#THIS BETTER NOT BE THE FUCKING LAST WHAT THE FUCK

[ms-demeanor]

fucking client emailed in requesting a license last night at 10, called today before nine asking for the license and if I could hurry this along because it was urgent; being the person that I am I went to go find some more information and discovered that the customer wants to do an in-place upgrade on a nine-year-old free license to a recent server license which is.

A) not possible with the service pack they have installed B) probably not compatible with the two kinds of software they have talking to the database C) probably not compatible with their actual server, which blew up spectacularly in January.

(all of which is to say nothing about the wide variety of possible ways to purchase and install the license, but probably standard is what they want even if they're technically too big for it)

I talk to my team, most of whom do not have much experience with upgrades/migrations for this software and we all agree that more research into their environment is needed, including possibly calls with their other software vendors and also possibly maybe replacing their twelve year old server.

Call the client at 2pm and let him know that this project is going to be more rigorous than just ordering a license, let them know that this isn't being dropped or ignored, but we need more information and will be in contact when more of the team knows what's going on.

5:14 PM, my coworker messages me "hey, do we have a tenant for this client?"

I message my coworker: "fucking lol, this is about their license, isn't it?"

It is about their license. They have sent in an emergency after hours ticket describing the issue as urgent: they have purchased the license on their own from a consumer vendor unaware of the fact that they need admin access to a tenant to download the software.

I create a tenant for the client and document the information, then provide the tenant ID.

And then since it's urgent, it's an emergency, I begin gathering data and composing an email.

The license won't populate to the tenant for hours at least and probably not for a full day.

They didn't actually tell us what license they've got, but if they plan to use it with one flavor of software they've got they probably need a secondary license they were totally unaware of.

I have found no evidence whatsoever that this license is compatible with their other software.

I hop into an after hours meeting with one of our tier three consultants to get the exact version number of the software and confirm that there is not a straightforward upgrade path between the license they have and the license they want.

I send an email advising that if their developer wants to make an upgrade they MUST back up the database because we have emergency backups, not database backups, let them know in writing "per our conversation this afternoon, this is why we don't think this will work" and thank them cheerfully, letting them know to reach out if they have questions about licensing.

hit send at half past eight.

Combined after hours work on this "emergency" "critical" "urgent" ticket is now probably about half the hardware cost of a better server.

I get that emergencies happen, but buddy if I tell you "hey, I know you are in a rush with this but we have to take our time to do this correctly" and you ignore me and make me stay late to handle your "critical" ticket, you and I both are not going to have a good time.

[ghost-proofbaby]

the hat rule. (e.m. x fem!reader)

the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.

summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.

wc: 13.3k+

happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.

If someone had told you last week that you’d be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, at Steve Harrington’s apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.

The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Tito’s. 

He’d never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, ‘slutted out’ as Robin had so kindly put it – men included.

Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadn’t even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writer’s costume (you’d hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out – a sensual bunny costume.

And then, there was Eddie.

Eddie fuckin’ Munson. 

“Pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,” he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, “Gonna start catching flies otherwise.” 

“There’s a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?” you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, “Something where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?” 

Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, “Oh, baby, you know me so well.” 

“Cut the pet names, Munson.”

You try to scowl. You really do. But you don’t mean a damn word you say. 

Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume. 

Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest. 

And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion. 

You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this. 

“You don’t mean that,” he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before he’s dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. “Or maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,” Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, “That better, darlin’?” 

You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation. 

“Terrible,” you flatly lie, “Cowboys aren’t even from the south, idiot. They’re from the West.” 

You have no desire to hear Eddie’s Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control. 

It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, won’t they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each other’s orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos – you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.

That’s just how the friendship worked. 

The friendship. 

Friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Eddie won’t leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, “Damn. You’re right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.” 

“Oh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.” 

“Yeah?” he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Why don’t you do it for him? I think I’d like a slap more coming from you, honestly.”

He’s acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you can’t stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesn’t change that. 

You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, “Wanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?” 

“Oh, trust me, you’d never have to do all the work with me, ba-”

“Can you two get a fucking room?” Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for. 

You’re aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly. 

“Sorry, Robs,” Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, “I promise I’ll behave myself the rest of the night.” 

And yet, despite the words you’re hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite. 

There’s no real need for him to do it. There’s plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you – and yet he still fucking does. 

His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, “We’ll both be on our best behavior tonight – right, kitty?” 

Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as he’s looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long. 

Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, “Right, cowboy.”

Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, won’t they of it all. 

It’s about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst. 

—

Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steve’s corset when he complains he can’t breathe (he certainly can, but you’re starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steve’s friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.

You’re not even at the club yet and you’re already regretting your revealing attire.

Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’. 

Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you don’t recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, “Jonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.”

“I concur,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand. 

“You’re also cheating, asshole. This is the first round you’ve lost the entire game.”

“Or maybe I’m just really good at cards, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’m really good at-”

“He’s not cheating,” Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as she’s served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and you’re certainly not going to comment on Robin’s hands toying with her permed locks, “Stop being a sore loser and just strip.” 

You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robin’s head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm. 

“I think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,” she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, “He’d look cuter that way.” 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt. 

When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though. 

The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost – none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as he’d win, time and time again. So far, he’d only lost his boots. 

He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.

And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser? 

Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips. 

“Trying to decide what to take off, Munson?” Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.

You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously. 

You don’t care what Stacy from Steve’s job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it weren’t for Stacy’s all-red, latex Devil costume.

Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, “Obviously. You know, it’s not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.” 

“What? Don’t think you’ll be as pretty without your hat?” you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process. 

The last thing you should do when you’re staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

It’s the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because – yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. You’d spent the last half hour imagining how pretty he’d look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs. 

You’re up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where he’s seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. It’s a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as you’d had a front row seat to the sight of him. 

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. He’s dangerous and he doesn’t even know it, “I only meant you were pretty with the hat.” 

“You wound me,” he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, “Gonna stand there and tell me I’m not pretty when I dressed up just for you?”

You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, “Just for me?” 

He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to – and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You don’t want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you don’t want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, won’t they?

And you want that answer to be will they – terribly, terribly so.

His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, “Okay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, I’d say Robin, but I don’t think she’s looked twice in my direction all night.” 

“I haven’t,” the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her. 

You have no idea how she’s tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you. 

“So,” you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes don’t meet yours, “Not just for me, cowboy.” 

He’s distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though you’ve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.

In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head. 

He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited. 

It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddie’s head. 

“Hey!” he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, “I didn’t say the hat is what I wanted to take off.” 

“Took too long,” you shrug innocently. 

“Yeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.

You should probably behave yourself. 

“No.”

But this is more fun. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, “No?”

“No,” you confirm a second time. 

And you’re done with this game of back and forth. 

The hat’s staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and it’s staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, “Surely you know about the hat rule.” 

Damn right, you know about the hat rule.

You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, “The hat rule? Please, enlighten me.” 

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” 

Perfect. 

You don’t even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when you’d seen him enter this damn party with the hat on. 

“Yeah?” you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, “Hm. What a shame.”

And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.

You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.

Strip poker doesn’t continue on for long after that.

You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates who’s riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction. 

When you meet Eddie’s gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup. 

Good. 

—

The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.

Which is fine. Really. It doesn’t cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one. 

You’re definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that you’ve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. You’re not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead. 

Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you. 

Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets. 

Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy. 

“So,” Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, “Do we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?” 

“Real drinks,” you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, “Shots are… well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.”

Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night? 

He needed his hat. He couldn’t ignore you the entire night. 

“You’re right,” Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have us a round.” 

Nancy’s smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze on her way past her. 

Where the fuck is Eddie? 

“Did you see where the guys ran off to?” you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab. 

Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, “Honestly? I have no idea.” 

Fuck. 

As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head. 

“Trying to find a certain cowboy?” 

“What?” you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? “I mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.” 

“Should have just given him your ears for an even trade,” Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, “I’m sure he’ll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s too focused on what everyone’s costumes are as long as they’re… well…”

“Slutted out,” you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy. 

You fucked up. You shouldn’t have taken his hat. 

“Exactly!” she’s excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, “Look, free shots!” 

The free shots don’t do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.

You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke. 

“You know what they say,” he’s flirting – he’s using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and it’s clear he’s fucking flirting, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steve’s apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.

He’s stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her. 

“If you’re a cowboy,” she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, “Then where’s your hat?” 

Well, that’s as good of a queue for your arrival if any. 

“Good question,” you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, “Where is your hat, cowboy?” 

You’d expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesn’t. 

He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, “Well, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.” 

The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, “I think…. I’m gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”

You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave. 

You’ve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isn’t even phased. 

“Been lookin’ for you,” you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, “Thought you might have gone home without your hat.” 

“Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten about the rule, you know.” 

Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips. 

“No?” you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, “Good thing I haven’t either.” 

He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, “You haven’t? Then that means you’ll be giving it back, right?” 

Over my dead body. 

You’re on a mission tonight. You’ll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or you’ll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. It’s up to him. 

You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, “Not a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once you’re done playing around.”

As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried he’s about to steal the hat back now, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip. 

From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat. 

“I do, don’t I?” he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. “I don’t think I’m the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.” 

Does he think you’re joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you? 

You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were. 

Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. “It’s okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.” 

Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins you’re desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again. 

“I’m not playing,” you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if you’d be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. “Whenever you get that through your big head, come find me.” 

“Big head?” he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. “Who says I have a big head?” 

“I do, as the one wearing your hat,” you readjust it for emphasis. 

You thought the tension had misted away until he’s smirking, tsking a little, “Oh, thought you meant the other one.” 

It’s a replay of the scene in Steve’s apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. You’re the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what he’s just said. 

“Bastard,” you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you. 

A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad. 

—

You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie. 

You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.

A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, you’d catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him. 

You never did. You’d look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished. 

That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head. 

You’re starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. You’d jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you weren’t prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and you’d be reminding him that you wore his hat. 

You’d be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you. 

When the night begins to wane, you’ve already talked yourself out of it all. 

“I’m heading out,” you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where you’ve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, “I’m getting way too tired.” 

“What?” your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, “No! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-”

“Robs,” you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, “It’s seriously okay. You’re having fun! I’m just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was like…. An hour ago.” 

You highly doubt you’ll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadn’t talked yourself out of your perfect plan. 

Maybe, imagining Eddie’s hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises. 

“I…” she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, “Okay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?” 

Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddie’s going to be there.

“Sure,” you lie, already knowing he will be there, “Just text me.” 

With that, you make your grand escape. 

Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy – stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-

“Where do you think you’re going, Kitty?” 

You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously. 

“Home,” you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. You’d figured you wouldn’t see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Smoke break,” he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, “It’s hard work, keeping you entertained all night.” 

You scoff, falling back into what’s almost a normal rhythm for you two, “You were not the one keeping me entertained all night.” 

“I hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.” 

“I did!” you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. “Robin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.” 

“I watched you swat a guy’s hands away not once, but three times.” 

“Unsolicited touching isn’t a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.” 

Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Damn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.” 

“Why do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?” you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, it’s nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but he’s a friend.

And maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Oh, no, yeah. You’d be posting my bail.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’ve got my hat, ” he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldn’t mention it again, “Kind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking of….” 

You already know what he’s about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night – or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.

Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend. 

“I’m gonna need that back, sweetheart.”

At least he’s asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why he’s asking rather than taking. 

The looks across the room. The way he’d been unbothered by the girl he’d been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when he’d been provided ample opportunity. 

He thinks it’s a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isn’t for him. He’s giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this. 

And fuck, you really want this. 

“Nope,” you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. “My hat now, cowboy.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. “Is that so?” 

“Yep.”

Another ding, another buzz of your phone.

Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule. 

“That your ride?” he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car. 

You glance over your shoulder, “Pretty sure it is, yeah.” 

“And you remember the hat rule?” 

Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten – you’re still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt you’ll be slipping anything on after it. “I do.”

“Great,” those hot hands you’d been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “In that case, that’s my pussy now.” 

His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere you’ve only dreamt of. 

You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride – you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling. 

“After you, kitty,” he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first. 

In that case, that’s my pussy now.

You hope he ruins you. 

In the backseat of the ride, it’s all polite distance and hands to yourself. You can’t even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head. 

Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips. 

Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out. 

Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him. 

Eddie simply fucking your brains out. 

Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly. 

The entire time, you can see Eddie’s hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you. 

It’s a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat. 

Slowly warming the water, you start off simple – playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here. 

You’ve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. You’re going to have fun with it. 

He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull you’ve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold it’s going to feel against your skin. 

You can only imagine the imprints it’ll leave if he grabs your hips just right. 

“You know,” the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, “You guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think it’s just barely picking up now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, “I think you’re right. It is getting pretty late-”

He’s entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target. 

His thigh. 

Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction. 

You’re looking straight ahead. 

There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where you’d learned Eddie had… sensitive knees. You’d been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, he’d nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.

You’d seen the tent in his jeans then. You’d just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but you’re quick to slide it even higher. 

His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser. 

“Nothing,” you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. “Absolutely nothing at all.” 

The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher. 

And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.

By the time you’re five minutes out from your place, you’ve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know he’s catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips – you’re pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up. 

You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather. 

And then he flips the script. 

You’re so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. It’s not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament you’ve gotten into. 

Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddie’s hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear. 

Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely. 

“What?” he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench. 

You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Still playing games I see.” 

In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when he’s this close, it’s a hopeless battle.

When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when you’d first crawled into the backseat?

You’re trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. It’s all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up. 

He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and you’re the one coughing now. 

“Had enough?” he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them. 

“Never.”

You almost think you’ve won when his knuckle pulls back. 

But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles. 

You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh. 

The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, “You sure about that, Kitty?” 

You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment. 

“I-”

“We’re here!” the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. You’re both visibly flustered – you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddie’s chest and neck. 

“Thanks,” Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open. 

A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before he’s grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him. 

You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it. 

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring. 

“Here, let me-” he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one you’re looking for. 

“I’ve got it-” you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. “Shit.” 

You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. There’s no real reason for you to do it, but you do – you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.

Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much he’s been biting them. 

You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your building’s hallway. 

You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides – the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a stranger’s car. 

“Like what?” you’re dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him. 

“Like you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.” 

That’s a new one. That’s a vision that hadn’t come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night. 

It sends your clit throbbing. 

You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors won’t hear as you ask, “Would you? If I asked nicely?” 

He doesn’t let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like you’ve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs. 

No need to say it – you know he would. You probably wouldn’t even have to ask nicely. 

You’re staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you – where he needs you. 

One second, you’re pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, he’s managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment. 

Hidden from the world, and you’re still reeling as you wonder what it’d be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name. 

Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, “Sweetheart.”

A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front door’s lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe – but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only. 

Your body isn’t your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesn’t even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddie’s pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands can’t undo it fast enough. You’re about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you. 

“Hey,” he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.”

Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and you’re quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy – right?” you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his. 

His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. “That’s right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?” 

Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off? 

Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours. 

And - oh.

Oh. 

That surely didn’t feel like you were scaring him off. 

You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived. 

He wants this. You want him. 

“I’m not a very patient person,” you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where he’d held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth. 

His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey. 

“That’s okay,” he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, “I can teach you, baby.”

Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words. 

You’ve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, you’d wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time he’d pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, you’d wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette you’d witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didn’t want to find funny but did – you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face. 

“Can’t the lesson wait until tomorrow?” you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths. 

“Nope,” he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, “But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about tomorrow.” 

A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth – it’s a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesn’t feel very patient. 

But you can’t. Eddie’s taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards. 

Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest. 

He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later. 

“Figured you might want a more comfortable ride,” he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.

You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasn’t the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along. 

You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience. 

His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and you’re growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really don’t care. 

“By all means,” you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, “Take your seat, Cowboy.” 

He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants. 

The best seat in the house, as far as you’re concerned. 

“You just gonna keep starin’,” he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, “Or you gonna get over here?” 

His words are all you need. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels – the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right. 

“There,” he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, “Now we’re both in our seats.” 

When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.

“What happened to being patient?” you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, “Thought you were gonna take your time with me-”

“Between you and me, I’m not gonna last,” he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings you’d been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, “Been dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.” 

Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you. 

“What?” 

Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He’s wanted this, too? This entire time? 

Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, “I mean- I just-”

“Munson,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re telling me, this entire time, you’ve been flirting with me?” 

Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as you’d thought, or simple for show? You’d so cluelessly assumed he’d never used that tone with you because he’d never genuinely flirted with you – and yet, it seems, he’d never used that tone because he’d been genuinely flirting with you. 

“I-” his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, “Maybe?” 

“Maybe?” you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, “My God, we’re fucking idiots.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who stole my hat-”

“I like you, dumb ass,” you state plainly, “I wanted this for a while, too.” 

He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, “What?” 

“Been thinking about this, too,” your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way he’s looking at you, “Thinking about you and your lips. Thinking ‘bout your hands and the places they’d go,” as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, “Thought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good they’d feel inside me.” 

His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, he’s placing his hat back atop your head. 

That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed. 

He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress. 

“Nice and slow,” he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. “Got it, kitty?” 

You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss. 

Your dress is up to your waist, and you don’t know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. It’s impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. He’d probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared. 

“Oh, and these?” his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, “Those definitely have to come off.” 

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” 

You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence. 

He’s fucking perfect. You’re sure there’s others who disagree, but you’d pay them no mind. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours. 

You make a show of taking off your panties only once he’s properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience he’d prattled on about. 

You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them. 

“Seems a bit unfair that I’m the only one undressing,” you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.

“Yeah, well,” he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, “One of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.”

“Take off the vest, Eddie.” 

Your command is velvet, and he’s quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor. 

“And the boxers.” 

You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does. 

The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color you’ve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of  precum slip down his shaft. 

He’s pretty, even in the fucking pants. 

Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before you’ve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that you’d trace your tongue over for hours if he let you. 

“Gonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?” 

He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare. 

He’s right though, and you’d rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission. 

Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind. 

You could have prepared yourself more, but you’d already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive. 

The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Feel good, baby?” he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out. 

You don’t answer him as you both moan out. 

You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly. 

It’s better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddie’s cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his. 

“Go ahead,” he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, “Ride your cowboy, kitty. Don’t make me ask twice.” 

Nice. And. Slow.

Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. You’re about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you. 

“No, no, no,” he’s chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, “C’mon, now. We both know that’s not how you ride.” 

His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips. 

“Do it like this, sweetheart.”

He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern. 

Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly. 

The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull. 

This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but it’s getting you there. 

At some point, Eddie’s grip on your hips slips, but it’s fine – you’ve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat. 

You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head. 

Just like a cowboy. 

“Like this?” you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, “Just like that. Keep- keep going just,” he thrusts up, “Like,” another thrust, “That.” 

You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. There’s a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .

A hand on your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he won’t. 

“You like that?” his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck. 

You nod.

“Tell me with your words,” he commands.

“I like it,” you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. “I like it so much, baby.” 

When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath. 

“You like that,” you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. “Wanna be my baby, Munson?” 

“Always have,” he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, “Since the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.

It was serious. And if you’d just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago. 

Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. You’ve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and it’s your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it – his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you. 

You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory. 

Your touch is driving him insane; it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you. 

It’s when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that he’s finally a goner. 

“‘M close,” he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, Eddie.” 

Maybe it’s the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue. 

Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, he’s beautiful. 

Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips. 

Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude – a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when it’s said in Eddie’s desperate tone. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, “Shit.”

You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, “Sounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.” 

His eyes shoot open, and for a second, you’re terrified.

Those aren’t the eyes of someone satisfied. 

“You didn’t cum.”

“What?”

“You,” he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You don’t miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, “Did not cum.” 

You hadn’t really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. You’d been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips. 

“It’s fine,” you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you aren’t. “I can-”

“You’re not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.” 

And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasn’t racing as far away from you as you’d believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him. 

“Get on all fours for me, baby.” 

Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.

When you don’t move to follow his command immediately, he’s using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how you’re reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.

You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but you’re cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass. 

A silent command this time, and you’re finally listening. 

You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when- 

“I’ll be taking that,” For the first time since you’d stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, he’s smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, “You can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.”

“At least once?” you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak. 

He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass – right where an imprint of his hand still sings, “At least. By all means, if you feel the need, don’t hesitate to give me a few. God knows you’ve earned it.” 

You don’t have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt. 

Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously. 

“Oh, God,” you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.

He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.

“Don’t be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.” 

And let him hear you, you do. 

Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, you’re chanting his name. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, “Your fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.” 

Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, “Say my name again.” 

You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more. 

More, more, more. 

There’s nothing nice and slow about this. You’re chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way. 

Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises. 

You really, really don’t give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap. 

Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until he’s flipping you back over. 

You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge – lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears. 

You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs. 

He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, it’s all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him. 

The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddie’s back, almost effectively trapping him in place.

You cum hard for him. 

You’re entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows who’s responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.

He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until you’re physically having to shove him away. 

Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body. 

“There,” you don’t even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction – his voice is dripping in it. “Now you can keep the hat.” 

One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all. 

“I’m not sure I’ve earned it,” you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, “Pretty sure I didn’t break you when I made you cum.”

“Oh, you did,” he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, “Just in a different way.” 

You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though he’s scared you might disappear. 

“Well,” you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, “Good.” 

Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Give me a few minutes to recover,” you insist, all but nuzzling into him, “I’m sure I’ll have a smartass comeback for you once I’m…” you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air. 

The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.

All the things you’ve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality. 

He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

“Am not,” you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content. 

“Am too,” he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, “It’s okay. You can. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, “Promise, cowboy?” 

“Absolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?” 

You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world. 

Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddie’s breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table. 

Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.

[ichigosatsuki]

I normally don't post/reblog stuff like this since I fucking hate politics and I try to avoid it like the plague. But I'm legit scared for the future of America.

I'm scared for my fellow women who might become future SA victims and are forced to carry full term

I'm scared for my fellow Hispanics and hell ALL immigrants either losing their jobs, becoming homeless, or worse getting deported when they were promised shelter and a new opportunity for their children in the "New World"

Only to be told it merely temporary, be ripped away from their now established homes in this New World. Being sent "back to their country" and sometimes even being ripped away from their own family in the process

I'm scared for my fellow LGBTQIA+ that will be denied the help or medical assistance they need. Being in constant fear if the next day might be their last due to crazy folks viewing them as monsters and wanting to 'purge' them or hell sadly more often than not..

The person would kill themselves out of bullying or not finding any support to help them (emotionally and mentally wised)

I fear for people with autism like my little sister or fellow people with mental disabilities that are being portrayed as 'a virus' and will be either declined health care or people will claim that those will become "the next serial killer" cause of the lack of knowledge or understanding. Merely just assuming from what gross portrayals they heard/saw in media and taking it as law

I don't have children, but I still have fear for the new generation. I fear for my young cousins now having to grow up faster than they should, due to how tragically wicked and twisted the world has become in such a short time. Now, they have to be overly cautious and paranoid over their fellow neighbors.

Again I will reiterate that I FUCKING HATE politics but understand there's a reason why we're scared. Why we're worried about what will happen to us, our future children, and even our future grandchildren

We are not overreacting, we are all humans and we're all suffering. Whether you're on the left side or the right.

