#and i was like yeah.. the stars are taunting me though

[marchsfreakshow]

Yeah, hi! See your soul mate au prompts, and if you're taking requests, how does Peter Maximoff with 18 sound? That feels like the kinda thing that'd fit with him lol ("God, why is Madonna stuck in my brain?! I didn’t ask for a private concert!" or smth like that).

Love your work, btw :3

Ugh, a love song?

Fluff!

Anon ur soso smart! I went with a song u can hear in Fallout. Cause, I've been obsessed with fallout recently!

Peter was the type of person to listen to anything. Anything in the world. But god, these Western songs were really ragging on him!

Marty Robbins, Eddy Arnold, Tony Marcus.. etc.!

First it was, Big Iron. No big deal. He liked that song. It was funny, and something he could just have a little dance to when he felt like he needed to expel energy. The earworm went on for a week or so.

Then it was Lone Star. Wow... possibly the most western song he'd ever heard. Why on earth were these random, 50s western songs suddenly getting stuck in his head? He'd never heard them before these weeks. ...He wasn't even from Texas like the songs says!

Finally, a complete 180 from Western songs. Crazy He Calls Me. Billie Holiday. That one was nice. That one was sweet. Cute a bit. After a few days though, it was starting to get a bit old. I mean, he'd never even heard the song on the radio before! Where on earth was it coming from?

Ah, you. One of his best friends. Just the person to talk to about this. Peter walked (zipped) his way over to you, standing behind your shoulder for a second. You were just organising your drawers, muttering a song to yourself. "...sure I'm crazy...crazy in love, you see.."

Peter couldn't help himself to taunt you behind your shoulder. "Like the wind, that shakes the bough.."

And a little jump from you, making you turn in your spot. "Jesus christ Peter! I hate it when you sneak up on me." Placing your hand over your heart for a moment to exaggerate the truth. "...I didn't know you knew that song."

"I don't. Not that well. It's been stuck in my head for weeks! Like the singer came back to life and decided to be stuck in my actual brain like a genuine worm or something! Oh my god, it's absolutely ridiculous at this point." Peter rambled on and on, talking about Billie Holiday and how he'd never heard her before this.

"I've been listening and humming like, a lot of 50s songs. Love songs and Westen songs. They're kinda cute."

Peter took a second. Woah. Hold on! Did you say you've been listening to songs from the 50s?? "Woah. Gotta say, I've been stuck with those songs in my head for like... forever."

"wait really?"

"yeah. Weird right?"

"totally weird."

You were both naive, and that seemed to be fine with the two of you.

[southislandwren]

writing my scholarship thank you notes as if im not already planning on skipping the awards banquet to go see a total solar eclipse in texas lol

[cinnaleaf]

「 No Match For You | One Shot 」

summary: jude and trent make a no sex bet but jude loses bc of you | MDNI 18+

warnings: thigh riding, dirty talk, power play, public teasing (phone call), language

💌: unhinged notes app chronicles pt. 4 😀 pretend it’s november i’m posting early  wc: ~783

Jude was oblivious to the chaos you were about to unleash upon him while he sat on the couch, chatting on the phone with Trent one day. This ‘No Nut November’ bet he placed with Trent was cute at first, but after a week of seeing him walk around the house shirtless with an assortment of joggers and shorts hanging low on his hip with no relief, you had enough.

It was time to put an end to this nonsense.

Wearing just Jude’s oversized shirt with panties, you strolled over to the couch with your eyes locked on his lap. Jude’s attention was still on the phone while his leg bounced slightly; his muscles flexed with each movement underneath his shorts. His bulging thigh vein was basically taunting you, begging you to take a seat and enjoy the ride. 

You straddled him swiftly and the friction from your panties rubbing up against his thigh had you seeing stars already. Jude glanced at you with his brow raised but kept talking to Trent even though his grip on the phone tightened. A wicked grin spread across your face and you started grinding against him, your wetness already soaking through your panties and onto his thigh. Jude stiffened and looked up at you, parting his lips slightly while resting his hand on your hips, but he kept up the conversation on the phone with Trent like nothing was happening.

“Yeah, I – aah – I think I saw something about that the – goddamn – the other day..” he mumbled in a low tone. It was clear you were becoming a distraction for him. With a smirk, you palmed his dick through his shorts, feeling him harden instantly. He groaned and you leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. 

“I’m so wet, baby. Don’t you want to feel how wet I am?”

Jude’s jaw clenched and you could tell his control was slipping when you felt him twitch underneath your hands. You thought you heard Trent question your boyfriend about something, but you didn’t care to listen to their conversation..you were focused on one thing.

“Nah…I didn’t hear anything. Must be the telly you just heard.” Jude muttered over the phone in a strained voice as you started stroking him through the fabric of his shorts. His grip on your hips strengthened, surely to leave a mark by the time you were done with him. 

He was crumbling fast.. so you took it a step farther by rolling your hips harder against his thick thighs, moaning softly from the friction. After a while, you shifted on his lap to grind against his dick instead of his thigh. 

“Jude..” you moaned louder this time, arching your back. “Fuck me please.”

His hand flew to your mouth to muffle your moans. “Trent, hold on. Give me a minute.” Jude gave you a look, speaking in a low tone. “Be quiet for me, yeah?”

You nodded, muffling a “mhm” against his large palm. Your hands slid inside of his shorts to wrap your fingers around his cock, stroking him slowly and deliberately. He was trying to fight it, but a low groan escaped his lips when you ran your finger over the tip to spread a bead of pre cum. Eventually his hand fell from your mouth and you brushed your lips up against his ear. 

“You’re so hard for me.” you teased seductively. “Don’t you want to cum inside me, baby?”

Jude didn’t answer and instead moved his hand down to yank your panties to the side, dipping his fingers between your folds to play with your clit. He watched you writhe against him, entranced by the sight of you losing yourself on his long fingers.

“Bro..I–” he started, but he couldn’t get his words together on the phone now that he was completely focused on you. You slid his shorts down and teasingly positioned his dick at your opening, grinding against him back and forth to wet his cock with your slickness. 

“Mmm..Jude.. I think you’re about to lose...” you whispered. 

He dropped the phone and pushed himself into your pussy, making you moan loudly from the fullness you felt. His thigh wasn’t the only thing thick and veiny. 

“Mate..I gotta go.” Jude stammered as he thrusted into you again, unable to hold back his groans. “Fuckkkk. Baby you’re so tight. Couldn’t wait for me to fill you up, huh?”

On the other end of the line, Trent’s laughs roared through the phone. He added some commentary before he hung up. 

