips pressing at his skin made him shiver and the thought alone of the blonde going down on him was damn near enough to make him come. Against his better judgment, he leaned back and let Shawn take control. 

Shawn slid his sweats and underwear down, revealing his throbbing erection. Without much pause, Shawn took him into his mouth. He let his eyes flutter shut, Shawn clearly had done this a time or two. His mouth felt so warm, so good, his tongue hitting all the right places. He clutched at Shawn’s hair, allowing his fingers to entangle themselves. “God damn Michaels…” he managed to groan as Shawn licked up the length of his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Shawn was unrelenting as he held tightly to Bret’s thighs, keeping him in place as his hips bucked desperately into the heat of Shawn’s mouth. He couldn’t help the mangled cry Shawn managed to pry out of him as he came. “Holy shit.” he breathed, unable to form anything else articulate. 

The rain seemed to intensify outside the window, brisk air filtering in and caressing their moist bodies. Shawn had positioned himself on top of Bret’s stomach, his chin resting on crossed arms. “I bet you didn’t hate me just now.” he purred. “Fuck you.” Bret smirked, propping a hand behind his neck. His dark eyes met Shawn’s baby blues. “What now?” Shawn asked. Bret’s other hand traveled down to brush the hair from Shawn’s face, tucking a rogue lock behind his ear. “I don’t know. We have to get up soon.” Shawn emitted a breathy sigh, “Let’s stay like this a bit longer.” he insisted. The Heartbreak Kid’s eyes closed as he leaned into the way Bret lazily threaded his fingers through his golden hair. 

Internally Bret felt the need to run, this dangerously bordered on affection. He should shove the younger man away, tell him to get lost, and figure out what to do before their next show. However, his needs and wants were very different. He had said nothing would change, but deep down he knew neither of them believed that. Would they fall back into their rivalry or back into bed? What was to follow after, they couldn’t know now and they didn’t have to address it just yet. This sweet silence was preferred to all the bullshit they put each other through. Even if they had got it wrong, they could figure out the details later. Before the other knew it, the sound of the rain mixed with their slow breathing lulled them to sleep. 

This quiet moment was theirs to keep.

[owatazumi]

strawberries & cigarettes — jay park

swear words ! kissing ! enemies2lvrs ! female!reader ! not proofread and most definitely not — real !

he has had enough. every — single — day — you pretend like you don’t know him like you don’t care about him like you don’t need him, when both you and him know that’s far from the truth. he’s had absolutely enough of your bratty attitude and he’s going to show you that you can’t ignore him all the time and most definitely — not — forever.

“hey.” your locker door slams shut, almost making you let your school books fall out of your arms from the surprise. you turn your head to the person who slammed your locker, facing one of the many people that you definitely did not want to come across today and any other day. “Jay…”

you let out a dissatisfied sigh before turning your body towards the tall boy, his hand resting on your now closed locker, staring at you with that same old careless look. “what do you want, Park? don’t have anything better to do than to almost cut my hands off?” you roll your eyes, turning on your heels and walking away from him, school books in your arms and bag on your shoulder, ready to go home.

he follows behind you, you can almost feel his burning gaze on the back of your head but decide to ignore that for now, just trying to make your way back home. “actually i do, shithead, but i decided to get on your nerves because your reactions are priceless and i could really use some entertainment right now” he was now walking backward in front of you, body turned towards you, hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket and a big fat smirk on his lips. oh, how you hated that smirk…

“oh yeah? well, i’m not here for your entertainment, so get the fuck out of my face, Park, i don’t have the nerves to deal with you right now.” you spit out at him with an angry expression, speeding up a little to walk past him and out of the school building, making your way to your bus, hoping that you aren't too late. “oh come on princess! you know you like being played like that~” he doesn’t actually mean that, but you don’t have to know that, do you?

your eyebrows raise in disbelief as you hear his painful words. “are you being serious right now, Park? are you fucking kidding me? just because you little piece of shi-”

“dare to finish that sentence and i’ll step on those crappy little books of yours.” he threatens, his foot stepping slightly on a few of the papers that fell out of the said books “oh yeah?” you scoff, eyebrows raised in a way of showing your disbelief. “you little — piece — of shit.”

he steps even closer to you now, not caring about the books on the floor or the papers that are now scattered across the pavement, slowly being blown away by the wind. his hands quickly and hastily reach for your face, both of his hands on each side of your flushing red cheeks as he pulls you in for that long-awaited, passionate kiss. his lips don’t leave yours for probably like — three minutes or something. you don’t care about anything right now either, you don’t even care about the fact that you ‘hated’ him. all you care about right now is that his lips are sealed with yours, tasting like strawberries and cigarettes, feeling like two clouds colliding. your stomach is doing left and right turns right now, probably also driving a hundred kilometers per hour as your mind is clouded with the thought that you finally gave into that desire. that desire — to be his.

[nightendale]

Bad liar | Yellowjackets natalie scatorccio x reader

Words: 1k

Based of this prompt

I wrote reader with a girl in mind but it can be read as a nb reader, there’s no mentions of gender or anything alluding to the gender of reader.