In the end we are all suffering and we need to work together to make both America and the rest of the world a better place.

elon musk did a nazi salute twice at the inauguration, and republicans are defending him.

trump revoked executive order 11246, which prohibited discrimination.

trump put all dei employees on leave to be fired.

trump blamed the dc plane crash on dei.

trump banned all lgbtq+ flags from being hung in government buildings.

trump ordered the pentagon to cancel celebration of mlk jr. day, black history month, women's history month, holocaust remembrance day, asian american pacific islander heritage month, lgbtq+ pride month, juneteenth, women's equality day, national hispanic heritage month, national disability employment awarenessmonth, and national american indian heritage month.

trump rolled back biden’s executive order to lower prescription drug costs for people using medicare and medicaid.

trump rescinded the $35 cap on insulin, and prices are expected to rise to $1500 a month.

trump ordered the national institutes of health to cancel their review panels on cancer research.

trump ended the guidelines to prevent ai misuse. the guidelines prevent many things, but notably it prevents production of ai child pornography.

when sean hannity asked trump about the economy, he said “i don’t care”, after campaigning with the economy as his main talking point.

trump has withdrawn the us from the world health organization.

trump is ordering health agencies to stop reporting on bird flu and halt publications of scientific reports.

trump has pardoned over 1500 people who stormed the capitol on january 6th.

trump changed mount denali back to mount mckinley.

trump signed an executive order to rename the gulf of mexico to gulf of america.

trump shut down cbp one, an app which granted legal entry to 1 million+ immigrants.

trump is allowing ice raids at churches and elementary schools.

trump announced plans to declare a national emergency at the us-mexico border.

trump signed an executive order to expand the use of the death penalty.

trump disbanded the school safety board that works to prevent school shootings. it was comprised of survivors, educators, and gun violence prevention advocates and formed after the school shooting in parkland.

trump withdrew from the paris climate act.

trump revoked all protections for transgender troops in the us military.

trump rescinded executive orders made by biden that benefited and protected women, lgbtq+ people, black americans, hispanic americans, asian americans, native hawaiians, and pacific islanders.

trump is attempting to make it legal to refuse to hire or fire pregnant women.

multiple state legislators are drafting bills to allow the punishment for abortion to be the death penalty.

trump pardoned 23 individuals convicted under the freedom of access to clinic entrances (FACE) act for their anti-abortion activism, including oftentimes violent protests at abortion clinics.

trump signed an executive order allowing deportation of foreign students who they believe express support for hamas or hezbollah.

trump announced that the us government will from here on out only recognize male and female as sexes. intersex is not legally recognized anymore.

trump refused to swear on the bible during his inauguration. (i’ve gotten some comments about this specific point. i didn’t include it because i’m christian, because i’m not. i’m agnostic. i included it because he’s the first president in history to refuse to swear on ANYTHING, bible or not. in the bible it teaches that the only person who cannot touch the bible is the antichrist, yet that on TOP of everything else will never convince his followers that he’s unfit.)

the trump administration paused health communications to prevent the fda from announcing food recalls.

andy ogles drafted a constitutional amendment to allow trump to be president for a third term.

georgia republican congressman mike collins called for the deportation of new jersey born mariann budde, the bishop who urged trump to “have mercy” on the lgbtq+ community and immigrants during a service at the national cathedral.

six states (arizona, idaho, iowa, kansas, mississippi, and north dakota) are planning on challenging obergefell v. hodges, which would end same-sex marriage nationwide. about a dozen more states have representatives are also considering filing similar resolutions.

amazon revoked protections for lgbtq+ and black employees.

the cdc has removed their hiv prevention page.

the united states state department has officially changed its “travelers with special conditions” page which previously said “lgbtqi+ travelers” to “lgb travelers”, completely getting rid of the tqi+.

every single republican told us we were overreacting. trump swore he had nothing to do with project 2025 yet continues implementing details outlined in it. not a single person has the right to tell us we’re being dramatic anymore.

hope “cheaper eggs and gas” was worth it.

[minswriting]

Head Empty, No Thoughts - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You can’t focus properly because all you can think about is how much you desperately needed to be railed. Hotch, being the amazing boss that he is, helps his agent with quite enthusiasm.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, boss/agent dynamics, soft!dom aaron, praise kink, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, doggy style, aaron’s an ass man what can i say? porn with no plot. not proof read because that’s lame

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Please make sure to reblog to support your content creators!! @nachrosas helped me with making sure this story is good lol. i hope you all enjoy! if you have any thoughts, feel free to send them in my inbox!

To say you’ve been having issues concentrating was an understatement. For the past few weeks, you’ve been going to work, trying your best to focus on cases, and yet, you could hardly concentrate on anything you’re meant to do. You simply follow orders and stay silent for the most part. It’s not that you didn’t want to work. You adored your job, even if it gets really hard sometimes. Your team is like your family, and you usually contribute to profiles and other parts of the case.

The issue was that it’s been months since you’ve had sex and it’s making you very grouchy and unable to think about anything else.

You craved to be touched, to be fucked so hard that you could cry from pleasure. Your last hookup, many months ago, hadn’t even been good. He didn’t make you cum once so you had to resort to using your fingers. And your fingers and toys can only do so much compared to being properly dicked down.

Currently, the team is on a case in Tampa, Florida. After a series of homicidal home invasions, you guys had been called to investigate. You tried your best to remain focused, drinking coffee, listening to Hotch giving orders, and hearing everyone give their ideas on the profile. And yet, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t give your perspective. You simply just listened with a neutral look on your face.

By the end of the night, when everyone had gone to the hotel to get some rest, Aaron had stopped you in the lobby to talk to you before you could go up to your assigned room. He put a hand on your arm, causing you to turn around to look at your boss. His brown eyes looked at you with concern despite his stoic facade. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, furrowing his eyebrows as he spoke.

You nodded your head, giving Aaron a small shrug. “Of course,” You replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been very quiet the past few weeks,” Aaron said, looking at you as though he were analyzing your every move, profiling you. “Tense, too.”

“Well, I think we’re all tense all of the time, Hotch,” You joked, trying to change the subject. Of course, Hotch would notice that you weren’t yourself. You work with a bunch of profilers, and while the others always try not to profile the team, Aaron was one who usually profiled the team to ensure mental stability out on the field. It was his job to make sure you were all doing alright. However, you didn’t particularly want to tell your boss that you’ve been so…distant from work simply because you need to get railed. That would be awkward and unprofessional.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you, noticing the obvious change in subject. “You’re not usually so quiet during cases. Your insights are valuable on this team, and if something is plaguing you about your position, I need to make sure you’re doing alright, Agent.”

“Hotch, I promise it’s nothing related to the job,” You sighed, tilting your head. “I’ve just been distracted and frustrated, but it’s due to personal matters.”

“Perhaps talking about what’s bothering you could make you feel better?” Aaron pointed out.

You shook your head no, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as you thought about the idea of telling your boss about your personal issue. “I-it’s not something I should talk about,” You cleared your throat. “Especially with you.”

Aaron looked at you with a look of confusion, noticing how your cheeks got red. “Especially with me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed once more. “What do you mean?”

You groaned internally at yourself with a small grimace on your face due to embarrassment. You realized that Aaron wouldn’t relent. He would interrogate you until the answer came out. So you decided to say “fuck it” figuratively. “I haven’t had sex in months,” you said bluntly. “And it’s been all I can focus on. But I’ll figure it out and I apologize it’s been affecting my work. I’m going to go to my room now.” And with that, you turned around and quickly walked away, not waiting for your boss to respond.

When you had gotten to your room, you quickly opened the door and closed it behind yourself, throwing your bag to the side as you quickly went to bed, burying your face into the pillow and letting out a muffled scream. You took a deep breath before turning onto your back and looking up at the ceiling. To say you were officially embarrassed was an understatement. You were mortified. You had confessed to your attractive boss that you hadn’t had sex in a long while and that it was affecting the way you worked.

With a sigh, you got up from the bed and went to your go-bag, grabbing a lavender purple nightgown before going to the bathroom and taking a shower. And once you had gotten settled into bed, reading a book, there was a sudden knock on your hotel room door. You checked the time, noticing how it was after midnight.

You closed your book, putting it onto the nightstand before getting out of bed. You smoothed out your nightgown before walking over to the door. You opened the door a crack, just to see who was standing there. Aaron stood there, still dressed in his suit but without the jacket. You opened the door all of the way. You immediately blushed as the embarrassment came rushing back. “Hi,” You said quietly, feeling exposed as you were only wearing your nightgown while Aaron was still in his work clothes.

“Can I come in?” He asked, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place. You didn’t say anything as you stepped to the side, allowing Aaron to walk in. You closed the door behind him, biting your lip in nervousness. You turned to look at Hotch, not saying anything as he looked at you. He not-so-subtly looked you up and down before meeting your eyes. “You’ve been frustrated,” was all he said.

You nodded your head, heart pounding in your chest. “I have,” you said hoarsely.

He paused for a moment, as though he were thinking of what to say next. “You know,” he began. “If there’s an issue with one of the members of my team, it’s my duty to find a solution.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “This isn’t something for you to find a solution to.”

Aaron let out a sigh, a break in his usual stoic demeanor. Being outright with himself was hard as he usually hid his emotions and thoughts from those around him. “I’m saying that I can help you,” he exclaimed, taking a step towards you.

“What?” You asked, still clearly confused but you had an inkling of what this was about. As Aaron got closer, you stayed put.

And when he reached you, he tentatively put a hand on your cheek, running his thumb across your skin. “I can help you,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched at Aaron’s touch. You felt dazed as you looked into his brown eyes. “Hotch-“ you whispered, not quite knowing what else to say. You couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, fighting the urge to just lean in and kiss him. Your gaze moved back to his eyes.

“What sort of boss would I be if I allowed my best agent to wallow in her frustration?” He asked huskily, leaning in, his breath fanning over your face. All you could smell was Aaron’s cologne and the faint smell of whiskey. And without waiting for your response, Aaron’s lips were on yours, kissing you tentatively as if he were afraid you’d pull away. But when you made a soft noise and kissed Aaron back, he deepened the kiss, moving his other hand to your waist and pulling you closer to him.

You didn’t quite know what to do with yourself other than to kiss Aaron. You couldn’t deny the obvious attraction you felt for your boss. You had kept it a secret, not wanting to ruin the professionalism that had been built between the two of you. But now, as Aaron’s chapped lips moved against your soft ones, you could hardly find yourself to care. Especially when it has been far too long since you’ve done anything.

Aaron’s hand moved from your hip to the bottom of your nightgown, lifting it up a bit. After a few minutes of kissing one another deeply, Aaron pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop at any point,” he whispered.

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered back.

And without any hesitation, Aaron kissed you again. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you graciously parted your lips for him, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. His hand went underneath your nightgown, slowly trailing upwards. Your breath hitched when his fingers reached the waistband of your panties. He pulled away from the kiss, moving to kiss your jawline and neck as his fingers slipped underneath the waistband.

His middle finger touched your slit, feeling the wetness that had pooled. You gasped at the feeling, bringing your hands to Aaron’s shoulders. “You’re so wet,” he said against your skin, trailing his finger from your hole to your clit before he began to gently rub circles against the nub.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. Aaron moved his head so he could look at you. He continued to rub soft circles with his middle finger before dipping it into your hole, gently inserting the digit. The way your body jolted at the intrusion made Aaron chuckle breathily. He began moving his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, getting you used to the feeling. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you. Your lips were parted as he gently moved his finger. And after a few moments, he added a second one, immediately curling his fingers. You let out a choked moan, maintaining eye contact with Aaron, as you held onto him. You felt drunk on lust, finally getting pleasured by someone other than yourself. “A-Aaron,” you moaned, breathing heavily.

“Beautiful girl,” he said, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Does it feel good?” He asked as his fingers moved at a slow pace inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each movement.

You nodded your head.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” He said with a small smirk on his lips as he moved his fingers inside of you faster.

A shiver went down your back at the praise, an action that didn’t go unmissed by Aaron’s eyes. You began moaning louder, feeling that familiar heat building inside of you as Aaron’s digits moved with purpose. “I-I’m so close,” you whined.

Aaron hummed, keeping the pace. “Go ahead, baby, let go for me,” he said breathily.

And with a few more pumps of his fingers, you came, legs shaking as you tried to hold yourself up as you came undone on his fingers. Aaron’s free arm immediately moved to wrap around your waist, holding you upright. You threw your head back, whining with pleasure. When you finished you opened your eyes, looking at Aaron as you breathed heavily.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, bringing the digits to his mouth and sucking on them until they were clean. He moaned at the taste, the sounding sending sparks down to your pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from looking down, seeing the bulge in Aaron’s pants. He looked so painfully hard and you wanted to help him just as he was helping you. You brought your hand to his bulge but before you could touch it, Aaron grabbed your hand. “Not yet,” he said, licking his lips. “Tonight’s about you.” And with that, he gently pushed you over to the mattress, making you sit on the edge.

You watched as Aaron got on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his chocolate brown eyes. He lifted your nightgown just enough to reveal your panties. He put his fingers on the waistband, pulling them down and off of you. “I need to taste you, baby,” Aaron said, licking his lips as your bare cunt was revealed to him. “Is that alright?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, looking at him with anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hummed before spreading your legs, burying his head between your thighs as he dived right in. His tongue licked a stripe on your pussy.