“You’re done bro. Send my money and give my thanks to Y/N. Can’t believe it only took a week. You’re no match for her.”

[fawnsflowerbed]

While I'm working on the last of my course stuff take a slutty smut draabble because I'm so tired and achy from living T-T MDNI!!!! SCREAMS AT YOU!!!!!!

I feel like RE: Damnation Leon would be the dirtiest talker out of them, maybe with Vendetta on top of it? RE4og definitely would, but I'm talking the Matthew Mercer era Leons here. I think Damnation or Vendetta are the ones to be the meanest about it, the most raunchy.

But like, Imagine it. He's got an arm wrapped around your chest to keep your back pressed snug to him, pelvis grinding into the fat of your ass so every drag of his cock has you seeing stars. All you can do is whine and gasp out his name, your brain a blank slate as soon as he's inside you.

"There it is, angel. Atta' babe, there you go. Always do go dumb for some dick, don't ya? Fuck, yeah you do." It's hoarse and rasped but oh so cocky, the stubble of his face scratching across you throat when he presses wet kisses to your neck and jaw. You're whimpering, mewling, big glossy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly.

"I know it's a stretch baby, I know. But you look so cute speared on my fat cock, darlin'. What a fuckin' sight you are." It's a taunting croon as his hips piston into the warmth of your embarrassingly wet cunt, skin on skin filling the room every time his dick drags against the slick walls of your pussy. "Feels full, don't it sweetheart? You like that? Going stupid on your boyfriend's cock even though he's twice your age?" He LOVES to taunt you over that. You're in your late 20's, he's in his late 30's going on 40's, yet once every couple of days you find yourself bent over the nearest surface and fucked into next week.

He's groaning, eyes screwing tight at the way your gummy walls are squeezing him like pure velvet, he feels like if he tried to pull out right now you'd dislocate his damn cock. "C'mon, gorgeous." And then he's picking up the pace, no longer long slow grinds but pistoning thrusts and humps to fall as deep into your pussy as he possibly can. Watching how you gasp and cry out at the sudden change of pace. Leon grits his teeth, letting his head drop onto your shoulder to mutter breathlessly in your ear. "Wanna feel this cunt squeeze me when I make you squirt, gonna stain the sheets for me. Come on, baby."

[starboye]

starring: gambit x male reader

request: could you write about how everyone (all the xmen) think that the reader is the dom/top in the relationship even though its actually gambit and gambit gets tired of it so he makes reader moan loudly to show who's actually the dom? Kinks honestly you can do what you want but just can you add dumbification (I really just wanna be shit talked to by gambit 😭) If you want to add anything else you can!!

warnings: smut, rough sex, dumbification, cursing, ass slapping, slight cum denial, possessive, daddy kink

it wasn't your fault that everyone thought you were the dom of the relationship i guess they just thought you had kind of energy in you but every time they brought it up as a joke to remys jaw and fist would clench tighter than ever and he could feel his blood boiling.

when logan would lose to him in a training fight he'd tease remy with a "yeah what ever how 'bout you go get fucked by your little boyfriend or whatever" and remy just wanted to grab you and fuck you in front of them all,showing them how his boy actually is behind closed doors taking his dick.

you now walked into the kitchen to find everyone talking and enjoying their meals as remy cooked for them "woop woop look who it is mr y/n the gambit fucker" nightcrawler taunted teleporting to you with a cloud of smoke, as soon as remy heard this you could feel his whole energy change from happy to annoyed, i mean there was nothing you could do to stop them from thinking you were the dom.

but remy knew just the way to fix it, he stomped over to you and roughly grab your arm before dragging you to your guys shared room, logan could smell the lustful pheromones on the man as he walked past "so everyone thinks you fuck me huh well i'll show them" remy says stripping naked and pulling you into a heated kiss as he stripped you clothes off.

"remy c'mon there'es no ne-" you tried to stop him knowing the ensuing outcome of this all would be you getting fucked senseless "shut up i just need to prove those little fuckers wrong" remy roughly says pushing you onto the bed and arching your back down so your ass sticks up to him as he slapped his dick on your hole "you want me to fuck you" remy smirks "yes daddy please" you whimper at the sight of it.

"ohhh fuck" remy groans with shudders as he slides in, his spit acting as lube "mm fuck you feel so good" you say laying your face into the bed to silence your moans as he begins thrusting into you, usually he'd start off pretty slow but the need to show everyone who the dominant one is has him going at an ungodly pace into you.

"nuh uh baby let them hear those pretty moans" remy says pulling your hair to lift your head from the pillows as you moan out loudly "yeah keep going just like that" remy coos kissing your cheek to apologize for the ensuing pain before he starts going faster and faster with your moans growing and growing with each plap.

at this point the whole mansion could hear your moans and it was becoming insufferable, some people covering there ears to try and stop hearing while others just left the place for some peace and quiet, you felt most ad for logan and professor x who could hear better than anyone and sadly they were trying there best to stop listening to the sex but they just couldn't get away from it.

your ass was sore and your hole was gushing with remys cum as he didn't want to stop fucking you "such a dumb fucking whore for letting them think you were fucking me" remy spits out gripping your face to turn and look at him "now look at you moaning out my name while i mold your little hole to the perfect shape of my cock" he chuckles seeing your sweaty and tear ridden face from the rough sex.

all you could do was babble and moan at his words, to far gone to even understand what he was saying you just knew he wasn't going to slow down till every one heard you moaning his name, if anything you blamed scott for starting the rumor that you fucked remy after he walked past your room and heard remy moaning your name and ran to tell everyone else.

really what happend was you were teasing remy that night, edging him to the point of cumming just to stop but that story is one for another day not now, you begged remy to stop "i think they got the point rem please i need a break" you said with a hiccup, it felt like your hole was gonna split in two from the amount of force he was using while he abused your spongy walls "mm i dont know should i, i mean for a slut like yourself id expect you to love every inch of this dick" remy laughs.

you whined at his words "how 'bout this say my name and ill cum and stop" he say with a sinister smile, you thought this was gonna be hella easy but the moment you said the first letter remy fucked you roughly making you moan out instead, this motherfucker was teasing you on "oh come on baby i know in that pretty little mind of your you know it" remy taunts tapping the side of your head with his fingers.

"i... i do" you pant "it's re- fuck" you say getting cut off by his cock gliding past your good spot to the point you saw stars floating in the room "mm mm wrong name darling" he whispers in your ear and you could hear the smirk on his face "fuck you" you roll your eyes "oh but you're the only one getting fucked here, pretty good might i add" he says pushing you back down into the bed, you rutted your hips against the fabric of the blanket.