Warnings: cheating, swearing, natalie being a shithead, mentions of sex, angst

For an hour of the three they had been gone you’d propped yourself on the single arm chair of the cabin just waiting out the window, the other girls were confused in your anxiousness over the two and you let them stay in the unknown about ur reasons.

Truth be told though it wasn’t the both of them that you were worried about, it was just Natalie, you and the other girl had just made the next step in your relationship going from friendship to a somewhat relationship something that now has you insecure around Travis, knowing deep down he’d be the better option.

You try to push your insecure thoughts away and continue to watch out the window ignoring the other girls whines about you not helping out.

After around two hours later you awoke to Jackie slamming the cabin door open, sitting up confused you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and got up seeing that not only was Jackie out the front of the cabin, but the rest of you team was, including Travis and nat.

You were about to run up to Nat all bad feelings vanishing upon the sight of the other girl, that was until you started really taking in what was in front of you, Natalie and Travis both had flushed cheeks, no it’s probably from the weather you thought, until your eyes trail up a bit more to see the state of their hair.

That’s also when you finally came to what Jackie was saying to them, “glad to know why we don’t get any food is because you’re trying to become mayor of bone town.”

She wouldn’t would she ?

Just a day ago she was kissing me and laughing about our future out of the Forrest.

You hoped, you hoped Jackie was wrong, you hoped they had a good reason, you hoped, you hoped your heart wasn’t about to get broken, until Travis and Natalie stayed quiet no denying of Jackie’s accusations.

You’re gonna be sick.

You turn around not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to see her anymore, fuck them fuck this cabin fuck it all, you run inside not caring how crazy you look, you’re heart was just shattered into a million little pieces.

Running inside you slam the door behind you and run straight upstairs to the attic, your emotional state not caring how scared you normally are of it and taking comfort in being alone.

You lay down in the pile of blankets left up there by one of the many other girls, and sob.

-

You awake to the feeling of someone pushing your hair out of your face, realising you must’ve cried yourself to sleep you groggily sit up and wipe the sleep out of your eyes, about to say hi to the mystery person until your eyes adjusted, Natalie, Natalie was sat in front of you looking distraught, her eyes and lips were puffy looking like it was most likely from crying and her eyes looked so dull, she was just staring at you with the most guilt wenched look making you remember what had happened.

The memories flushed through you, making you swat her hand away, not missing the hurt that flashed across her face.

“What are you doing up here Natalie.” You basically spit at her, pushing your body backwards trying to get away from her as much as possible.

“I wanted to see you.”

“What, you bored of Travis already?” You say moving to get up, you didn’t want to be in this attic at all let alone with her right now.

She follows your movements, “I swear (y/n) it wasn’t like that at all.”

“What was it then Natalie?, we get together and then you ho and screw the first guy that’ll give you attention?” You say turning to face her moving closer to her anger taking over every part of your body.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” She says tears starting to pool in her eyes, she moves her hands to try and grab yours, making you move them like she had just burnt you.

You start laughing dryly “you’re telling me you didn’t mean to fuck someone else mere days after we had gotten together?” You shake your head, moving to leave the attic “I can’t believe I thought you’d be any different with me.”

Natalie reaches out pulling you back so you can’t leave, “please (y/n), it was a mistake I promise it won’t happen again, please can we work this out, i will change I’ll change for you.” She pleads to you holding onto your wrist.

You release yourself from her grasp and move so your chest to chest, “you’re a bad liar scatorccio, we’re done.” You say lowly in her face, you then walk past her hitting her shoulder on the way out.

As you leave you can hear her break out in a sob, you just shake your head, she won’t change, she can’t handle loving without pain and you were tired of hurting.

Note: thank you for the love on the killing moon !!! Another chapter for it should be out sometime this week but until then I’ll be writing some mini fics, my request are open btw so if you’d like to see something request away :)

[xzerosparrowx]

The Meeting of the Fellowship

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Day #2 - Prompt: In the Beginning | Word Count: 768 | Rating: T | CW: Fat shaming and bullying. | POV: Gareth | Tags: How the fellowship met, Corroded Coffin in middle school, Eddie's first day at Hawkins, Tommy Hagan is a bully.

Hawkins Middle School. A veritable zoo where the Jocks, Geeks, Stoners, Punks, Brains, and Goths all converge for some good ol’ American education, all of them sniping and gnashing at one another when they cross paths. Gareth, Jeff, Doug, and Zach walk through the school invisible, within these halls they are no one and belong to no clique; each of them too quiet and too average to have anyone notice their existence. 

“Hey fatty!” a voice yells over the chatter. Gareth watches Zach tense his shoulders, hunching his body in an attempt to make himself look small. Before realising that Tommy Hagan and the rest of the Hawkins basketball team have surrounded their little group, a pack of hyenas circling the wounded. 

“You get that history assignment done, like I asked?” Tommy says, holding out his hand expectantly towards Zach, the others in the group snicker when Zach opens up his binder and pulls out three crisp pages of a carefully written essay. 