You immediately whined, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s tongue began to lap around your pussy. He circled your clit before putting his lips on the nub and sucking gently. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned as you entangled a hand in his hair, tugging at his locks. Aaron let out a groan against your cunt, sending vibrations through it. “Feels so good, Aaron,” you whined, throwing your head back in pleasure.

What was at first gentle quickly turned into Aaron eating you out like a starved man as he quickly got addicted to the taste of your pussy. He sucked on your clit, lapped his tongue around your cunt, dipped his tongue into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He was messy with it in the best way possible.

It didn’t take long until you came for a second time that night, clenching your thighs around Aaron’s head as you arched your back and tugged at his hair, moaning his name so loudly that you were sure anyone sleeping in the room next to yours could hear.

And when you came down from your high, you relaxed against the mattress, allowing your back to fall onto the soft fabric. You breathed heavily, your chest moving up and down. Aaron pulled away from your cunt, his face absolutely covered in your juices. “You alright?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded your head, looking at Aaron with a small lazy smile. “So good,” you giggled gently.

Aaron chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. “We aren’t done yet, baby,” he exclaimed, tossing his dress shirt to the side before undoing the belt of his pants. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

You bit your lip as you watched Aaron undress. He was so fit and toned. You watched in anticipation as he tossed his belt to the side before unzipping his pants. He pulled them down along with his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach. He was so hard, his cock red and leaking with precum. You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips as you looked at it because he was hung, to say the least. “You’re so big,” you whispered in fascination. “Will it fit?” You’ve never had sex with anyone as big and thick as Aaron.

“You flatter me,” Aaron exclaimed, a teasing smile on his lips. He gave himself a few tugs before walking over to you. “We’ll make it fit.” He said simply. “On your hands and knees.” He commanded.

And you obliged without hesitation. You turned yourself so that you were on your hands and knees, your ass in the air. You felt a light smack on your ass, sending tingles down your spine. “God, you’re beautiful,” Aaron said as he massaged the flesh of your ass.

He then grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him before lining his cock to your pussy. He teased himself and you, spreading your wetness along his tip, causing him to hiss in pleasure and for you to let out a whimper.

He then lined himself to your entrance, slowly easing his cock inside of you. You whimpered again, this time louder as Aaron stretched you. The slight pain you felt was worth it as you were finally being filled for the first time in months. And then Aaron bottomed out, you felt him pressing so deeply inside of you in a way you had never felt before.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Aaron groaned, keeping himself still.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whined in response. Both of you stayed still for a bit, allowing you time to adjust. And when the sting subsided, you let out a breath. “You can move.”

Aaron gently pulled his hips back before slamming into you again. He was slow with it but hard, making you really feel his cock inside of you. You yelped in pleasure, eyes closing. Aaron had one hand on your hip, the other on your right buttcheek as he thrusted into you at a slow pace.

“F-faster.”

“Say please.” Aaron replied, keeping the slow pace.

“Faster, please,” your voice hitched as Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you again.

“Good girl,” He said before moving his hips faster. His cock began hitting your g-spot deadass, causing you to moan much louder than before.

“O-oh my,” you moaned. You stopped holding yourself up with your arms, allowing your head to fall forward onto the sheets as your hands gripped them. Aaron’s pace was brutal as he very much did not hold himself back. This is exactly what you meant by needing to be railed. “So good!” Your voice was muffled from the sheets.

“You feel so good, my pretty girl,” Aaron groaned, watching the way your ass bounced with the harshness of his thrusts. He smacked it again, this time harder than before.

You whined in response, pressing yourself against Aaron as you began meeting his thrusts with your own movements. Your nightgown was ridden up to your chest, the straps falling from your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Aaron groaned, tilting his head back as he fucked you. You were so wet and tight around his cock. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to last long. He swallowed, moving back to look at you. You were absolutely gorgeous in the position you were in.

The whole scene was quite obscene and pornographic. Your ass was up, your back arched as your head was buried in the mattress. The sounds of your moans filled the air along with the loud smacking of skin hitting skin. Not to mention the fact that your pussy was so wet that you could hear the noises of it with every thrust of Aaron’s cock.

You felt that burn building once more as Aaron’s cock moved inside of you. Your eyes were rolled back from the pleasure as he fucked you so good. “I-I’m so close,” you mewled, your walls clenching around Aaron’s length.

“Ah,” Aaron groaned. “Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” He said, putting both hands on your hips as he drilled himself into you. “My beautiful girl,” he said with each thrust.

When your orgasm hit, it hit you hard. You came with a choked sobbing moan that you were sure other people on the floor definitely heard. Your legs shook aggressively as you clenched tightly around Aaron’s length, moaning his name repeatedly. Aaron fucked you through your orgasm, keeping up his brutal pace as he chased his own high. With a loud groan and moan of your name, Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you as he came, spilling his seed.

And when he finished, he pulled out and you both collapsed on the mattress, Aaron lying down next to you. Neither of you spoke as you breathed heavily, basking in the post-orgasmic feeling. After a few minutes, when your breathing finally caught, you lifted your head to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you, and you both couldn’t help the small chuckles that left your lips as Aaron pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

The next morning, when everyone had met at the station to continue working on the case, you were much more like yourself. You were more focused, engaged with the team, giving your input on the profile. Everyone just assumed you had slept well. But every time you glanced at Hotch, there was a subtle exchange of thoughts as you both would briefly recall the previous night. A quiet agreement that you both would seek one another out for relief.

Because what kind of agent would you be if you couldn’t ease your boss’s stress?

[whiskis]

A/N: Hi there! For those who don’t know, first part is here. (If that link doesn't work, try suscribing for free to Patreon and check this one) Enjoy!

Orc professor (part 2): late for class

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism (kinda), oral sex, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

“If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?”

His words still echoed in your brain when you were getting dressed the next morning. You were already wet, and you fingered yourself to the memory of his dick in your pussy last evening. You were a bit sore, but the fact that you could still feel him made everything more intense, hotter… sexier. And it made everything so much better.

You decided to wear your pencil skirt this time, and blame it on your bad luck, but you spilled your coffee all over it. Cursing yourself, you changed as fast as possible, but not fast enough that you could get to class early as you knew you should.

By the time you arrived, he was writing something on the board. “Good morning, sir,” you enunciated very slowly, looking at him for directions as you saw the other few students entering behind you.

He turned around and stared at you with such intensity you felt your whole body react. You were almost panting, biting your lip not to groan out loud. “Good morning. You can sit down while I go to my office for a second.”

The other two students nodded and he passed you on his way to the door. He looked at you in such a way that you knew what you had to do without him having to say anything. You let your stuff on your usual seat and smiled at the girl who sat next to you, mumbling about going to get some coffee before class. She nodded with a smile and you had to stop yourself from running to his office.

You arrived just in time for him to pull you inside by the waist, pressing you against the door and kissing you senseless just like he did yesterday, his tusks feeling incredible against your jaw. His hands were traveling up and down your body, groping your ass and your thighs as he grunted against your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back and passing his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You were late. And I thought you regretted what happened yesterday. I was freaking out, little human. And then you walked out like nothing happened looking hot enough to eat and smelling like me… Good goddess. Do you know what you do to me?” He pressed his hips against your middle and you moaned at the feel of his huge hard on.

“I- I can feel it,” you stuttered, your voice quivering when his hands squeezed your ass, parting your cheeks and letting one of his fingers rub over your lace covered asshole.

“You have no idea. And now I can’t even fuck you properly. I can’t ruin you the way I want because you were late.” He punctuated each word with a squeeze and a roll of his hips. You panted, so horny you were about to burst and he didn’t even touch you. “Goddess, you smell so fucking good…” He whispered, burying his face on your neck and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry… I- I spilled coffee on my skirt and had to change and then I forgot a book and have to open the door again and…” Your rambling was interrupted by his lip covering yours again, swallowing your explanation as he grunted, his hands massaging your ass-cheeks once again.

“What do you have after my class?” He asked, his breathing labored, almost desperate.

“A couple more classes,” you told him, mentally checking if you could skip any of them. But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. You were a damn good student… Even if you were fucking your way through one of your subjects.

“Shit.” He passed his hand through his hair again, messing it up and making you want to whimper. “Okay, okay. I have classes after lunch, but I’ll be here around four-ish. Does that work for you?” You nodded fervently. “Okay, I expect you to show me how sorry you really are for being late and depriving me from what I was promised.”

“I can… I can give you my panties now,” you offered, feeling the lace sticking to your pussy lips like a second skin because you were that wet.

“I don’t want them. I want you to be feeling how wet I made you all day. I want you to be uncomfortable and thinking about my cock deep inside your pussy until you are so horny you are desperate to come. Until you know how slutty you really are…” You moaned, his words igniting a fire inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. “Now, compose yourself, we have a very interesting class ahead. I’m sure you are dying to know about the survival strategies of cacti,” he said with a laugh, making you let out a choked giggle. You weren’t expecting him to joke. Shit, why did that make him hotter?

The class was boring, but you didn’t even care about it. You didn’t care about anything but the feel of your wet panties against your pussy and his words resonating inside your brain. He made a point of looking directly at you a couple times, going as far as to ask you something about what he was saying, just to huff in annoyance when you didn’t answer correctly. But he smirked in your direction and that was enough to send you spiraling into a thousand of new horny thoughts.

You left his class as fast as you could, trying very hard to look normal when you passed him, but his knowing smile only made your clit pulsate harder, your core clenching around nothing and making you want to beg him to take pity on you and fuck you right then and there. But you were stronger than that, so you left his class on your way to the next one.

You didn’t take a single note the rest of the day, your brain filled with possibilities and images of his hard dick. The feel of his lips against yours, and the ideas of how would feel against your lower lips… Your brain was running a mile per minute, and you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the rub of the lace against your clit. It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time, and by the time four rolled around, you were on the edge and you had to run to his office in need of release.

You knocked rapidly, and when you opened and saw him there, shirt rolled over his big green forearms and glasses pushed down on his nose you almost came right there. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy it wasn’t fair at all.

“Come on in,” he said as soon as you closed the door behind yourself.

You tried to lock it, but he shook his head… Oh shit, that made you even wetter. The idea that you could get caught. That somebody could just walk in and know how much of a slut you were, that you were fucking your professor for a good grade…

You moaned and he chuckled. “Come here, little human, I almost hear your brain short-circuiting.” You walked to him, your steps measured so you wouldn’t fall. Your knees feel like jelly, and your pussy is so wet you are sure he can hear it from the desk. “So… Did you think about what you are going to do to redeem yourself from not meeting your end of our deal this morning?” You nod. “Go ahead, tell me.”

You’d been thinking about it all day. Your whole brain occupied by thoughts of his cock inside of you, against you, spilling in and over you… But there was one thought that surpassed all others. “I- I want to suck you off, sir.”

He smirked, his tusks framing his plush lips in a way that made your clit tingle. “Is that so? But you have such a tiny human mouth, I don’t know if you’d be able to fit me…” He teased, making you blush. You gave him your panties everyday, and that’s what got you to blush, him teasing you… Incredible.

“I will. It will. It will fit, sir,” you stuttered. This orc made your brain so fuzzy you could barely process words correctly anymore. You could barely talk when he was close, especially now that you were moments away from sucking his dick down your throat.

“Prove it then, little slut.”

You dropped to your knees so fast you moaned when you hit the floor, the spark of pain focusing your brain for a second. But the second you touched his big-as-tree-trunks thighs, your brain disconnected again. Only heat and lust left behind. You pulled down his fly in a slow movement, staring up at him as he looked back at you with an indescribable look.

You took his dick out and gasped again. You already saw it, you had it inside of you, but it was nothing compared with the realization that you were about to fit that inside your mouth. Maybe he was right, and it wouldn’t fit.

His eyes were tender when he looked down at you. “Relax, you don’t have to take all of it, just whatever you are comfortable with. I like you submitting to me, but I don’t want to hurt you in any way. Do you understand?” You nodded, relief running down your body and making you even hornier.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And then you launched.

You pulled out your tongue and started mapping the veins of his huge shaft one after the other. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair with such force you could hear the leather breaking. You smiled against his dick and he grunted, one of his hands fisting your hair and urging you where he wanted you more. You complied, you wanted nothing more but to be a good girl for him, a good slutty human for him.