"hey did i say you could do that" remy sternly says now pinning your arms behind your back and lifting your ass up to have your dick dangle in the air aching hard "say my name" he orders smacking your ass making more precum fall from your cock "da... daddy" you moan "louder" remy says now slamming into you "daddy" you yell out "one more time for me handsome" remy groans on the edge of his climax "DADDY" you moan loudly, remy now spilling his thick load into you as he still has a rough grip on you.

after a couple seconds he pulls his twitching cock out of you slowly, watching the cum drip out of you "now who's hole is this" he asks spanking your ass to jolt you up "yours remy" you weakly answer "that's right and never forget it" remy says crawling up to cuddle you.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[velvrei]

Early mornings riding Logan cowgirl style...trying to keep quite so they don't wake everyone up...him admiring her like shes made of stars...your honor please give him to me I can fix him

i absolutely adore this idea.

early morning riding with logan (18+)

you should’ve guessed last night that the next morning logan would have you above him, riding his cock so good.

you were being too loud a few minutes before, so his large hand was now covering your mouth to keep you quiet. the last thing he wanted was to wake everyone up with your moans.

even though you were on top of him, your bodies were so close. his lips were practically kissing your ear, as he whispered sweet words into it.

“yeah, that’s right. being so loud i gotta shut you up, all because it feels too good, huh?” your words caused him to ride him harder, hands on his shoulders to keep balance.

“god, baby, so fucking big.” your words cause him to shiver, letting out an unintentional hiss. his dick twitched inside of you, as you picked up the pace.

he whined as you pushed him back onto the bed, hands on his chest his hand falling from your mouth and your hand going to his mouth.

“look who’s being loud, now?” you taunt, smirking down at him as you watch his head fall back, eyes scrunching shut as his head forces into the pillows.

he moaned, as much as he loved being in control those little moments where you took control drove him insane.

“god you’re so pretty baby, fuck, just woke up and you’re already riding me so good. good fucking girl.”

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

[izurou]

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f!reader. penetrative sex. a creampie. choking. many pet names. cum eating if you squint maybe. his dialogue is .. anyways happy shidou day <3

ryusei’s love for you is strange.

he expresses it in such a way that fools everyone else into thinking there’s no love there at all—just some psychotic, lust driven obsession.

sure—he’s overzealous with his public affections, and has a dangerous habit of flashing his canines at anyone who looks your way, but that’s love. he loves you.

he loves everything about you, everything you do.

you’re underneath him, with the cutest little pout sitting on your lips, and he loves it. your brows are knit together—pleasure dotting your features, and he loves it. you’re letting him bury his cock inside you, as deep as he wants, and he fucking loves it.

but then—he leans down to press a kiss to your mouth and, you turn your head to the side.

“oh? what’s with the attitude?” he sneers, craning his neck in an attempt to follow your gaze. “hmm, babydoll? where’re your manners?”

“dunno,” you mumble—lolling your head back into place as you continue avoiding his persistent pink stare. “ask your other girlfriend.”

he starts to laugh.

it’s deep at first—straight from his gut, but the sound changes as it travels further up his throat, morphing into something a little higher pitched and maniacal when he tilts his head towards the ceiling.

“yeah,” his chuckling continues as he playfully taps a finger against the tip of your nose. “keep talkin’ like that baby, and you’re gonna have me cummin’ in no time.”

oh how he loves this.

you being upset over a harmless little interaction he had with another girl—fucking perfect, maybe he’s rubbing off on you, or maybe you’re starting to love in the same way he does. the thought is just so exciting, he can’t help but jump the gun.

“you’re insane,” you mutter under your breath.

“am i?” he tilts his head to the side and grips your chin, squishing your cheeks together a little. “for you, i might be.”

you swat his hand away and prop yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your gaze onto his. there’s displeasure flooding your stare, but he still grins at you, ear to ear.

and then you say it—what he thinks has to be his favourite question ever.

“only for me?”

⋆

he fucks you like it, like he’s batshit crazy for you.

you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a band of stars circling the crown of your head right now, that’s how completely dumb you feel.

the skillful, pornstar roll of his hips is a monster in and of itself—but pair it with the hand decorating your throat, the unmistakable weight of fingertips pressing into your skin, and he’s another creature entirely—a true demon.

a slew of crescent moons wrap around his wrist, a cute little bracelet etched into his skin, courtesy of your nails. he doesn’t seem to notice his new jewelry though—too entranced by those fucked out sounds leaving your mouth.

“still mad, babydoll?” his pace falters briefly as he locks eyes with you—god, you’re just so gorgeous like this, he’s already filled you up half a dozen times inside his head.

every variation of the word yes sits in the back of your throat—and maybe, you could’ve gotten one of them out if it weren’t for his hand—filtering out anything and everything he doesn’t want to hear.

all you can do is nod your head, and even then, you can barely do that.

“hm? doesn’t feel like it,” he taunts, and you know what he means—the stickiness of your cunt, the way it’s coating his shaft in a glistening hot sheen of your arousal. “shh shh,” he cups his free hand over your mouth with a sadistic grin, and that’s when you hear it—a lewd squelch, over and over and over again. “doesn’t sound like it either, huh? pussy’s talkin’ to me, shit, think she loves me.”

a wave of heat floods your cheeks, and oh—how you wish he would just shut up. unfortunately, silence isn’t a concept he’s very familiar with.

“right, angel face?“ he grits his teeth and prods further, pressing kisses to your sweet spots with the thick head of his cock. “this pussy loves me.”

you screw your eyes shut and try to tune him out, knowing the mere sight of him above you, all wide eyed and pussy crazed, with a thin layer of sweat highlighting his chiseled features—is enough to tip you over the edge.

“fuck, c’mon, don’t do this to me sweetheart,” he feigns innocence, masking the subtle increase of pressure he puts on your throat with his honeyed words. “you’re breakin’ my heart here.”

shit, he really knows how to get you going.

he knows what buttons to press and which to steer clear from, and even then—he’ll rewire you to his liking and press them all regardless.

“r-ryu,” you choke out, struggling to remain in the present moment as your vision starts to blur—as the tight knot in your tummy threatens to unravel.