Tommy snatches them, flipping through the pages as he casually reads it over, checking on Zach’s work as if he knows what he is even reading about. His brow furrows and angrily points at the page in front of him “what the hell! Despot isn’t a real word!”  There is loud bark of laughter somewhere off to the side, temporarily stunning Tommy and his pack of half-witted shitheads for a moment before all their heads turn to the source of the sound.

A boy is standing by the lockers, lanky and rough-looking, swimming in a blue sweater that is marked by tiny moth holes and a black beanie on top of his head. Gareth watches him in fascination and horror as Tommy stalks his way over, the boy shutting his locker with a loud clang, books clutched in his arms, seemingly unaware of the Goliath behind him. He finally turns around and to Gareth’s surprise the boy looks bored when he faces Tommy, as if the presence of the jock is not the worst thing he has ever encountered. 

“You wanna say something, freak?” Tommy dares, a finger pointedly jabbing the boy’s chest.

Gareth watches the boy narrow his eyes at the finger, hands curling by his sides, a tightly wound coil ready for a fight before the boy suddenly breaks into a wicked grin, body suddenly relaxing.

“If you want to know what a word means, maybe you shouldn’t have shit for brains,” the boy says sincerely as if he is giving genuine advice, a chorus of ‘ooooh’ and snickers fill the hallway and Gareth cannot help but smile as the mysterious boy gives a small wink towards him and his little group. 

The boy’s face catches Tommy’s mean right hook with a loud smack, the sudden burst of violence seems to slow down time as the boy straightens up, spits out a glob of blood and rubs the bright red mark already blooming on his face before pouncing on Tommy in a burst of speed that catches everyone by surprise. It is a blur of action at that point, David and Goliath exchanging fists. Gareth, Zach, Jeff and Doug fighting off the rest of the jocks in an attempt to stop them dogpiling the boy, and there is no way in hell they will win this fight but Gareth cannot help but feel like he’s finally part of something.

They are shoved in the cramped, dark confines of the Janitor’s closet for their trouble, Tommy and the jocks laughing loudly when they slam the door close on them. Gareth pulls the cord for the overhanging bulb, revealing them all tightly packed together with the mystery boy, lips swollen and bleeding, the black beanie sitting skewed on his head revealing an outgrowing buzzcut. 

“Thanks for that, really,” Gareth says, the rest of the group nodding eagerly in agreement, “I’m Gareth.” 

“Jeff.”

“Zach.”

“Doug.”

“Eddie,” the boy replies with a smile, holding out his hand awkwardly towards Gareth and Jeff, hands criss-crossed against his chest. They shake hands seriously like businessmen in an important meeting until they are bursting with laughter, Eddie cackling loudly that makes all of them laugh harder. 

A few moments later, as they start to calm down, Eddie looks at them with large excited brown eyes “you guys want to be in a band?” 

Zach, Jeff and Doug all exchange glances with Gareth, and he can see the same glimmer of excitement and joy on their faces that he knows he is reflecting back at them. He turns to Eddie, the boy grinning as if he already knows the answer. 

“Sure!”

[5tr4ylov35t4y]