You took his head into your mouth, your lips so stretched it was almost uncomfortable, but you liked it. You loved the feel of his cock inside your mouth, it was exhilarating in a way you weren’t expecting. You weren’t one to like giving head in general, you preferred to go down on girls than guys, but definitely wasn’t your go to activity, but right there… You fucking loved it.

You rolled your tongue around the tip, teasing the underside where you knew he was especially sensitive. He moaned over you, his fist pulling at your hair and making you moan around him, which made him almost whimper and let out a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.

You kept going at it, you couldn’t get past a few centimeters, he was too wide for you to get him to the back of your throat, but by the glassy look in his eyes you understood it was enough. You were messy, your saliva getting everywhere as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was looking down at you reverently, and you couldn’t hold back a few more moans, who made him thrust up accidentally. You pulled back coughing, eyes teary and a few tears rolling down. He groaned at the sigh, and you felt your clit pulsating with your heartbeat. You were so close to coming, you wanted nothing more but to touch yourself. You threw your body to him again, but he stopped you with the hand tangled in your curls.

“I want to fuck your pretty face, would you let me, little slut? Would you let me use you like my personal fuck toy?” You whimpered, nodding against his thigh as he pulled your head back by the hair. “Such a good girl for me, already so needy and desperate. Look at you… You look so dirty like that. Remind me to take a pic so I can enjoy you later,” his words made you emit a guttural moan.

The idea of him taking pics of you like that, make up running and lips swollen… it made you feel hot. It made you feel so horny you could feel your juices dripping down to the floor under you, your panties so wet they couldn’t hold your gushing pussy anymore.

“You like that? You like me having pictures of how pretty you look all fucked up? Why do I even ask, of course you do, you are such a little slut for me. Now open up.” You obeyed and he directed his dick back against your welcoming mouth. “Tap my leg three times if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded again. “Words. How many times?”

“Three. I tap three times if it’s too much,” you repeat, breathless already.

“Good girl.”

And then he started a brutal pace. He used his hold on your hair to direct your movements, moving your head forward until you couldn’t take it further and then retreating. Repeating that process until something inside of you gave out and you felt him slip inside your throat. It was almost too much, you couldn’t breathe, but your eyes rolled back into your head at the sight of him in pleasure.

He pulled back to let you breathe, looking down at you with reverence. “You look so fucked out I want to ruin you. Would you let me ruin you, little human?” You nodded, unable to form words. “Such a good girl for me.” He pulled your head forward and started to fuck your mouth in earnest.

Your brain was fuzzy, your pussy so wet you could feel it dripping down, and your clit asking for attention. The weight of his cock against your tongue, his hand on your hair and his curses over you were driving you insane.

“Touch yourself for me, little human. Come around your tiny fingers. Show me how much you like sucking my orc cock,” his permission was enough, your hand traveling down your body and rubbing frantically against your clit, over the lace.

His pace became erratic, and your fingers rubbed so hard you were almost afraid to set your clit on fire. But it was so good, the combination of sensations so intense you were about to come.

“I’m about to come. Do you want it? Do you want to swallow my come or do you want it in your face, little slut?” You sucked harder, pushing your head further down, swallowing around him to indicate you wanted it. You wanted to swallow him whole.

That was all it took. He growled over you and pushed his dick as far as he could before you felt the first shot of his come in the back of your throat. He pulled back a little to avoid chocking you, the final spurs of his release filling your mouth to the brim, some of it dripping down your chin.

The second he opened his eyes and looked down at you, his dick still in your mouth, you were done. You flicked your clit one last time before you melted, pulling back and spilling the rest of his come over your boobs as you cried out your own release.

Your vision whited out, your ears ringing as you felt your body moving as he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands caressing your back as he whispered sweet nothings that your brain couldn’t process.

He took some tissues from the box on his desk and carefully cleaned your messy face. “You didn’t take the pic,” you told him.

“We didn’t talk about it beforehand. I wouldn’t risk stepping over your possible boundaries like that.” Your heart skipped a beat. “But don’t worry, we’ll have more opportunities if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“We will?” You asked, a bit confused but a spark of hope blooming inside your chest.

“I’m not letting go of your sweet, sweet slutty pussy anytime soon,” he told you, kissing your forehead as his hand traveled down until it met your dripping panties. “I would like this panties now, thank you,” he whispered against your ear, you could sense his smirk on his tone, making you laugh so hard you snorted.

Reminder that you can find all my other stories over @monstersflashlight

[xgremlinxx]

I was literally thinking about this, like nobody from my past is worth being sad about...I was always the one that did or fronted everything, and it still wasn't enough. Hey, i'm not mad, i'm glad they showed their true colors to me.

A lot of them can't tell me that they had better than me, they settled for losers, drug addicts, and selfish bozos. Hey i'm not the greatest but I saw what they went for after me, don't ever tell me I didn't love or try with my whole heart, I saw how you settled for less because of your delusions. But tell me, why should I care when you didn't? lol Such a funny thing. I simply can't be arsed anymore.

yes, nobody is worth being sad about over losing them for me personally except for my parents, sponsoring my old ass letting me squat. I'll love them to the ends of the universe and back.

and nah i dga single fuck about being independent right now...My parents are great, sorry I didn't have fuck ass parents like ya'll. My states economy is dog shit, people making minimum wage to pay for fast food meals. Shit is burning down, inflation is too high. Rents too high, groceries too high, lol I dated a woman that had it so rough they need to sell their pussy...and you know what, I would totally sell dick if it was socially acceptable and celebrated like it is to sell pussy in the year of our lord 2025. LOL If it was in demand, but I wasn't born with a pussy, and lets be honest, thank g0d for that! Ya'll women in the west are beyond cooked, but I get it...Don't agree with it, but I understand.

I'm just being facetious. I could never sell my soul like that. There is literally nothing left in people like that, and it's so sad to see up close, so much sadder than just hearing about it.

Im finna work and stack until things improve. There is no rush. There is still time (famous last words). I'd like to fill the gaps of my character with substance, part of my problem is being too hollow at times, I am not me without passion. I see now safeguarding my vision & protecting peace comes b4 all.

People that carry years long attachments for people that were not good for them, broke up with them ( 5 years ago +) or did them wrong is the most cringe shit ever, quite frankly I'm not trying to be like ya'll.

[witherby]

DUDEEEEE, after reading your little Wayne (who is now a grown up) goes looking for a part time job and after quitting the last job I imagem them getting into a cafe job were both villain and heros goes and there's no fighting in there

Dude what's it like having such an amazing incredible spectacular brain

That's the coolest idea I've ever heard

The Littlest Wayne: Truce Juice

Nobody believes it at first, that your signage is genuine. They think it's a gimmick or a ploy to avoid your shop being targeted by villains if they decide to terrorize the city and start doing massive amounts of property damage again.

"Is it true?" Customers will ask, as they come by to get a smoothie or request a bagel. "You're willing to serve villains?"

And every single time, you smile, hand over their order, and say "yes!" Because you are.

Your family chooses to fight crime under the cover of darkness. They fix Gotham's problems by punching them and throwing them in Blackgate or Arkham. During the day, your father does his best to fund the places that need it the most — infrastructure, homeless shelters, food banks, education — but it's not enough.

You can help the normal citizens as much as you want, but they're still going to be terrorized by the villains that escape the prison and the asylum. They're still going to feel Othered from most of society, which is what drove them to villainy in the first place. Hurting them, pushing back at them, it fixes the short-term problems but never quite nips it in the bud.

Your hope is to treat the criminals like...well, like they're not criminals. Which is why you opened Truce Juice — a little drink cafe in the heart of the city that welcomes everybody, good, bad, and in-between. It's your good-faith experiment you had to beg your father not to intervene in, using either identity, for weeks before he finally agreed.

So, deed in hand, trained employees on staff, and insurance premiums through the fucking roof, you've got a business.

--

It takes a month of service and consistent advertising, but you finally start to see your experiment take shape. A gentleman wearing a half-black, half-white tuxedo walks into your cafe and approaches the counter with visible trepidation, hands stuffed in his pockets and sneering at everybody who makes eye contact with him.

Antiope, the girl currently working the register, clams up a bit, so you send her to the drink station instead and smile at Two-Face's henchman.

"Good morning," you greet him, "welcome to Truce Juice. How can I help you?"

The man looks at you like you've grown a second head. You smile back and gesture to the menu over your head.

"If you need a minute to look at the options, that's fine. I also have handheld menus for better visibility." You pick one up and offer it to him.

"You're actually fuckin' serious," he says, taking his hand out of his pocket. Customers loitering in the cafe flinch back as he does so, but you don't move. He takes the menu from you and glances over it. "...gimme a banana smoothie and a dozen plain bagels. Cream cheese and jelly on the side."

"Sure!" You punch his order into your screen and ring up the total. "Will that be cash or card?"

"What if I didn't wanna pay?" The man smirks. The hand still in his pocket makes a clicking sound. Several customers rush out. You don't move, but the shadow at your feet forms a disk shape and slips underneath the henchman, waiting to suck him into your pocket dimension if he starts getting belligerent.

"Then you don't get the smoothie and bagels," you reply calmly. "I'm running a business, sir. Goods and services are exchanged for money, here."

He clearly wasn't expecting you to say that. He stares at you. You stare back. He blinks incredulously. You blink expectantly back.

"So," you say again, "cash or card?"

"....cash," he mutters, digging into a separate pocket and pulling out his wallet. He hands over a fistful of bills. You ring him up and give him his change.

"Okay! Give us about five minutes. Did you want the bagels toasted?"

The henchman shakes his head. You smile and get to work, the dark disk melting back into your regular shadow. Soon, you're sliding the smoothie and box of bagels across the pick-up counter.

"Here you are. Have a good day!"

The man continues to stare at you like you're some freakish anomaly. You just give him a small nod, then turn to help the next customer brave enough to step inside with him here.

When you check the tip jar later, you see a fistful of hundreds crammed into it.

You feel your heart warm and know you're about to make huge waves in Gotham.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird. 

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy. 

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to. 

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin. 

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead. 

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that. 

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. 

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder. 

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy. 

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit. 

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms. 

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten. 

She needed to let go of him now. 

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys. 

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach. 

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it. 

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy. 

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable. 

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite. 

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen. 

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks. 

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on. 

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart. 

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes. 

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. 

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. 

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out. 

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus. 

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit. 

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half. 

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger. 

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

 “You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now. 

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

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

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf

[sinnamorolly]

random freak hcs for onyyy<3 (18+, nsfw links)

rbgs much appreciated>~<!

def the type to pause mid stroke to swipe his thumb thru the cream at the base of his dick to feed it to you

fs loves breath play. he likes grabbing ur neck, but he lovesss when you choke on his dick instead. likes watching you struggle to swallow it all while you get lightheaded

makes outtttt with your pussy. and i mean he’s a EATER. thigh bites and kisses before he sucks each lip. holds u open nd his tongue doesn’t leave ur poor clit alone for at least half an hour (he likes making u squirt on his face).

this mans physique?😫his dick is already a solid 8.5in, then its fat ontop of that?????!? it took so much prep the first time he tried fucking you

and the motion match the ocean ok! he got that hip roll with the deep grind right against your cervix typa stroke. only picks up his pace and starts fucking u up when you’re close so he can fuck you thru it and give u another one

oh and donttt piss him off bc you will not be heard from for a solid 4 hours and newly in need of several maintenance appointments. he will absolutely fuck out anything yall are feeling and will make you tell him whats wrong while hes in it

if u ever let him nut inside theres just no going back. the image of your pretty pussy dripping his cum is already permanently engraved into his brain

after he’s fucked you a few times, he dont gaf abt them “too bigg” whines no more, youre just stuck taking it. in fact he usually makes a point to grab your hips and press that last inch in. and i dont suggest pushing at them abs too often, he will jus go buy some handcuffs

his favorite position is definitely upright doggy. he can watch your ass jiggle and get deep up inside you all while still being able to reach everything. he be pulling your hair so he can see your crumpled face before giving u some sloppy ass kisses mm mm mm

loves smoking w you beforee

LOVES the noises you make he could literally cum from the sound alone

how he talks to you*.<3

“mm right…..there hm?”

“ you so pretty like this baby yk that?”