“oh yeah, right here baby, right here.” he purrs, coaxing what little focus you have left onto him. “cum with me, lemme feel that sweet cunt. it’s all mine, ain’t it?”

he loses you halfway through his sentence, but it’s fine—your body is about to give him the response he was looking for.

you don’t hold back—knowing how much he loves you like this, with your head thrown back and your hips stuttering towards him. you’re so upset, you think he’s crazy, and yet your cunt pulses on him in perfect time with the racing beat of your heart just beneath his fingertips.

he’s right there with you, moaning shamelessly as he blows a hot, sticky load between your folds—and fuck, it’s so much hotter when it’s real.

“shit, you’re somethin’ else,” he laughs breathily, enjoying the view of his sheathed cock twitching—shooting out whatever he has left.

and it physically pains him to have to pull out, but you look so pretty right now, so ruined—with your half lidded eyes and your wet lips, it’d be such a waste if he didn’t.

with a knee on either side of you and his cock in hand, he inches his way up your body—stopping only when he’s straddling your chest. he taps his tip against your lips, and being the perfect angel you are, you take him into your mouth.

“you taste yourself?” he bucks into your face a little, and you hum in response—forcing him to grab onto the headboard as the vibrations travel up his shaft.

“oh baby,” he sighs, “only you can cum on this cock.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you. 

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted. 

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you. 

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother. 

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar. 

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.” 

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned. 

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes. 

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned. 

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

“So…”

You went silent again. 

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with. 

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups? 

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him. 

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you. 

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean. 

“Come on!” Dean urged you. 

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered. 

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked. 

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?” 

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you. 

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man. 

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture. 

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed. 

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh. 

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!” 

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention. 

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up. 

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s. 

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly. 

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently. 

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her. 

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded. 

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it. 

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.” 

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates. 

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered. 

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow. 

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse. 

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body. 

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body. 

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it. 

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again. 

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison. 

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door. 

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case. 

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling. 

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply. 

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

[sturnioloszn]

ICE BOUND (3) - M.S

summary; while sneaking around with the team captain, you both lose track of time and get caught in the very act you tried so hard to keep a secret.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (pls wrap the willy), semi-blowjob?, dirty talk, praising, arguing, getting caught.

a/n; this is gonna be kinda long, but it is the last part of this "mini series", idek if this counts as a series lmfao, it's just multiple oneshots from the same storyline? idk, either way; i hope you enjoy it. 💙

P1, P2

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

Matt and I have been together for just over 4 months, and it's been everything and more. He's insanely thoughtful and caring, which is hard to believe considering the reputation hockey guys get.

Apart from the fact that Matt literally worships the ground I step on, he always makes sure I feel loved in ALL departments. If I was sad, dick. If I was angry, dick. If I was horny, dick. And I have to admit, he must be magic because it works every. single. time.

A notification pings on my phone, snapping me out of my daydreams; I know exactly who the text is from. I quickly unlocked my phone to reply to Matt's message.

He was driving over to my house right now even though he had practice. He made up some shitty excuse to my dad about how he "caught a cold" and therefore couldn't make it, but it was all a lie just to see me. It was sweet that he'd skip practice to be with me, but I wish he still went, I know how much hockey means to him.

A few moments later, I heard a knock at my front door, I catapulted myself down the stairs to go open it. I'm met with Matt's sweet smile, and it leaves me in awe. I throw myself into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, and he pulls me into him tighter.

He rests his chin on top of my head, sinking into the hug. He was wearing a black, 'ransom' hoodie and sweats, which contrasted with his pale skin and eyes.

I'm sure he wasn't impressed with my outift, I was in one of his hoodies and plaid pyjama pants; but I wouldn't be wearing anything in a few minutes, so it didn't really matter.

He breaks away from the hug, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. "How's my pretty girl?" He asks, letting the nickname he made for me roll off his tongue.

"Good, missed you, though," I reply, letting him into the house and shutting the door behind us. We move up to my bedroom, and we both pretend like we don't know what's about to happen.

"So what'd 'coach' say about you missing practice," I ask, falling back onto my bed and pulling him on with me; he climbs between my legs so that we are face to face.

"He told me to get better soon, said he couldn't practice without his 'star player'," he smirks, leaning down to invite me into a warm kiss. His lips moving against mine is the personification of heaven, and it makes my heart flutter each time they touch.

He continues to softly abuse my lips, licking and biting at them while soft whimpers involuntarily escape my lips. He then moves away from my lips and dips his head down to the crook of my neck, where he continues his work.

I tilt my head backwards into the mattress to grant him more access as I reach down between our bodies and gently grab hold of his bulge, which has formed in his sweats. A low groan flees his lips when I start palming him softly through the material.

"You feel that, baby? It's all yours," He breathes out, struggling to continue the work on my neck. I smile and bring him back to my lips so that I can keep feeling him, but it's not long before he breaks our contact again to speak, "I need your lips wrapped around me so bad,"

"Yeah?" I taunt, sitting up, causing him to also sit up. I slide off the bed and land on my knees in front of him while he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. I look up at him through my lashes as I grab hold of the waistband of his sweats.

He places his hands over mine and helps push them down to his mid-thigh. I examine the view in front of me, his large cock straining against his boxers, so much that there's a little wet patch on his boxers.

"Do I make you wet, baby?" I tease, grabbing hold of his cock still in his underwear. He leans his head back, giving me a view of his adam apple as he thickly swallows.

"You make me so wet," he agrees, his voice so low that by breathing too hard, you'd miss it. I finally pull his boxers down to where his sweats are and his cock springs free.

I spit into my hand before wrapping it around his base and slowly pumping it a few times until beads of pre-cum form at his tip. I lean down and lick him clean before bringing his tip into my mouth completely. I suck on his swollen head, releasing it only to swirl my tongue around it.

"Fuck- just like that," he mutters, tangling one of his calloused hands into my hair. Just as I'm about to place his dick back into my mouth, my bedroom door flings open.

"DAD?!" I shriek, quickly pulling away from Matt, jumping to my feet. Matt hurriedly pulls his boxers and sweats up, also jumping to his feet.

The door semi-closes after he realises what is going on, but he still stands behind it. "WHAT THE FUCK!" He yells. He's obviously livid. At this point, my face is painted red, and Matt also has blush covering his cheeks and nose.

"ARE YOU DECENT?!" He continues to yell. Oh God. How did I not even hear the front door open? And why is he back already? Did practice already finish?

"Yes," we both mutter in unison, lowering our gaze as he walks back in. I fiddle with a loose thread on my hoodie, trying to ignore the glares being thrown at us.

"Does anyone care to explain what is going on?" He asks more calmly but still very furious. I don't bother looking up, indicating Matt to speak.

"I'm sorry, coach," Matt apologises, his eyes glued to the ground. You could almost hear Matt's heart beating out from his chest, except that mine was much louder.