warnings: pure smut

author note:comment if you want to be tagged for next oneshot about seungmin

This absolute little shithead demon has such an obsession with stuffing every hole possible with his cum. He doesn't care if he's gonna be late, hasn't eaten yet, nothing can stop this man from getting what he wants. It's even worse when you've you've bratty and practically demanded for his attention, he'll force you to walk around with his cum dripping onto your clothes, even going as far to make you send pictures just so he knows you've behaved

~~~~--------------------------------------------------------------------~~~~

"mhmm.. just like that, takin' me so well, lovie.." seungmin whispers right against the warm skin of your neck, nosing your jaw to press kisses just by your pulse point as he helps you through a rippling orgasm that has you tipping your head back.

you don't quite remember how you've ended up in this position, memories all muddled with the haze of sleep.

you can only think of eager fingers slipping past your nightgown and someone playing with your clit. then heavy hands handling your all too receptive body to lay on your stomach.

seungmin feels over your flesh, wandering every patch of exposed expanse he can lay a claim on that hasn't already been sucked purple.

you mewl sleepily, hazy eyes lidded with exhaustion, completely succumbing to the heat of his sculpted front pressing against your back, seungmin tracing the perfect arch of your spine with a reverence that nearly feels out of place.

you can do nothing when he drags the head of his cock over your weeping cunt, aligning his hips so the spasming muscles of your tempting heat crown his thick and throbbing head as he pushes just the tip in.

the fluff of the pillow that cushions your hips and tilts your pelvis up so he can have access to your pretty and drooling cunt is surely soiled by now, long ruined by your husband's seemingly unending need to stuff your pussy completely overflowing with his cum.

you don't argue when he forces all of his weight into his thrusts, wheezing out breaths and whispers of his name that sound like prayer as he fights back against the way your pussy tries to push his too-big cock out.

"just one more, sweetheart?" he straightens himself, eyes settled on the way the head of his cock comes out glistening when he pulls out. "gimme one more and we can stop, yeah?"

you know it's not true, can feel the lie in the way he grinds against you, heavy balls slapping against your clit when he wraps inked arms around your hips and leverages you up.

but still you nod, pretend that you don't know he's going to keep you up all night with the steady push and pull of his cock till you're splattering mess after mess on the sheets.

"use your words, love." the softness of his tone is a direct contrast to the way he manhandles you as if you weigh nothing.

"anything for you, si.." you mutter, hands fisting the bed sheets and preparing yourself for the rough slam of his pelvis by your ass.

surprisingly, his scorching breath tickles your ear with a groaned "anything?"

you blink hazy and watery eyes, turning cheek to meet his gaze that nearly looks like a trench ready to swallow you whole. his thrusts have paused, and now you're left only to clench at him, urging him to move his too-fat cock and chase the near painful coil of your gut.

"anything?" he repeats, blinking down at you, soft groan broken by heavy pants for breath. hands trace over the dip of your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. "don't think you're ready to give me anything, love."

"anything! anything at all!" you shake your head, willing him to believe you.

seungmin chuckles, beginning to drag the thick length of him up your sweet cunt, sinking himself till he's balls deep.

".. mhmm.. how 'bout i make you a mommy?"

[siremasterlawrence]

Based On A Conversation 2

Slave Cowboy Scott has been on the double working hard to keep the farm up as well as running even though the farm barely makes any money at all but some how he manages to make it work.

That night the moonlight rises high above us with cool air rushing out bodies he enters in the house on the dude ranch he wraps his arms over me and hugging me tightly I can see it all.

The phone rings breaking his attention once more I can see him keep staring back at me as he rolls his eyes he hangs up the phone hand on his hips he does a heavy sigh at his predicament.

Within the next hour his brother as per usual arrives up to the house knocking onto the door slamming his fist hard and harder as Slave cowboy angrily opens the door for him to come in.

He enters drunk as even slugging done one more beer bottle then smashing it onto the floor as the pieces float letting the pieces crash onto the floor we watch with so much disgust.

He stares at me with intent of curiosity he grabs my face tightly pulling my cheeks aside and I kick him in the shins as he cries in pain and I laugh a bit snapping my finger and Slave cowboy gets to work.

He uses his arms to pin him using his under arms wrapping them he forces Jeffrey to face me unhappily and I look into his eyes carefully catching his attention strongly with power.

My eyes begin to spiral into a heavy state he can’t look away I have him under my spell now as he swoons and he starts to sway from side to side as Slave Cowboy Scott loves me.

I call him to focus on my every word fully in to my utter desire as he can no longer think for himself he bows to me dropping to his knees and places his hands onto my waist with love.

“Jeffrey you are my slave “

.”Yyyyeeesssss”

“You love me”

“I love you “

“I surrender to you “

“I am your world”

“Will you kiss me?”

“Kiss me”

“Yes Master Lawrence!”

“Rise up “

“Take my hand”

“I love you, Master”

“I love you too “

“May I serve you?”

“You can’t get your hands off of him”

“Relax cousin”

“Or what?”

“I’ll make you “

Misha Collins his brother who changed his name to differentiate himself from the rest of his life.

He walks into the house throwing punches high off his mind the two guys and to fight him off.

They both retrain him to a chair and leave me alone in room with him the lights flip on and I steady myself.

“Who fuck are you?”

“Everything you are not “

“Excuse me you punk”

“You heard me”

“HELP”

“Who are you calling?”

“Help”

“Hahahaha! No one is coming for you “

“Fuck you! Shithead “

Taking one swing with my hand I slap him so hard his face slams to the side I laugh in a fit of victory.

Cupping his chin I propel it upwards to face me as I kiss him king, slow, steady and he is in another word.