“uh un take that….mhmm there you go”

“move them fuckin hands im not finna tell you again”

“fuck princess thats how you comin?”

“yeah das all you needed huh?”

“so fuckin messy”

“ mhm you gon give me another one ma?”

“who all this for baby hm? use them pretty lips n tell me”

“ yeah you can”

his playlist*.<3

Poison - Brent Faiyaz

Power Trip - J. Cole

Stay Ready - Jhene Aiko

305 - Jordan Adetunji

It Won’t Stop - Sevyn Streeter

ALL MINE - Brent Faiyaz

Coming Down - The Weeknd

Kiss It Better - Rihanna

Damage - H.E.R.

Sorrows - Bryson Tiller

Try Me - The Weeknd

N o C h i l l - PARTYNEXTDOOR

Don’t - Bryson Tiller

[cellard0ors]

I thought a lot about this post last night and into today and while I understand and agree with OP's post, I will say - for me personally - that I often write fucked up, weird as hell toxic ships as a normal romantic relationship solely to piss off Antis.

Many is the ship I have where, yes - in all reality (and probably with better writing on my part) - I could highlight and underline that the complete fucked-up-ness of the ship is what I enjoy and make the relationship in general sus.

But since Antis already view my ships that way - regardless of this fact and even good arguments that are made as to why it might work regardless of true romance - I go out of my way to write the most fluffy, romantic shit with said ships as possible.

Sure, Antis aren't reading it (most likely, you never know) but the fact it even exists often infuriates them.

...and to me, that's funny. So, imma continue.

i think the worst thing in the world is seeing two characters with something weird as hell going on between them and you think to urself "wow i love the weird as hell thing these characters have going on between them" and you open archiveofourown.org and find out everyone else thinks they would actually be in a very normal romantic relationship

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 5 | l.n

summary: oh damn, never seen that color blue…

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, some more filler (IM SORRY ITS FOR THE PLOT!!!!!), fluff (EEKK!!!!), subtle foreshadowing, unedited as fuck, and hints at a strained family relationship (trauma!!)

message from jordan: hi everyone! long time no see, huh? 😅 i'm so sorry for being mia and for not updating this series in so long, i decided to take a small break from almost all socials. but don't worry, we're back and better than ever <3 as always, thank you for being so patient with me. i hope this chapter is worth the wait!! see you soon, for real this time :) - p.s i hope you enjoy that taylor swift reference in the summary, cause, iykyk 🙂‍↕️

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

“hellloooo earth to oscar!”

it was no use. this was the third time he had unintentionally interrupted your conversation to respond to a text. all while doing so with a giddy smile, one you had never seen light up his face quite like this one did.

you had come over right after class, the two of you agreeing to hang out and catch up. it had been a while since it had just been the two of you hanging out, the inevitable busy schedules really hitting hard during your last semester. you missed your best friend.

missed meaning past tense. because although he was your best friend, right now, you wanted to snap his neck.

"oscar jack piastri!"

"oh- sorry," he mumbled the same apology for the third time this afternoon, "sorry, i was just texting someone. it's nothing, what were we talking about?"

you gave him a blank stare, "were you texting your secret girlfriend?"

you noticed the way his eyes widened a little upon mentioning the word ‘girlfriend’, "okay, one, she's not my girlfriend. and two, no. i was texting max."

and for the four years you've known oscar piastri, you could always tell when he was lying. and this time, he was lying right to your face.

you decided to play along with his game, letting him think he won this time. so you hummed, nodding your head, "okay, fine, if you say so."

"i'm sorry," he apologized again, locking his phone and placing it face down on the kitchen counter, "you have my full attention now, promise. what were you saying?"

"i was telling you about last week."

"right, with lando and the diner thing, right?" he asked and you hummed, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in between the two of you, "wait a minute, how'd you go from hating his guts and it being unbearable to be within 5 feet of him to 'oh my god he took me to breakfast'?"

"you know that party lily practically dragged me to?" when he nodded you spoke again, "apparently i really suck at beer pong and he helped me back to the apartment and helped lily take care of me. it was really sweet, actually."

he smiled softly before letting out a quiet snort, "sorry, just never thought i'd hear you say the words 'lando' and 'sweet' in the same sentence."

"i'm serious!" you sighed, pouting ever so slightly.

"no, i know!" he laughed softly, "it's just... you're just now finding out what i've been trying to tell you for the longest time? that he's actually a really good dude?"

you bit down on your lower lip softly, "i didn't really give him a chance, huh?"

"not really, no," he chuckled softly, "but it's okay. he didn't exactly help out his own case either, in all honesty."

you nodded in agreement, the front door to the apartment creaking open. you both turned to see lando kicking off his shoes, placing his keys on the hook by the door.

he smiled at you and oscar, "hey,"

"hey," oscar smiled, answering for you as well as you took in his appearance. messy curls, tight black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, duffel bag on his shoulder and a soft glow on his skin, you could tell he had just gotten back from the gym.

arms. biceps. veins. god, you should probably speak before you embarrass yourself...

it was too late though, he had already seen the way your eyes traveled over his body. he decided to put the mental note in the back of his mind for now, instead checking the watch on his wrist.

"oh shit, i didn't mean to keep you waiting, y/n."

you tapped your phone screen, looking at the time. it was 4:35, just five minutes passed when you said you'd meet up. it really wasn't a big deal. you didn't even know it had gotten that late already.

"no, no, it's fine. didn't even notice, if i'm honest," you smiled and he sent you a smile back. oscar watched the two of you like a tennis match, cheekily grinning at the counter.

"i have some of those papers you had me work on the other day, they're in my room if you wanna..."

"oh- yeah! yeah, sure," you smiled, grabbing your things as oscar silently laughed at the way you acted around his roommate. how you were unintentionally tripping and stumbling over your own feet and your words, how lovestruck you became.

you followed lando to his room, placing your things down and taking a seat on the edge of his bed as he looked through his closet for a change of clothes, "i'm just gonna shower real quick, make yourself at home, though."

you smiled, nodding his way as he closed the door behind him. after all this time, you had never thought you'd see the other side of this door. his room was slightly messy, due to his busy schedule and his active lifestyle. posters of cars and, seemingly, his favorite video games hanging on the walls. the bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room was littered with different textbooks at the bottom and little die cast models of his favorite cars, along with a few formula one cars that you had recognized. the top shelf stood out the most to you, though.

a picture frame of him and who you had assumed to be his family. a family photo taken during christmas, all of them dressed in matching pajamas. a big happy family.

the photo, for whatever reason, brought tears to your eyes. a smile on your face as you sniffled quietly, putting the photo frame back down on it's designated shelf.

the door opened, causing you to turn around as he closed the door behind him, "sorry, i figured you'd prefer if i didn't smell like a guy's locker-room."

you laughed softly, wiping away the small tear that came from your eye, "god, yeah,"

"hey," he said, sitting down on the bed beside you, immediately disregarding the notebook he was grabbing beforehand, "what's wrong? you okay?"

you nodded, waving a hand dismissively, "yeah, yeah, i'm fine. i just- for whatever reason, when i looked at that picture of you and your family it just uhm..."

he patiently waited for you to finish your sentence, "it just brought back some feelings that i wish it hadn't, that's all."

"fuck, i'm so sorry," he said.

"no, no," you shook your head, "you don't have to apologize, if anything i should be the one who's apologizing."

"you don't have to apologize for having emotions."

you smiled softly, feeling another tear fall from the corner of your eye. this time, he gently brought his hand up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wiped it away.

the action made you breathless, as if the way he was looking into your eyes hadn't already. a mysterious color you couldn't quite put your finger on. it was a mix between blue, green and grey.

whatever it was, it was gorgeous and captivating at the same time.

you cleared your throat, the two of you moving away from the gap that had slowly been closing. your fingers untwisting themselves from his, you growing flushed at the fact that you had, at some point, interlocked your fingers with his unknowingly.

"sorry," you mumbled softly.

"'m sorry," he said at the same time. you both shared a soft and awkward chuckle before he grabbed his notebook from behind him.

"so, i had a few questions about chapter 15."

"go on," you said, studying his side profile as he explained the areas he was having trouble with. pretty tanned skin littered with freckles and moles, curls that perfectly kissed the skin on the back of his neck and his forehead.

the sentence lily had said to you last week repeating itself into your brain:

“...and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”

oh, fuck.

[angelltheninth]

How We've Both Changed

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to enemies to lovers, clit stimulation, name-calling, degradation, rough sex, creampie, teasing, dub-con, body betrayal, forced orgasm, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Caleb has an iron grip on my brain. I won't hear anything about it because it's not gonna get any better.

"Look at you. When did you get like this? So submissive and docile? Is it those... other men you've been hanging around with? Well it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna show you what a real man is like." Caleb growled next to your ear as he fucked you into your bed with the full intention of breaking you or it.

At first you were happy to see him. Even if he seemed a little bit different. But this was never the way you imagined he'd make love to you. Could this even be called making love? Because his love doesn't feel like the love you used to get from him.

Every sound was rough, every look judgmental, every thrust painful, every touch scolding.

He smirked as you let out a whimper, weather it was from pain or pleasure he didn't seem to care all that much. His fingers, cold against you, kept pressing and torturing your clit to the point it became painful. "This isn't about you feeling good, although I can tell that you are by the way your cunt is squeezing around me. But don't mistake that for my kindness, love." Caleb leaned in close. "I waited for you. Every day that was hell I kept going because of you. But you... you forgot about me the moment other men showed up."

"I never forgot. Caleb, I... always thought about you." You wanted to reach out and hold him but you only managed to struggle against the unyielding grip he had around your wrists.

Caleb smirked above you, his cock ramming itself into your pussy, creating lewd, wet, sloppy sounds. "Really? When you fucked yourself with those toys you thought of me? Or when you were on all fours, desperately trying to make yourself come? What about when you were with those other guys, did you want it to be me fucking you instead?"

His words hurt as much as the way he was fucking you did. "I never... I haven't been with anyone... in a really long time."

"Huh. Explains why this pussy is so easy. It needed a good cock. You'll never need or want for anything ever again, I'll give it all to you!" The necklace hung just above your face, clicking and shining, almost like Caleb was taunting you with it. His rigid cock kept hitting your sweetspot every time his hips smacked heavily against yours, causing your back to arch and your clit to push against his fingers. "So messy. God, you've become such a desperate whore in the time I've been gone. Your pussy is so good at taking cock isn't it. Mine. The only cock it'll be taking will be my cock!"

Caleb pushed his fingers into your already abused pussy and curled them upwards just as his cock sank in and stilled. "Ca-Caleb, Caleb, that's too much!"

"No it's not. No it's fucking not, I know you can take it. You can be good. If you were good for those other guys, then won't you be good for me too?" His voice dropped to an almost cooing tone. "Don't you want to be good for me?" He asked, his fingers curling again and again, each movement sending lighting across your body until your mind went blank.

"I can... I can't-!" You cried out, tears spilling down your face.

"You can. My love, I know you can. You will." His tone turned commanding towards the end, "You will come for me." With one last cruel flick of your clit you came with a desperate whine, your voice breaking as you arched off the bed. Just then he chose to let go of your hands, allowed you to embrace him. "Yes, hold onto me. I've got you, I've got you now." He chuckled against your ear, his fingers easing out of you and holding you against him with both arms as his cum filled your desperate, fucked pussyhole.

Desperate sounds kept falling from your lips as you shook against him, your clit pressing against his abs, your legs locked around his hips and pussy stretched to its limits. "Ca-ah-leb..."

"Easy, easy, I'm here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you again." His words were flavored with an equal amount of a sweet promise and a dangerous threat. "We're together again. Nothing will get in the way of our love. As long as we love each other, that's all that matters." The more he cooed those words in your ear the more you started to believe he was right.