"I'm sorry? That's all you have to say to say after lying to me so that you could skip practice and sneak around with my daughter?!" He says, becoming more angry again, his voice bouncing off the walls.

We stood there in silence as my father's gaze tore us apart. I've never felt so humiliated in my entire life.

"Matthew, get out of my house, and you are never to see each other again, understood?" He speaks firmly.

"Dad, that's not fair!" I argue back, finally meeting his gaze. He couldn't decide who I could and couldn't see.

"I'm not arguing with you. He is leaving immediately and not coming back. He should count himself lucky he isn't already kicked from the team," He says, looking over at Matt.

Matt swallows, "I'm sorry, coach, bye y/n," he says, walking out of my room. Now that he is gone, the air is much denser, and the silence grew louder. My dad stood in front of me, not uttering a sound because the look on his face was speaking a million words.

"I'm so disappointed in you. You're going to stay in your room and think about your actions," he says, moving to also leave my room. As he grabs the door handle to close it, he mutters, "and you are to stay away from him," before closing the door shut.

The second the door closes, I hunt for my phone to shoot Matt a text. I tell him not to worry and that I'll try to explain the situation later, but he says that it won't change anything.

I feel horrible for dragging him into this mess. I single-handedly ruined hockey for him now, or at least hockey with my father.

A few hours have passed now, and my phone receives a notification. I open it to see a message from Matt. I don't have time to even read what it says before I hear a knock at my window.

I jump from the unexpected noise, and I look to see Matt crouched outside my window. I quickly go open the window to let him in.

"What are you doing here?!" I shout whispered at him, not wanting my father downstairs to hear me speaking to someone.

"Did y'really think I was gonna stay away from my pretty girl? Especially with blue balls," he laughs, bringing me into a quick kiss. I smile into the kiss, finding this all too amusing. Our kiss very quickly becomes deeper and more passionate with his hands raking up and down my body.

"Do you want to?" He asks, clearly referring to sex. I nod at his question, and he walks me backwards into my bed, making me fall onto it. While moving his lips deliberately against mine, he slips both of us out of our clothes until we're left in just our underwear.

He places gentle kisses all over my body, his hands gripping my hips, keeping me firmly in place as I squirm.

"Is the door locked this time?" He asks, looking up towards my bedroom door, I shake my head.

"Go close it, sweetheart," he encourages, pulling away from me. I stand up and go lock my bedroom door, trying to be gentle so that my father doesn't hear a thing. As I spin back around, I see Matt leaning against the headboard with his boxers pulled down and his hands firmly stroking his cock.

I timidly walk back to him and stand at his side, "c'mere, baby," he hushes, patting his thighs. I pull my shorts and soaked panties down at the same time before climbing over him to place my legs on either side of him. He rests both of his hands on my hips as I now comfortably straddle him.

He moves his middle finger to play with my folds, "shit, you're so wet. Is this all for me, hm?" he asks, slowly collecting the wetness that had formed. I nod my head and rut my hips on his hand, seeking even more treasure. "You're so impatient," he chuckles before removing his hand and bringing his finger to my lips so that I could suck it clean.

He then roughly grabs hold of me with one hand and uses the other to line his cock up with my entrance. He gives me a small tap to indicate that he's ready when I am, and I slowly sink down into his cock.

"Fuck, Matt," I moan, taking him fully, and he's already so deep. His head is slung backwards, resting against the headboard as I begin to rock my hips; I grab onto his shoulders for the minimal support they offer.

My movements become rougher and more ragged, causing the bed to creak slightly under our movements. He grabs onto my hips tighter, forcing me to move slower even though I wanted the opposite.

"Shhh, we have to be quiet, baby. Can't let your dad hear you riding me so good," he groans, his eyebrows furrowing but nevertheless fighting to keep eye contact with me.

I moan as a response and start bouncing on him instead. He notices my tits bouncing up and down in my top and lifts it up to get a better look. He brings both hands up to squeeze and play with them as I keep moving up and down but this only brings me closer to the edge.

"Matt...I'm gonna...come," I say, my movements becoming much more unsteady. My legs are becoming weaker, and I'm unable to keep up the pace. I then feel him move his hands back to my hips.

"Let me finish the job, pretty girl, you've done so good," he praises, gripping my hips intensely, forcing me to still but instantly replacing my movement by thrusting his hips up. He continuously rams into me, abusing my g-spot. I feel the heat in my lower stomach become unbearable, and I can't control it anymore.

"Fuck-I'm coming...fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant throwing my head back and grinding my hips to fuck him back. I feel his cock twitch, indicating that he's also close. I clench my pussy around him, encouraging him to shoot his cum deep into me.

"OH FUCK- baby, yes, just like that, you feel so good," he babbles, slowing his thrusts, fucking his cum into me. I collapse onto his chest, moulding our sweaty bodies into one. I'm panting heavily, trying to slow my breathing, and I feel Matt's heart beating roughly against my skin.

I finally have the strength to disconnect our bodies and look at him, "thank you, that was amazing," I smile.

"Thank YOU, you have no idea how much pain I was in," he smiles back. I give him a small peck on his lips before sliding off from him and onto my mattress. "Let me clean you up, pretty girl," he says, walking to get some tissue to clean his cum that is dripping out of my pussy and the remains of it from his dick.

He then laid back in bed with me but told me he had to leave soon because he didn't want to risk being caught by my dad again. I understood and didn't blame him; it was incredibly embarrassing the first time. We did not need a repeat.

Before I knew it, Matt was climbing back out of my window to leave. It made me sad that he couldn't stay longer, but I knew it was for the better right now.

As the night went on, I became more infuriated with the fact that my dad thinks he can control who I can see, well he can't. I finally reached breaking point, and I stormed downstairs to give him a piece of my mind.

"Why did you kick Matt out before?" I ask, trying to keep my cool. I stare at my dad, whose eyesight doesn't even wander from the hockey match playing on the tv in front of him.

"Because," he answered shortly. What kind of answer was that?? He can't just say 'because', who does he think he is?

"Because what?" I push further.

"Because he's on my hockey team, and I don't even know why you have boys in your room anyway. You're not allowed," he says, his eyes never leaving the tv.

"I'm nineteen, I'm not a little girl anymore," I say, already becoming upset with his answer. He can't treat me like a baby forever.

"You are a little girl. You don't understand boys and what they really want," he says, keeping his eyes firm on the tv. I can't believe this right now. How gullible and stupid does he think I am? I feel myself becoming more worked up over this than I probably should.