A array of feelings consume him because he no longer has any filter his mind is at a lost anger, rage, love and lust.

Letting go I leave him to his own thoughts of perverse shenanigans rolling up in that sick, fuck and twisted fantasy.

I sit onto his lap I reach out to his waist as I yank him towards me, I kiss him a bit more as we make out.

hH can’t help himself and we give into each other we intertwine as one becoming every inch of each other.

“Oh God! “

“Not even close”

“You are my God!”

“I am in awe of you “

“You make me strong”

“You give me life”

“I am your soldier”

“I am your maker “

“We are one”

The end

Based On A Conversation 3

“Slave Scott you had your breakfast.”

“I’ll get to work “

“Jeffry clean the house”

“Misha help Scott”

“Yes Master”

“Yes My King”

“Glorious triumphant”

“Who are the next guest?”

“Both of our sons”

“Are you excited?”

“Damn fools!”

“Why Master?”

“You have no idea”

“About what?”

“How much they will suffer?”

“It’s for your pleasure”

“Your benefit “

“Your everything “

The sound of a magnificent third to ground by my porch can be heard hitting the rough farm land.

I walk onto the porch onto smirking at Scott fighting with his nephew Jensen who is on the floor.

He sits up picking his sunshades from the dirty, muddy and filthy ground with Scott standing over it.

I hear the horror in his fade with all three guys dragging him up the staircase to the house.

They strap him down for me then proceed to rip off all to his clothes and admire the how work.

Giving him one last glance they stood back on my orders I dim the light with a simple use of fingers.

- SNAP -

“When I count to three Jensen you will be mine.

“1 - 2 - 3….wake up “

“Hey Master”

“On your knees Jenson”

“I love you sir”

“Follow me”

“Disrobe me”

“Lay me on the couch “

“Worship me”

“Nice slow “

“Steady”

“Take your time”

“That’s it love me”

“Touch me

I snap my fingers now a second guy named Jared appears next to him in horror and dismay.

“What the hell?”

“Shut up”

“Jensen help him”

“Of course”

“Get over here”

“Kiss me love “

“Mmmmm”

“Delicious “

“Do you see the light now “

“Yes Master we do”

The end

[triplesilverstar]

The first strike is always the hardest

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Death, dealing with death, verbal fights, medical inaccuracies, secret reveals, trauma, angst

Word count: Roughly 2.6K 

A/N: The first chapter of Heartache by the numbers, which takes place after the events of child of blessing.

Somehow, the backseat of the truck had become even more uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the seating arrangements or lack of space. The middle was now vacant, a divide that while in reality measured only a few feet could have been iles wide. 

You were sitting in Vash’s lap, secured against him by the seat belt both angled so you were looking out the door window. Your elbow pressed against the glass, cheek squished against your fist and watching the sand dunes roll by. The events from yesterday replaying in your mind, what a fucking shit show of a day. 

After running around the town trying to avoid the barrage of bullets being fired after Vash and the wind like weapons you were exhausted. Arriving just in time to watch as Wolfwood pulled the trigger on that damn laser weapon, you’d found your hand reaching out and grabbing the dark haired man before slamming him into the metal under your feet. 

“It’s not like I hit Blondie, you crazy bitch!” You had him pinned, as he screamed into your face, and you let the venom in your voice roll full force.

“That’s not the fucking point you shithead! You don’t get to point that damn thing at him or interject on his behalf if your only reaction is to kill.” You were glaring daggers at him before slamming him back down and running towards where Vash had dropped at the apex of the hull serving as a strange roof to the village, his back facing you. Scoping up Peace Bringer as you ran by and slipping it into the band of your pants. Hands reaching for him as you noticed the flecks of metal and dust in his hair, and the maroon crust drying just under the longer locks on the side of his head. 

“Vash, can you hear me” you’ve walked past him and lowered yourself down to your knees directly in front of him. His gaze is downcast, head lolled forward, with gentle fingers you’re grasping his chin to tilt his face up so you can see his eyes. The pupils are blown wide, edges almost jagged, and it takes a moment longer than it should for him to slur out an answer, and you have to worry about a possible concussion even if you know in a few hours he’ll be alright. 

“I’d ask if you’re injured but that response is telling me what I need to know” your own head is darting around in the fading light looking him over, keeping him steady and hopefully not causing him more pain, a ring of purple bruises is already starting to show near the top of his turtleneck the skin underneath no doubt a matching hue. A few bruises along the side of his face hidden under the dust, gently wiping it away to get a better look. 

“Rollo” his voice is brittle and catches your attention, his swallow seems painful and his brows are pinched “Check on Rollo. Please.”

“Vash, you said he was gone” even as the words hurt to say, you’re trying to keep your face and voice neutral, keep the panic off your face. How badly hurt is he to be saying a name that a few hours ago he’d told you was dead? The boy he hadn’t been able to save, that he’d promised he’d save. Well told Wolfwood, who probably wasn’t aware you were listening through your ear piece while you were laying low on a rooftop keeping track of the big guy trying to kill your boyfriend. 

“It was him, it was Rollo. He fell” a shaky finger is pointing towards where the body of the big guy had fallen and it slowly dawns on you. The reason Vash had asked you to try and shock him instead of restricting his movements, he’d figured out the boy he’d tried to save was the thing that had been hunting him all afternoon. Taking notice of the fresh blood starting to run from a cut hidden by his hair above his temple, pulling some gauze from your jacket to dab at it before it starts to drip too far down his face. Once done you answer him, placing the used gauze in your pocket.