[soangelbaby]

red kryptonite clark testing your boundaries and pushing you to new limits during sex . . . here’s da fic

red kryptonite clark . . . would take advantage of every single second of you breaking down for him, and he’d use it all against you, forcing you to submit to him whether you want to or not. he’s all about dominance and control, leaving no room for ifs, ands, or buts, he wants what he wants, and won’t stop until he’s satisfied. he’d overstimulate you, three orgasms in and you’re completely wrecked under him trembling, chest heaving, completely overwhelmed by the intense pleasure—so much it’s turned painful because of how sensitive you are. but clark doesn’t let up, he continues fucking you raw—pounding into you, his hands roaming your body, gripping you so tight, bruises would surely form within the next minutes. “aww,” he mocks, “are you tired already? thought you could handle me…” clark bites at your skin, “guess i overestimated you, baby.” all you can do is moan, whimper, whine, in response to his total corruption, teaching you to take him, to give in, to become his.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to own you. your mind, your body, your soul, everything about you belongs to him. every little gasp, moan, all because of him. he won’t stop until he’s the only person on your mind, he wants to be sure you won’t even think about letting anyone else near you because you both know they could never do you like him. he knows your body well—too well, exactly how to make you fold, crumbling under his touch, his senses heightening your anatomy, he can feel and hear the way your heart beats faster whenever he touches you, whenever he makes you do or say things you claimed you would never, he wants it all. clark will push and push until you finally break, unable to resist him, “you think you’re in control?” his fingers tug your hair harshly, pulling you into him, “keep pushing me. you’ll give in, i’ll make sure you break, and you’ll beg me for it.” he whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down to grip your neck, tightening just enough to remind you who he is.

red kryptonite clark . . . would corrupt you. his powers give him an extreme advantage over you—as if he needed them anyway. his strength is inhuman, one hand, that’s all it takes. one hand. and your arms are pinned above your head or behind your back while his free hands roams your body, causing you to feel extremely small and exposed. he wants you to feel how powerless you are under him, manhandling you, tossing you around like you weigh nothing, one second, you’re standing. the next? you’re over his shoulder, his palm landing on your ass with a sharp smack as he carries you effortlessly. “you struggle too much,” he mutters. “maybe i should fix that.” he loves how delicate you feel beneath him, how easy he can manipulate your body however he wants. his chest pressed against yours, completely caging you in, “i could do anything to you… and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” you know you can’t overpower him, and he will always make sure you remember that.

red kryptonite clark . . . loves to ruin you, to make you into such a pretty mess for him. he grips your hair harshly, fucking up whatever cute style you had that day—demolished by him. tugging your cute and carefully picked hair clips or scrunchies, throwing them to the ground like they mean nothing, the second he sees you, he shakes his head, grinning, “you really thought this was gonna last?” he pulls it apart slowly, ensuring you feel him, you understand he’s in control of every single moment, if you try to stop him, he just grabs your wrists, swatting you away, “uh-uh, you’re mine, i want you looking exactly how i left you.” and if you get upset? if you pout? he enjoys it even more, tilting his head like he’s so amused by your reaction, “aw you upset?” clark taunts, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “thought you looked cute? trust me baby, you look so better like this.” and he would make you see what he did, dragging you to a mirror, standing behind you, “go on, take a good look. that little style? gone. all that effort? wasted.” he’d murmur in your ear, fingers digging into your waist, “and why? because i wanted it that way.” and if you refuse to acknowledge it? man, he will force you. his large arm snaking around your stomach, the other tightening on the back of your neck, “no, you don’t get to ignore this. look at what i did to you.” and he won’t hesitate to double down, if you squirm or fight.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want your submission, he wants to see you fall apart. leaving you sore, aching, bruised, he wants to see that moment you’re too far gone but too hooked to walk away. he loves seeing that struggle in your eyes, that brief flicker of defiance before it vanishes completely. it excites him, turns him on, knowing you’re trying so hard to hold on, but you’re slipping, and it’s only a matter of time before you fall into the abyss he’s created for you. “you’re so close, aren’t you?” clark’s voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper. “i can see it, feel it, hear it, trying so hard to hold onto whatever left of you.” his every move, every touch is deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge. it’s a game to him—watching you crumble, feeling the tension build, knowing it won’t be long before you’re completely lost in him. “you’re slipping, baby. you’re already mine, and you love it.” the rush that hits him when you finally surrender, when you realize you’re no longer in control, is almost euphoric, more than just a power trip—it’s knowing you’ll never be the same after this. that feeling of ownership is addictive to him. you’re no longer a challenge; you’re a conquest, and with every step you take toward your breaking point, he feels that pull in his chest, that unrelenting satisfaction and he savors every moment of it.

★ rini’s note ; can yall hear me barking???? yeah u hear it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this man this mannnnn i cant even think straight jist need him to corrupt me pls !!! will beg for it !!!! likez and reblogz are sooo sexc so show me sum luv <3

[beesandwasps]

Since Gaza isn’t being bombed any more, they’re actually in better shape now than they were under Biden. They’re still being shot at with impunity by Israelis, but that was happening for the last 70 years so don’t pretend you care about it if you didn’t notice until now.

I would never ask a Democrat for help anyway, because they exist to prevent help from being provided. And I’m totally sure you speak for all black women and all lgbt, and the ones I follow who say the exact opposite of what you do don’t actually exist.

End the Iraq war early? Nope, we leave on Bush’s timeline (and even then Obama tried to keep us there beyond it).

Prosecute the Too Big To Fail Banks for the 2008 meltdown? Haha, nope, they’re Obama’s donors.

Cut the military budget when times are tough? That’s firm — let’s have austerity for social spending instead!

Healthcare? Oh, we’re going to get a legal mandate to buy private insurance in the form of the ACA. I’m sure that will help, it’s not like they’re the ones who created the problem in the first place. (Are you fucking kidding me?!)

Fossil fuels? Obama won’t prosecute BP for the Deepwater Horizon spill and Biden will increase production! And also put tariffs on solar panels and wind turbines from China, when there are basically no other suppliers! (But tariffs aren’t bad when Democrats do them!)

Police violence? Biden will give them federal funds they never had before so they can hire more officers and buy better equipment!

Immigration? In Trump’s first term, he deported fewer people than either Biden’s four years or any four years of Obama, and nearly all the facilities ICE is using (and were using in Trump’s first term) were built by Obama or Biden.

Gaza? 15 months of livestreamed genocide, hospitals and schools bombed into rubble, and Biden constantly lied to the public to make sure the money and weapons kept flowing to Israel, and had the US veto any UN resolutions which might have ended it. (Every single Democrat is going to hell for that if there’s a hell. Including Harris, who said out loud that she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently from Biden.)

Domestic spying? GWB proposed “Total Information Awareness” which the Democrats and the press mocked because it was so obviously fascist overreach, and he backed off. Obama implemented literally every part of the proposal except the name.

Disease? More people died of Covid-19 under Biden’s first two years, when there were vaccines against it, than did under Trump, because he ignored the science and cut relief almost immediately after taking office. He also let corporations dictate the bird flu response so the probable next epidemic could be created.

Foreign interference? Obama approved CIA participation in Operation Car Wash to overthrow the left-leaning Brazilian government and install the Trump-like Bolsonaro, among other meddling in South America.

War? Obama invaded Libya based on lies, sent troops around Africa, and continued GWB’s drone bombing — as did Biden — despite both the CIA and an independent academic study saying that this is actively counterproductive! Oh, and he also petitioned Congress for money to refurbish existing nukes and build new “tactical” ones which Trump now controls.

The Democrats literally could not have produced a more convenient setup for Trump. Why people like you defend them is a mystery.

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[cthulhus-curse]

Venomous

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,704

Warnings: Venom!Wanda Maximoff, Semi-Public Sex, Cunnilingus, Unrealistic Tongue Fucking, Belly Bulges, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Venom-Made Cock (idk what to call this to be honest) | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Wanda and her special friend get particularly hungry after class.

Hands traveled up your thighs, gushing with the venomous black stickiness that at times surrounded them entirely. You tried your best to push it away, but it was no use as small tentacles of goo pushed your underwear away. Eyes flickered from the front of the room to the person you shared a table with, huffing with frustration.

“Not here, Wanda. Save it for later,” you whispered with fear of being caught by the professor. You counted yourself lucky that you resided in the back of the room away from prying eyes, you taking notes while the woman beside you leaned against her chair. “Get it off me, now.”

“Why? Don’t you want to play a little game with me?” Came the question dripping with confidence. “Come on, Y/N, let me make you feel good. Our little Scarlet friend is desperate already. This morning’s playtime wasn’t nearly long enough.”

“You two are incorrigible. I hate you both.”

“No you don’t. You just hate that you like it so much,” Wanda shrugged, the symbiote she was wrapped in expressing her approval. “She’s right. We could be having so much fun right here. Why don’t you bend over the desk? Let’s show these dipshits how much of a little whore you are. Don’t you want your pussy to feel good? It’s so puffy and aching to be fucked. I can practically smell how wet you are from here.”

The remainder of your statistics class was spent taking notes, following the professor’s guidance, while simultaneously fighting off the symbiote’s advances. They were both right. You were drenched, but to be fair you’d blame them for having left you without release earlier that morning in the privacy of your shared dorm room. Wanda had formed herself a cock with Scarlet Witch’s goo, using it to pump herself in and out, groaning at how your pussy wrapped around her, hugging so tight.

When the time to leave came, you didn’t dare bat an eye towards your classmate, instead grabbing your belongings and rushing off onto the halls of the building, your sweatpants pulled up – a nonchalant Wanda followed behind. Green eyes turned dark red, glowing with the hunger and desperation, lips cracked and desiring a sweet nectar only you provided. Neither her or the symbiote she carried around since the beginning of the school year could get enough of. Scarlet Witch, the venomous extraterrestrial specimen, was bonded to her forever so long as they had you.

When easily catching up to you, Wanda sighed. “You know, it’s awfully rude to leave people behind like that. Especially your girlfriend,” she growled, pushing you close to her own body. The heat radiating from Wanda was intoxicating, your mouth watering as you could feel a small bit of Scarlet Witch against her clothed skin. “Don’t make us hurt you, malyshka. We both know you spent the last time crying and begging us to stop.” The last time you dared push her away with whatever strength you could muster, Wanda’s anger got the best of her – sharp fangs had dug deep into your arm leaving you a sobbing mess. “Maybe if you’re good we can use the little toy from this morning. That slutty cunt of yours loved being stuffed with our cock. So fucking pathetic.”

“Just make it quick,” you gave in knowing that while Wanda’s darkest desires came out, she’d still be soft on you. The same could not be said for the symbiote. “I have another class in a bit over an hour. I don’t think we have time to walk back to-”

“Oh shut up.”

As much as you wished to, you knew better than to question the path in which you were taken. All that mattered was that Wanda threw you against the wall of a nearby bathroom, locking the door behind as she stepped forth. Although she truly did not mind an audience, to show off her unabashed dominance over you entirely.

“Look at how fucking delicious she looks. Are you seeing this,” the symbiote never failed to be amazed by your appearance. Wanda merely hummed, stalking towards you before dropping to her knees. “I’m not blind, dumbass. Oh look at how pretty. You wouldn’t mind if I pulled this down, right?”

“Go ahead,” you smirked, watching as your partner tugged at your pants. She drove them down torturously slow, your underwear following along. The black goo traveled across her body, each second causing a different area to be covered with the symbiote. You’d never stop jumping even the slightest bit when wickedly sharp teeth morphed themselves with a deliciously long tongue dripping out saliva. “Just your tongue?”

“No one gave you permission to speak. Keep quiet if you know what’s good for you,” Scarlet Witch snarled. She pried your legs open until your cunt was in full view. Slick juices dripped down your inner thighs, an everlasting heat pulling her close. The oozing fluid accented your puffiness, folds practically begging to be parted as your hole screamed to be stuffed. “Mine.” Wanda frowned at that. “Ours,” came the correction.

Hands found themselves over the sticky dark mound of goo as a means to support yourself. Many nights the three of you spent enjoying one another, Wanda using her symbiote to explore varying sensations, her pink tongue brushing against your pussy as she tasted you. Neither wished to be rushed. They took their patient time exploring your sex, lapping at the area between your legs while their tongue grew in size. Mixed saliva and your cream made for a rather tasty treat.

The slender muscle slid inside your throbbing hole, stretching your walls out with its massive length. “Fuck that’s so good. Fill me up, Wanda. I want you to make me cum,” you begged. Although control was something you lacked, they were mindful to do as you pleased. There lived a soft spot deep inside reserved solely for you. “Give me more.”

Neither Wanda nor Scarlet Witch were in a position to deny the request. The mighty tongue reached into your depths to the point your insides were fully stuffed, each small area coated by more than fifteen feet. Luscious wet orchestral noises coated your ears, fluids dripping down your inner thighs. While tentacles held your arms and legs in place, the creature beneath you too its time.