"I do understand because I'm not stupid, and I'm old enough to make my own decisions," I speak, becoming louder.

"No, you don't. Boys only want one thing, and that's to get in your pants," he says, his eyes finally meeting mine.

"Not Matt, he doesn't care about that. He cares about me," I say, swallowing harshly.

"Is that really what you think? God, you have a lot to learn," he scoffs.

"Yes, I do think that because Matt and I have been dating for over 4 months, and he's shown nothing but love for me. I'm sorry you and mom didn't work out, but that's not my fault. I'm gonna build my own relationships, and you can't do anything about it because they aren't your decisions to make. And if it bothers you that much, I'll move out!" I yell without thinking.

My mini rant made him fall silent, with nothing left to say he's just staring at me. Regret starts to seep into my thoughts. I shouldn't have brought up mom or threatened to move out.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," he says calmly, getting up from the couch and turning the tv off. I'm left frozen in place as I watch him walk to his room. I messed up.

I eventually find the willpower to walk back up to my room, and I can't help but let tears fall. I was curled up on my bed, thinking about everything. I wondered how my relationship with Matt was going to change and how Matt's relationship with his coach was going to change, and for some reason I even thought of mom, even though I hadn't seen her in years.

I let these thoughts infiltrate my mind until I feel my puffy eyelids become heavy. I wipe the remaining tears from my cheeks and pull the blanket closer. I fell asleep to the thought of Matt holding me closer, comforting me.

-

I'm woken by the sun beating down on my face through my gap in my curtains. I slowly sit up, rubbing my eyes so that they can adjust to the sunlight in the room.

As I walk downstairs, I see someone sitting at the kitchen table. Walking closer, I see that it's...Matt?

Before I have the chance to question him, my dad walks over. All three of us now in the kitchen.

"Y/n sit down," my dad says, reading my very confused expression. I pull out the chair next to Matt, giving him a small smile, which he reciprocates.

"I've been thinking, and you're right. You are old enough to make your own decisions, and I'm sorry for the way I reacted," he speaks, his voice laced with sincerity. "But you'll always be my little girl," he adds, his eyes watering slightly.

By now, my own tears are falling. "I'm sorry too," I sob, standing from my seat and going to hug him; he embraces me warmly.

As we break away from the hug, we turn to look at Matt, who is still sitting down, now smiling.

"I can't stop you guys from being together, but I'm not ready for grandkids yet, so please just-" he pleads, being cut off by Matt.

"Neither are we, sir, don't worry," Matt chuckles. My dad gives him a nod, walking out of the room; I walk over to Matt, wrapping my arms around him.

He tries to bring my lips to his, but I quickly pull away, "nope, I still have morning breath," I laugh.

He shakes his head and roughly pulls me to him, connecting our lips. I give him a quick kiss before pulling away again.

"I love you," I whisper, looking into his eyes, scared that I'd drown in them and never be found again.

"I love you more," he says, matching my tone.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, being lost in each other's eyes. And I pondered on the thought 'what would have happened if I never accompanied my dad to that practice session?'

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; that's a wrappp. i hope you guys enjoyed this, and thank you so much for all the support on my posts. 1.2k notes on JEALOUS and 300 followers??? that's insane, but I'm so so thankful for all everything. i love you all <33.

Taglist; @idrk2292 @aalixsturns @aalicats87 @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[augustjustice]

You're the One that I Want

@steddie-week prompts: dizzy, drunken confessions @stevieweek prompt: girls night @steddiemicrofic prompt: one | wc: 1111 words rating: T | tags: transfem steve harrington, platonic stobin, sleepovers, phone calls, love confessions

AO3 Link

When the phone rang right around eleven, Eddie had to admit he was sort of surprised.

Not that he was any stranger to nighttime phone calls. One caller in particular had become something of a regular, post-nightmare soothing sessions in the first weeks after Spring Break soon morphing into inane chats about anything and everything. 

But he knew she was busy tonight.

Eddie had been quick to learn, once he’d gotten closer to the Upside Down crew, that weekly Steve and Robin Nights were a sacred tradition. Ever since Stevie came out, the title had transformed into Girls Night, much like their very own lovely jock herself. 

The importance of the day, however, remained the same.

And, it being Thursday, Eddie definitely didn’t expect to hear from her tonight. 

Crossing the trailer, he mused over who it might be instead. Gareth, maybe, since he was still sorting out the kinks of his drum solo in Corroded Coffin’s latest song. 

“Joe’s Pool Hall,” Eddie chirped when he picked up. “We rack ‘em and stack ‘em so you don’t have to!”

“Munson!” Robin’s voice burst out over the line, loud enough Eddie pulled the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Stevie needs to tell you something!”

In the background, he could hear Stevie’s muffled Robbie, nooo.

“Stevie-Evie, come on! Tell him, tell him, tell him.” The speed at which Robin chanted her words left them slurred, tripping over each other. “Exactly what you told me. It’s like–sleepover law. You gotta.”

From the shrieks and incomprehensible arguing that broke out after, Eddie could surmise they’d fallen into a drunken scuffle.

Finally, Stevie’s voice rang out from the receiver. “Hi, Eds!” 

The happiness in her tone made actual butterflies erupt in his stomach. Goddamn, he was such a mess for this girl. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie answered, twirling the cord around one finger. “Sounds to me like you two lovely ladies are having a fun night.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. We totally were. But then Robin,” in her inebriated state, Stevie put extra emphasis on the end of her best friend’s name, “got this bright idea to play, like. All the girls’ sleepover games I missed out on because…well, you know.”

Though Stevie sounded put-out now, Eddie had no doubt the suggestion had delighted her. Indescribable fondness for both girls swelled in his chest. 

“That right? What game are you at–prank call the hottest future rock star you know?” 

“No, sillyhead!” Stevie tittered.

Eddie could practically see her, smile bright and nose scrunched up adorably. The image was so distracting, he almost missed Stevie’s next words. 

“I’m s’posed to call…” she dropped into a hushed whisper, the crinkling sound the receiver made suggesting she had cupped her hand around the phone, “my biggest crush!”

The sentence hit Eddie like a truck, nearly incomprehensible. He felt dizzy with it, the bottom of his stomach dropping out the same way it had on the Gravitron at last year’s Fourth of July Fun Fair. 

“S-Sorry, uh,” he stuttered out, “bad connection, I think. You know how shitty the service down at Forest Park can be. Cuz, for a second, I almost thought you said–”

But Stevie barrelled on, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You’re the one that I want!” she sang out.