“Ok Vash. I can check on him, but I can’t leave you by yourself” your own throat is tight, trying to keep the sorrow from seeping through as you speak. You know the body down in the sand is dead. No one, not even you or Vash could survive a laser blast through your skull and into your brain. “Can you stand up?” Vash is attempting to rise on his own, shaking movements and a staggered step, before you’re under his arm taking his weight against you as you slowly begin to descend down the old hull. 

Slow measured steps and you notice Wolfwood approaching, and your stomach is churning, jaw clenched tight and you snarl the words out at his approach. “Go find the reporters and meet us down below.” 

He’s looking at you bewildered, like you’ve asked the impossible of him or maybe he’s still reeling from the fact that for the first time since he’s appeared you’ve been openly hostile towards him. In the end he does turn away opposite the way he’d come. 

It doesn’t take you too long to get down to start moving towards where the body of Rollo fell, and the twin suns have started to set. Vash slowly but surely regaining more and more of his senses, his steps becoming steadier as you both walk down. “That’s it Sunshine, just one foot in front of the other.” Soothing, or aiming to be while his body and mind are reeling from the damage he’s taken. Both physical and mental. 

By the time you reach the base of the roof, Vash’s steps are steady once more so much so that he pushes your arm wrapped around him away. Your hand dropping to your side, a soft thud as it hits the fabric, knowing he’s blaming himself for this tragedy. Walking under his own power and moving closer to the body of Rollo slunk into the sand. It stings to see him put those walls in place once more. 

The two of you reach the remains as the other three in your traveling party join you, one of whom you’d still like to deck. Feeling your heart beating painfully in your chest as Vash moves ever closer and lowering his body to the sand. Voice so brittle, and you can hear the tears he’s trying to choke back. Trying because you know that once more he feels he doesn’t deserve to cry. 

“Come on” the first words he speaks and you hear the crack in your own heart. “Wake up” Vash is starting to shake the body, and you’re taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “You have to be ok. Please Rollo!” Voice raising in volume, a reflection of his desperation. “You’re fine little man. Just wake up. Please. Wake up” watching and hearing Vash break again in so few days is tearing at you. No matter what you try, you know he’ll just push you away.

“That’s a corpse Stampede. Just let it go” the way Wolfwood’s voice carries makes the sorrow you feel evaporate almost immediately. Hands balling into fists and you’re taking deep breaths for a whole other reason. 

“Why’d you shoot” from the angle you’re at you can see the briefest clenching of Vash’s jaw. “Don’t play dumb why’d you shoot Rollo?” He’s moving before you can react, grabbing that damned undertaker. A part of you is glad Vash is lashing out for once, because this time it’s not his fault. Not in the slightest. He can’t save everyone, and he was certainly trying to. 

“Mercy.” The finch on Vash’s face, and the way Wolfwood speaks makes you ever angrier. What the fuck does the Undertaker understand about mercy, swallowing thickly as you watch the two of them interact. Vash releases him, head downcast and the few steps Wolfwood takes makes your blood boil. Looking down at the corpse as if he’s aware of the weight of what he’s done. You aren’t fooled. Those measured steps are from someone who’s taken more lives then he has digits to count them on.

“That monster was not the kid you knew. Keeping it alive would have been torture.” Those words burn, lighting the embers in your heart that always sit simmering just under the surface. Referring to a living being as an ‘it’ teeth starting to grind inside your skull. Maybe you’re taking it too personally. The truth is, those words ring in your head because you’ve had those same words thrown at you so often in the past. 

“It’s not for you to decide.” Voice cracking and you agree with Vash, it wasn’t for the undertaker to decide. 

“You think you’re some moral authority. It was you who did the poor kid so wrong, an empty promise is a lie. That or a wake up call to check your ego.“ Like a wire under tension the reins of your shaky control snaps. 

Vision filled with red. 

How fucking dare he. Vash had tried to save the boy, and it was clear, at least to you another force had interfered. The road to hell was paved with good intentions and goddamn Vash tried his fucking best. His moral compass didn’t need someone like Wolfwood telling him he was wrong. 

As silence starts to ring after hearing Wolfwood's words you take a few steps closer to the undertaker and swing, fist connecting with his face and sending him careening to the sand. “You have no right.” Just as the wind begins to blow all around the five of you, tone flat. The sound of your fist connected with the side of his face muffled by the whisper of the sand carried in the wind. 

“What is your problem now?! First you slam me against the hull above the town, now you clock me here!” You’re still frozen in place looking down at the undertaker as he scrambles to stand face void. 

“You have no right to decide what is mercy, and what isn’t. This” you wave towards the body laying in the sand “person, was experimented on. Vash. When did you try to bring the medicine for him?” 

“What does th-”

“Answer the question Vash” you don’t raise your voice, just cut him off. Closing your eyes and trying to keep yourself from doing something far more violent. Trying to pull those reins over your rage back into place.

“Around ten years ago” his voice is soft and somber with the answer, and you don’t move your head to look at him, keeping your gaze squarely on Wolfwood as you reopen your eyes. 

Swallow it down, but it back inside, back behind the door. 

“And from the story Roberto told earlier, he said it started circulating around five years ago. So if this is Rollo, he didn’t die. He was taken and experimented on by some-”

“And that makes slugging me ok!” Chest tight, feeling the rage inside of you starting to churn like you’re going to be sick. He is not helping you keep that burning inferno of rage locked inside of you. Your far more likely to walk away from your own problems, but you won’t let something like this linger without being challenged, not when someone is trying to strike at the walls Vash patches around his own mind. A flaw that in moments like this, brings all your calm control under distress. 