Fucking you with her tongue made Wanda’s growl mixed with Scarlet Witch’s noises rough and loud. They were sure to flick their oozing tongue against your clit, to torture the poor little bundle of nerves that they were so fond of. Gooey tentacles snuck down your shirt to grope your tits, squeezing the mounds harshly while your erect tender nipples were abused.

The hunger they face could not be easily tamed. After what felt like millennia with Wanda’s possessed body kneeling between your legs, tongue exploring your guts and pumping itself roughly inside you, she swooped to her feet.

“Take them off, now,” their joined voices growled at you, forcing you to tug off your pants to the floor, allowing them and your underwear pool at your feet. As much as they wished to devour you, neither was fond of your anger, so they carefully lifted up your shirt, pushing you against the wall and picking you up with extreme strength. “You’re nothing but a little cock whore, huh? Do you want it? Let’s try it again.”

“Give it to me. I can handle it,” you challenged, wrapping your legs around Wanda’s venomous body. In awe, you stared down at the phallic creation which formed between her legs, all slick and dark, a goo that was large and girthy enough to make you see the stars as its size could be changed at will. “Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Wanda. Stop stalling and give me your c-”

You didn’t have an opportunity to finish as Wanda’s thick slimy cock eased itself in you. Your folds were spread apart, walls being delightfully stretched out. Surely that morning you had tried it for the first time, but it was even more enjoyable once Wanda got the hang of it. The pants she let out mixed with Scarlet Witch’s grunts were music to your ears.

“Fucking whore. That’s all that you are, our little cumdump,” Wanda breathed out, her possessed arms digging their sharp nails into your skin. Half of her face was covered with the symbiote’s appearance while the other was herself. The pure animalistic movements of her, the carnal desperation she carried out when stuffed your pussy full with her dick, made your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Your cunt looks so fucking puffy. Doesn’t it feel good? To be all full with our cock. You’re gripping us so well. Oh you’re so warm and tight. Your pussy is amazing, baby.”

The tediously long tongue spread across your face, saliva being dripped across your jaw with numerous fangs that grazed your skin. Her dick enlarged inside of you, your walls being spread apart. A small bulge formed over your lower belly that Wanda created. She tugged at your limbs, tongue shoving itself down your your throat while she fucked you with might.

“Cum for us now, baby. Show us how much of a stupid fucking cock bitch you are. Such a tight pussy,” they barked, causing you to yelp loudly. “Yeah moan like that, mutt. So full with our cock. You’re nothing but a fucktoy, a sexdoll that can’t do anything right but be a goddamn fleshlight.”

All that came from the utmost arousal you faced was a gushing wave of fluids. You squirted all over their cock. Your body was unmoving as the gooey tentacles held you in place, moans muffled by the tongue which fucked your throat. Wanda didn’t stop fucking you as you made a mess over her dick. If anything she went faster, foreheads pressed together when several tentacles pressed against the belly bulge.

“Feels good,” you tried to incoherently say, but were dissuaded by Wanda’s possessive demeanor. “Wanda…”

“Shut up.” Although you had creamed all over her, Wanda’s movements never ceased. She aimed to claim you fully within the campus’ bathroom. “Now be a good little fleshlight and kneel. Time for you to clean up your mess, whore.”

[sisyphus-hye]

Love is Nothing (Part 3)

Thomas must suffer. It was always meant to be that way.

Weeks have passed since Wonyoung's last incident with him. The one where she sent him a personal video of her getting spitroasted and double penetrated by two random men in a fancy hotel room. The video had played in his head every day, every hour, of every minute that he had time to think to himself. The way their cocks stretched Wonyoung's holes, the way she completely submitted to them in a way she never did for him. It was total humiliation on every level.

Over the days since then Wonyoung ordered Thomas to move out of his apartment and move in with her so he could be a full-time cuck to his goddess. The money he made from his well-paying job went to Wonyoung, he spent his time cooking and cleaning her home, he waited on her hand and foot just to be treated like the beta that he knew he was. He did it all just to sit in the corner at night and watch his girlfriend bring home random men and watch them fuck her like he never could.

One night after IVE performed at a particularly successful event, Wonyoung walked through the door with a wicked grin on her face. Thomas knew that look. It meant she had a surprise for him, and it was never the kind of surprise he didn't want. She strutted in, her high heels clicking on the floor, a trail of her heavenly perfume following her.

"Look what I found, Thomas," she announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Behind her, six muscular, handsome men stepped into the room. Thomas's stomach churned. This was going to be a long night. It was going to be a night he won't think he'll ever recover from.

"I saw these men in the crowd tonight," she said, her eyes dripping with lust over the men in her home. "They're all such big fans of IVE, and they're all dying to meet me. Aren't you, boys?"

The men all nodded eagerly, their eyes glued to Wonyoung's body, not even acknowledging Thomas's presence in the room. The jealousy boiled in his veins, but he knew better than to argue. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and watch as she put on a show for them.

"Now if you don't mind I think it's time you men take off your pants," Wonyoung demanded, her voice firm and assertive. The room grew tense with excitement as the men complied, one by one revealing their thick, hard cocks. Thomas couldn't help but feel inadequacy as he stared at the size of these strangers. They were all so much larger than him, so much more capable of satisfying her.

Wonyoung walked over to the nearest one, her eyes lighting up with hunger. She reached out and stroked his cock gently, a soft moan escaping her lips. "It seems like you're all very eager to show me your appreciation," she said, her voice a sweet purr. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as she went down to her knees began to suck him off, her mouth moving expertly around his shaft. Thomas felt his own cock stir, but he knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself. This was her show, and he was just a spectator.

The other men watched intently as Wonyoung went to town on the first guy. They jerked themselves off, waiting for their turn. The scent of male arousal filled the air, thick and palpable. Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of his girlfriend, the woman he loved, the woman he worshiped, on her knees before these strangers. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the precum leaking from the man's tip, and she moaned with pleasure, sending waves of agony through Thomas's body.

One by one, she moved around the circle, her mouth a warm, wet haven for each cock that was thrust into it. The sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room, mingling with the heavy breathing of the men and Wonyoung's own whimpers of excitement. Each man had a different taste, a different texture, a different level of excitement that she eagerly devoured. Her cheeks hollowed as she took them deep into her throat, her eyes watering from the effort, but she never slowed down, never once looking to Thomas for approval or pity.

With a final, triumphant gasp, Wonyoung pulled her mouth off the last cock and looked up at the men, her lips glistening with their precum. "Now, my bitch boy Thomas," she said, her voice hoarse from the abuse, "keep your eyes on me. This is the part you're going to love."

Wonyoung closes her eyes and sticks out her tongue, a gesture of pure submission and filthiness. The men, fueled by lust and the thrill of degradation, start slapping the head of their cocks on Wonyoung's face, her cheeks reddening with each impact. Thomas feels his stomach churn, his mind racing with a mix of anger and arousal. He wants to scream, to fight, but he knows it's futile. This is what he signed up for when he agreed to be her cuck.

After they're done slapping her with their cocks the first man steps forward, grabbing a fistful of Wonyoung's hair, and pulls her head back roughly. She opens her mouth, gasping for air, and he shoves his cock inside, pushing down her throat until she's gagging. She tries to pull away, but he holds firm, his grip unyielding. He starts to pump into her mouth, face fucking her with a brutal rhythm. Her eyes water and her nose runs as she struggles to breathe around the thick shaft. The man looks Thomas right in the eyes as he treats his girlfriend like nothing more than a toy and it continues like that for 5 more men. After one has had their fill of face fucking Wony the other takes their place until all six have had their turn using her face. When they are done Wonyoung's face is covered in spit, precum, and her makeup is ruined. She's a mess but she doesn't care… Anything to make her cuck suffer.

The men form a tight circle around her, their cocks in hand. They're all so close she can feel their hot breath on her skin. They stroke themselves in unison, watching her with hungry eyes. The sound of their palms slapping against their cocks is like a drumroll in Thomas's ears, a symphony of his humiliation. He can see the veins popping out on their shafts, feel the heat of their desire, and the smell of their arousal is like a fog in the room.

Wonyoung looks at Thomas right in his eyes, "You like watching this don't you, you fucking cuck? Watch me get used like a cheap whore," she says with a smirk. "I bet you didn't think that on our first date it'd be like this, watching these six studs all about to paint my face with their cum. Tell me, do you want to see it?"

Thomas nods, unable to speak, his mouth dry and his heart racing. Wonyoung laughs, "Good boy," she says, treating him like an animal that's learned a new trick. She opens her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue in an obscene gesture.

The first man steps closer, his cock pulsing with the need to release. Thomas can see the beads of cum forming at the tip as he jerks himself off. With a groan, the man explodes, sending a thick rope of white liquid directly onto Wonyoung's face. It splashes across her cheek, her nose, and into her open mouth. She doesn't flinch, just keeps her eyes locked on Thomas's, a challenge in her gaze. The second man is quick to follow, aiming for her eyes, but she tilts her head back just in time to catch it on her forehead and let it dribble down her nose and chin.

Thomas feels a mix of disgust and arousal as he watches his girlfriend's face become a canvas for these men's lust. She's so beautiful, so degraded, so utterly used, and it's all for his humiliation. The third and fourth men cover her cheeks and mouth, their cum mixing with the saliva and snot that's already there, creating a sticky, hot mess.

The fifth man approaches, his cock a picture of raw power as it spits and jerks in his hand. Thomas can see the excitement in Wonyoung's eyes, the thrill of knowing what's coming next. She tilts her head back, her long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. The man's cock is only a few inches from her face when he lets go, a thick rope of cum shooting directly into her left eye. She gasps, the warm liquid stinging and blurring her vision. Thomas's heart races as he watches, his own cock straining in his pants. He wants to look away but can't, the scene too depraved to ignore.

The sixth man, the leader of the pack, steps forward with a knowing smile. He tells Wonyoung to pucker up, and she obeys, her glossy lips forming a perfect O. Thomas can see the anticipation in her one eye that doesn't have cum in it, the spark that tells him she's about to get the grand finale she's been craving. The man strokes his cock one last time before aiming it at her mouth. The head of his shaft is a deep, angry purple, and Thomas can see the bulbous end pulsing with the need to release. The man starts to spurt, a thick rope of cum shooting out and landing right on her plump lips. It slides down to her chin and onto her chest, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. The man keeps going, painting her bottom lip with his seed, then her cheeks, and finally her forehead. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth, catching the last few drops on her tongue. She swirls it around before swallowing with a dramatic gulp, her eyes never leaving Thomas's.

"Oh my fucking God, that felt so good," Wonyoung exclaims while she begins to rub her clit. "Are you still there cucky? It's a little bit hard to see right now," she says, her vision blurred by the cum in her left eye. She giggles as she reaches for a tissue to wipe herself clean, her hand shaking with excitement. "C'mere honey. Come give me a kiss," she beckons Thomas, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Huh?" Thomas questions, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to… to kiss you after all that?"

Wonyoung laughs, a sound that's both cruel and playful. "Why not?" she says, her cum-covered face glowing with excitement. "You love me, don't you?"

"You know I do, but-but-but," Thomas stammers, his voice cracking with the weight of his own degradation. But Wonyoung doesn't care for his protests.

"How about this? You come here and give me a kiss or I'm going to get these nice men here to kick your ass and then they'll make you kiss me anyway," Wonyoung says, her voice filled with both a commanding tone. Thomas swallows hard, his heart racing faster than ever before. He knows that if he refuses, it'll just get worse for him.

Thomas shuffles over to her, his legs feeling like they're made of jelly. He tries to keep his eyes on hers, but they keep drifting down to the mess on her face. When he's close enough, Wonyoung grabs his face with both hands, her fingers sticky with cum, and pulls him down to meet her. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the worst, but it's nothing compared to the humiliation he's already felt. He presses his lips to hers, feeling the warm, salty taste of the men's cum mingle with her own flavor. He kisses her deeply, letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth, tasting every inch that's been claimed by the others. He can hear the men laugh at him, he thinks he even heard one call him a loser, but he doesn't stop.

Wonyoung lets go of Thomas's face with a smacking sound, leaving him gasping for air. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good bitch," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now go clean yourself up. You're a mess." she adds laughing at him.