Her voice carried all the passion and fervor as the times she was alone in the car with Eddie, taunting him with her favorite new pop hit, or when she and Robin were goofing off, having a dance off after hours at work. Eddie could hear it when Robin joined in for the follow-up chorus of Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!

The absurdity of it made Eddie cackle, momentarily distracted from the racing of his heart. 

“Harrington…did you seriously just sing Grease at me?” 

“I did not!” Stevie protested. 

Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised if she had punctuated that claim with a stamp of her foot. But she followed it up with a little hmph, contemplative. 

“–Well, yeah, okay. So what if I did? That-that isn’t the point. The point is…I want you, Eddie Munson.”

He gulped against the nervousness welling up in his throat. “Princess…you’re actually serious right now, right? This isn’t just, you know…the booze talking?”

“‘Course I’m serious, Eds. Don’t know how you didn’t notice–Robin said my mooning was getting so annoying. But that’s only cuz I’m like…totally in love with you, to be honest.” 

It wasn’t as eloquent and romantic, Eddie suspected, as a sober Stevie Harrington love confession would have been–but, heart flipping in his chest, he cherished it just as much. 

“Oh. Well, shit. Looks like…I better shape up, then.” 

And even though he knew what he was about to do would make him sound completely ridiculous–he couldn’t help but smile, knowing it would be totally worth it. 

So, Eddie took a deep breath and belted back, “Cuz my heart is set on you!”

“Eddie!” Stevie gasped like he had just performed a magic trick. “You know Grease?!”

“Stevie, you gotta swear you’re gonna take that one to your grave. But…sure I do, darling. You think I wouldn’t go out and see one of your favorite movies?”

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice was tempered by a sudden hint of shyness, the kind she usually hid behind a bold, confident exterior. Eddie knew exactly what that was like–and he felt lucky, that Stevie trusted him enough to let him see the vulnerability underneath.  

“Really really. I’m gone for you, Stevie. Have been for…well, hell. A really long damn time.”

Stevie sighed, lovelorn and wistful.

“Me, too.”

Eddie was really glad he wasn’t the one that was drunk right now, or he might have suspected he was dreaming.

“Wanted to tell you for so long–” But whatever sweet thing Stevie had been about to say was cut off, as she suddenly huffed into the phone. “Oh my God, okay! I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”

“All good over there?” 

“Sorry. Robin says I’m hogging the phone,” Eddie could practically hear her eye roll, before her tone turned mischievous. “Besides…now it’s her turn to call Vickie. Talk tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Stevie. See you bright and early.” Bright and early for Eddie usually meant around noon, but, for this, he was willing to make an exception. “And tell Buck–I owe her one.”

You’re welcome! he heard Robin sing-song just before Stevie hung up, evidence she’d probably been listening in on every word. 

As he wandered back to his bedroom in a daze, 11:11 blinked at him from the digital alarm clock on his bedside table.

Eddie didn’t even need to make a wish.

Travolta and his flying car had nothing on him. 

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

[alemi-i]

stars in your eyes :

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

# lmh x afab : reader ! ( fluff + smut )

cw : smut , exhibitionism , nonidol!au , degradation ( f rec. ) , slight overstim , creampie , brat reader , minho is a brat tamer though , face slapping ( 2 ) , namecalling : slut , whore , baby , brat . unprotected sex ( don’t try this at home ) !!

a/n ; hehe 🤗 im not very confideng witb my smut writing skills so JUST KEEP THAT IN MIND BEFORE READING….

wc : 1,726 ?!

an arm encased your body, resting around your waist. camping with minho and his members felt extremely therapeutic to you. 

the sun had already fallen, and you all had watched as it sunk into the ground. what you were truly waiting for was the shining stars that would litter across the sky. 

you first discovered your passion for stargazing when your sweet boyfriend took you out during midnight, so you both could admire the glitter in the sky; you weren’t sure whether to look at the stars that strayed across the sky, or the star that beamed just by your side.

admiring the sparkles, you hear shuffling beside your and minho’s bodies, your head cocks up to see seungmin and jeongin heading towards their tent.

“i’m off to bed!” seungmin declared, lips forming a light grin as he sees jeongin trail after him. everybody exchanges a goodnight to the two youngest boys, and your eyes meet with one particular star.

“d’you wanna head back to the tent too?” minho asked, voice hushed and honey-like. you simply nod, grinning the same way he does. “me and minho are off too!” you announce, both of you are quick on your feet, hands and fingers interlocking. 

“goodnight!” he exclaims, waving everyone goodbye as they greet you both goodnight. 

he drags you into your shared tent and you both lay down on the blanket that pillowed your sides.

minho spoons you whilst gently running his hands through your hair. you feel your eyelids flutter, on the verge of closing shut– until you feel a tug at your scalp.

you whimper, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle any other sounds that could escape. your hips grind against his, feeling the suppressed bulge in his pants push against your ass.

“what’s wrong baby? you’re grinding all over me.” he teases, whispering into your ear. “m-min..” you try to find the words, but your tongue falls short, instead releasing a breathy whine as he grinds into your back rougher. 

“cat got your tongue?” he taunts, halting his movements to let you breathe.

“yeah, you.” you spat, panting heavily from the stimulation. your head turns to face minho, who has now sat up. you turn to lay on your back.

he raises a brow, eyes narrowed and dark. he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “don’t be a brat,” he growled. “you and i both know it’s only me who could make you feel good.” 

he was right, but no way were you going to admit that. “yeah right, you wish.” you retort, ignoring the wetness that dampened your cotton panties.

his hand wraps around your neck, the other coming down to smack you across the face. you wince, mouth agape and cunt throbbing. he pulls you up, fingers tight around your neck, restricting your airflow.

his gaze is heavy on you, making you feel smaller than you already are. his tongue pokes at his cheek. your vision is blurry from the lack of air– his fingers finally leave your neck to grip your jaw. 

“you think you’re better than me, hm?” he questions, your eyes locking with his. 

“you know i am.” you mutter, a grin forming on your lips. you weren’t sure where you were getting this confidence, but it felt good to finally put minho in his place for once.

he chuckles, releasing you from his hold. “then show me.” 

your eyes are wide, and he cocks a brow. “what? y’want me to repeat myself?” he mocks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

“shut up– i know what you said.” you hiss, shoving the waistband of your shorts between your fingertips and pushing it down. 

he sucks in a breath, staring at the way your pussy has absolutely drenched your panties. he looks at you expectantly, and you quickly succumb to his gaze; your panties are off in not more than a second, and you whimper at the way your hot cunt is exposed to the cool air.