“It does when you think it’s ok to kill someone who’s a fucking victim! What makes you have the right to decide if someone is human or not anymore! For all we know something else was controlling him!” Your voice is getting louder, ringing out across the sand, and if you hadn’t been so focused on Wolfwood you would have seen Meryl flinching away from the sound. The boom of your words carried on the wind.

“What makes you think he was experimented on?” Now it’s venom dripping from Wolfwood’s voice, and if you had of been calmer you might have seen the briefest shake of his hands and shoulders. Closer to a tremor then a shake. 

“Because people don’t have shit like that fused to their skin, or vials of chemicals to make their wounds heal!” Eyes widening, unaware you’re closer to screaming at this point.  

“Oh and healing overnight from a slash down your forearm that should have left you unable to use it for at least three weeks is normal!” Sneering at his callus words thrown right in your face. Of course the little bastard had noticed you’d been bleeding after the events inside the grand worm. Or his little buddy had informed him of what happened. Another check mark in why you don’t trust this man. 

“Does that mean if I step out of line, I'll be the next person whose brain you put a bullet through?” You can feel your fist tighten, to the point that you can feel your bones creaking in your grip, the pain a welcome reprieve. 

“If you go on a rampage, yes! It’s pretty clear you aren’t human with the shit you pull! Maybe you were part of the experiments that were done on him? Even I know the ‘Ghost Sniper’ didn’t exist before seven years ago.” All throughout the exchange neither one of you is noticing the way Roberto is glancing between you, or to Vash who has yet to move from where he’s been standing breathing deeply as if he’s trying to deal with something.  

“So what if I was experimented on! Because trust me boy if what you’ve seen so far makes you think I’m not human, then you haven’t seen the real mons-” lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl and shoulders tight. Legs bent just enough that if your ready to spring forward for a fight. 

A single word rips from Vash’s mouth cutting through the silence of the night and ending your verbal spat with Wolfwood, a word that has you freezing feeling all the rage you feel inside you burn even hotter but you won’t act on it. Hearing your name spoken aloud tends to have that effect on you. “That’s enough” his voice is tired but you can feel the edge to it, he won’t let you take that argument with the undertaker any farther. Won’t let you make it more physically then you already have. 

You take a few steps back from Wolfwood, trying to calm the rage inside you and look around. You can’t see Vash’s face, but you don’t need to, you know the disappointment would be clear enough to see from an ile away. The reporter duo however, all you can see is shock and pity there. You are not dealing with this right now, and turn making your way towards the truck. Shame starts to flood your system with your actions, and you decide you’ve had enough traveling with other people. 

Vash is yelling out to you but you keep going, body hot and muscles spasming as you walk swallowing down your emotions.

Back behind the door, close it and force yourself to move on. 

Glad for the distance to the truck so you can regain control, feeling the tightness in your shoulders starting to wane. The fire in your heart starts to slowly cool and the churning of your guts begins to slow, no longer wanting to punch Wolfwood into a pile of bloody pulp. To feel his ligaments tear as you twist his joints, an empty satisfaction that would have solved nothing 

You’re still angry, but it’s not what's controlling your actions any longer.

Back to Masterlist for the series

[theoddcatlady]

The Seven Angels

Blanca Leon. Tracy Russell. Jean McLaughlin.

Seven girls went missing three years ago on the December 12.

Gabriela Brown. Alice McGrail. June Larsen. Claudia Inman.

The only thing these girls had in common were that they were all thirteen and that they all lived in the same town. Race, interests, grades, social status, nothing else matched up. Blanca and Tracy were close friends, as well as Gabriela and June, but the others didn’t know each other.

Claudia was my little sister.

The last time I saw her was when I was heading back to my room. I had snuck out to hang out with some friends and was reasonably tipsy when I saw her standing in the hallway. She was wearing a Snoopy shirt and pajama bottoms. Her red hair was tousled in every direction like she’d just gotten out of bed.

She just stared at me. I giggled and pressed a finger to my lips.

“D… don’t tell mom and dad?”

She didn’t say anything, so I figured that was her way of agreeing to keep our secret. I kept on giggling as I slipped back into my bedroom. I wonder now if she was alone in that hallway. The next morning I woke up to mom screaming about Claudia being gone and to call 911 because there was blood on her bed.

It wasn’t blood, by the way, it was just red paint. Someone had taken the time to spill red paint all over the bed and to write the number ‘7’ on the wall.

Up until this point I was a shithead of a teenager. Sneaking out, drinking, smoking, I was kinda the worst. But when Claudia went missing I changed myself. I was one of the people out searching every day. I helped answer phones and comfort the other distraught families. I kept my family together as we prayed for Claudia’s safe return.

I knew we’d never find her alive when the first body was found.

It was Tracy. I became friends with Tracy’s mom Amelia while this shit was going on. Amelia blamed herself for this, saying the last thing that had happened between her and her daughter was an argument. Tracy wanted to go see her dad for Christmas and Amelia was putting her foot down. Tracy screamed that she hated her and that Christmas was going to be the worst this year before storming into her room and slamming the door.

The next morning Tracy’s bed was covered in red paint and the number one was painted on the wall.

Tracy’s body was found in fucking California. For reference, we live in Indiana. It was two weeks after the girls had gone missing and this poor fucking minister walked into the church to prep for the morning services only to find the mangled body of a teenage girl.

It was worse than words can do it justice. Pictures got leaked on the internet and although I told myself I shouldn’t look, I did anyway before they were taken down. Tracy had been strung up from the ceiling, dangling from the rafters like a morbid marionette. Her eyes had been put out and… have you ever heard of the method of torture called the Blood Eagle?

If you don’t know what that is, I’ll save you the trouble of googling it. The victim is tied face down while the back is cut open and the ribs are detached from the spine. The ribs are then spread out, the lungs pulled out and over the ribs to mimic ‘wings’.

It’s not pretty. That’s what happened to Tracy.

The killer had given one mercy and that was that he left Tracy’s school picture taped onto her chest, with her full name, address, and the date she went missing.

Amelia had a full breakdown when the news was delivered. She ended up being institutionalized. I don’t blame her. The autopsy confirmed that Tracy had been alive when she was cut up like that.

Each week a body turned up, scattered all over the US. Christmas had already came and gone by the time Tracy’s body was found but Claudia’s presents were still under the tree that we had yet to take down. Normally dad would insist on taking it down the day after Christmas but we just couldn’t do it. An unspoken wish that Claudia would be found safe and sound, that we could all have Christmas together.

This wasn’t a wish we’d get.

The final girl taken, the final girl found. Claudia was found only ten minutes down the road from where we lived at the small St. Anthony’s Church. She’d taken her first communion there. She’d been cut up like all the others, only this time she wasn’t alone.

Mr. Leroy Weber was found kneeling under her body, praying up to it as her blood dripped down on him. The monster we’d all been hunting down was the unassuming Algebra teacher for the eighth graders at the local middle school.

I had Mr. Weber’s class way back when. I’d thought of him as one of my better teachers, he knew how to make the material clear to us and he never assigned homework. When asked why, he’d just shrug and say, “Less for me to grade.” He certainly didn’t look like a killer. He was over fifty years old, wasn’t over 5’7’’ in height and looked like a strong wind could just blow him away. But then again, you probably don’t have to be strong to put a knife to a child’s neck and tell her if she screams, he’ll kill your entire family.

That’s how he did it. He never tried to deny what he did. He had his full confession written out and ready to go the moment the cops rolled up to the church. When we were told it was him, I saw red.

If my dad didn’t catch me leaving the house with a gun and the intent to murder Mr. Weber, I would’ve been in a lot of trouble. Amelia wasn’t the only one who had to go to the mental hospital for a bit, I ended up joining her that night.

I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing either, I’m actually glad I went. I probably would’ve completely snapped without the doctor’s help.

Mr. Weber never went for the insanity plea, but to be fair, I think it would’ve worked for him. Because his bullshit reason for killing all these little girls made me seriously contemplate busting out of the hospital and going to wring his scrawny little neck.

He wanted to make them angels.

He was the only thing that really tied them together, one time or another each of those girls had been in his class. Each of those girls he claimed was ‘perfect’.

“I had to be sure I got the formula right, I practiced on cats, dogs. If I failed when the time came, then they wouldn’t be angels.”

Just remembering that sick fuck makes me sick. What really takes the cake though? He thought by killing them and making them angels… they’d rise up in three days. He said this so calmly and proudly to the cops that it was without a doubt that he was a loon.

When he was reminded it had been more than three days that Tracy had died and well, she was still very much dead, he apparently wigged out. He tried to disarm one of the police officers to shoot himself in the head. He didn’t succeed but when his case went to trial he begged for the death penalty.

I know. I was there.

I’d managed to get out in time for his sentencing trial. I was holding Amelia’s hand as Mr. Weber sat in his chair. I’d almost expected him to be different, maybe he’d have this dark smile or this insane laughter, but when he spoke it was the same soft voice he’d used when he was teaching.

“Please. I failed in my mission. I need to pay the price for my horrid sins.”

It was the one thing he wanted and it was the one thing he was given. I didn’t attend the execution, but Amelia did. She called me when it was over. She was crying, saying she’d thought it would make her feel better but it didn’t. She felt so much worse.

She almost killed herself after that, but I helped her get back into the hospital. We’re still friends. We visit Claudia’s and Tracy’s graves together, all the ‘angels’ were buried together.

Angels. I wouldn’t have called Claudia an angel while she was alive, she was an imp like I was at her age. I guess Mr. Weber saw something I didn’t though.

See, after he was executed, I heard that his stuff was being auctioned off on a serial killer memorabilia website. Yes, those are real, and I really wish they weren’t, but the big ticket item was his journal. His exact plan for what he was going to do to those girls.

I ended up emptying my checking account to buy that shitty book. When it arrived, I spent all night reading it.

His plan truly was to create an angel. A holy being of justice and the sword. His ramblings ranged from crazy to batshit insane, but he truly believed in what he was doing.

And I think he may have succeeded.

It’s been three years. I’ve recovered best I can. But last night Amelia and I were heading to the graveyard when we were stopped by a bright light.

We both fell to the ground and covered our faces. When I lowered my hands to catch a glimpse, that’s when I saw her.

It was Tracy. She was wearing the green dress she was buried in, her innards dragging behind her from where her back was sliced open. Her eyes were emitting that bright light, white orbs that were practically bugging out of her shrunken face.

Amelia sobbed when she realized who this girl was and ran forward, only for Tracy to back away, shaking her head. When Amelia reached to touch her she shrieked, backing away as her hand crumbled away like ash. Tracy sobbed and leaped into the air, floating away until she was a star in the sky.

All the graves have been torn open from the inside. Some of the other parents have claimed to see their child.

Meanwhile I’m waiting here at my parent’s house, right at the front window. Right by my side are Claudia’s unopened presents, covered in dust.

I hope she comes home soon.