“what are you waiting for?” he sighs, feigning disappointment. “won’t you show me how good you make yourself feel?” his voice is thick and taunting you. 

“s-shut up.” you mutter, yet your hands travel down your body anyway, shivering at your own touch.

your fingers find your clit, rubbing soft circles around it. your whines pierce through the silence.

 minho shoves two fingers into your mouth. you instinctively begin sucking. “stop being so loud would you? the other members are trying to sleep.” your mind backtracks, had he cast a spell on you? how did his words alone erase such significant memory.

“or, is if that you want them to hear?” he whispers, and you’re quick to shake your head ‘no’. your free hand spread the folds of your cunt apart, your whines muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

you quickly shove two fingers inside, fucking yourself on them. you quickly realize the stimulation just isn’t enough– but your dignity is on the line here. you push in a third finger, moaning at the stretch.

“does it feel good, hm?” his eyes glancing at your wet, finger-filled cunt. you hum, signaling yes. “better than this?” his fingers exit your mouth, producing a pop sound. 

your eyes travel to his hands, that are quickly unhooking his belt buckle. he tugs down at his pants, revealing the black boxers you watched him put on earlier that day. you continue thrusting your fingers in and out, eyes locked on his bulge.

his cock is throbbing beneath the cloth, and your pussy becomes wetter. you bite your lip watching his boxers being pulled down, releasing his hard cock. you suppress a moan, eyes lingering on the dick you know too far and well.

his tip is angry; flushing red and leaking precum. you observe the way it twitches whenever your fingers sink knuckles deep into your cunt.

“y-yeah. way better than that.” you lie through your teeth, hand rubbing quicker circles on your clit. it felt good– however you couldn’t help but desire his fingers inside you instead. 

“lying slut.” he lowly grunts, a sharp sting spreading across your cheek. your whimpers increase in volume, before they’re suddenly turning into begging and babbles.

“fuck.. min– ‘m sorry! need your cock, please–“ “i-i lied, please fill me up!” you continue to beg, tears dripping down your face. he pulls your fingers away from your cunt; you’re whining at every single touch that’s his. his fingers, his hands, just his.

“you think you deserve my cock after being such a brat?” he spat, voice hushed to prevent waking someone up. 

all you could respond with are rambled apologies, praises, begging.

“so dumb and i’ve barely even touched you.” you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you can’t bring yourself to snap back.

“‘m so s-sorry, min!” you cried, before you’re suddenly moaning loudly, whining at the sudden stretch in your cunt. “s-shut up, dumb whore.” he pants, sharply thrusting into you, walls slippery and tight.

your hand covers your mouth as you spew muffled moans into it. though, you quickly notice that the stimulation didn’t feel fulfilling.

he deliberately thrusted into you, just missing your sweet spot. each thrust getting louder, faster– but not exactly deeper.

“what’s wrong baby?” he taunts, his voice is breathy and rough. your hand leaves your mouth, still biting back moans that threaten to spill. 

“min.. min, deeper!” you sob, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. your eyes roll back.

thankfully, he doesn’t resist, allowing his tip to kiss and poke at your sweet spot; your walls closing in tighter around his dick and your eyes squeeze shut. he groans, pounding into you with little mercy. your walls are squeezing him, while his fingers grip and bruise your hips. 

“stupid slut, i thought you didn’t need my cock, huh?“ he hissed, hips stilling as he’s deep inside you.

you whine, grinding against him. “‘m sorry, can’t live w-without your.. c-cock.” you whimper, your eyes flutter open to see his gorgeous face.

he scoffs, thrusting into you again– harder. “that’s right, can’t live without my cock, hm?” your cunt clenches around him, and you feel him pulsate against your walls.

“oh shit.. so good baby, feel so good around me.” he praises, and you moan in content. “f-fuck min! g-gonna cum!” you sob, squeezing him tighter. “shit,” he drags, head thrown back. “d-d’you really deserve to cum, hm? after being such a brat?” he groans, hips stuttering slightly.

“g-gonna be good, i promise! p-please, wanna cum..” your whines grow louder, as you’re inching towards your orgasm. 

“then cum.” he commands, your body subconsciously obeying. you see stars flickering over your vision. your juices drip down onto his cock, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts.

“you’re finished when i am.” he whispers, although it’s obvious he won’t last long.

he drags his cock against your fluttering walls, he’s throbbing inside you making you clench around him. you moan loudly, overstimulated and unbothered about the fact your friends are just next door.

“shit– gonna cum. you’re gonna take it, okay? take my cum like a good fucking slut.” he curses, voice thick and gruff. 

you babble multiple “yes”s, repeatedly squeezing around him to milk his cock. “want your cum!” you sob, squeezing him one more time before he’s dumping his hot seed in you. you whimper, wincing as he’s thrusting his load deeper into you. 

once he pulls out, you whine at the feeling of emptiness.

“you okay?” his touch is now gentle on you: pushing the uninvited strand away from your face, wiping the droplets of sweat off of your forehead, and gently pressing a kiss to your lips.

you nod, slightly shaking from the ‘workout’. smiling when minho’s arms embrace you as you doze off to sleep.

you’re awoken to the sound of giggling and yelling coming from outside the tent. you look around and minho isn’t by your side. you pout, before sitting up and unzipping the flimsy entrance. 

before exiting, you notice you’re dressed in minho’s shirt. it hangs upon your body loosely, but you feel so warm in it.

you struggle to get out, legs slightly wobbling. the sun flashes your eyes, and as soon as your presence is noticed, everyone bursts into shouts and laughter.

“minho!” the seven boys teasingly yell, all in synchronization. 

once your eyes adjust to the light, you see your boyfriend’s face hiding in his hands, and ears flushed a deep red.

so they heard.

[andreafmn]

Speak | Chapter 10

Word Count: 3.5K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 10/? Warnings: emotional and mental abuse A/N: can't believe I finished this on schedule! the story everyone is obsessed with for some reason just got updated😂🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!  Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 10

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Jacob suddenly asked as the pair made their way to his truck. "It's already so late and I don't wanna make the drive back to Forks right now."

"Uh, sure, that sounds great," she said, trying to contain her excitement. A surge of happiness took over her as she witnessed Jake trying. He was trying to keep them together, at least that's what it looked like to her. "I'll just let dad know."

"Yeah, sure."

After she had settled on the center of the seat, Jacob helped his father into the truck, stepping out to say goodbye to his friends.

"I'll let you know that there won't be any funny business under my roof, (Y/N)," Billy smiled teasingly. "Though I am glad that Jacob is seemingly trying to turn over a new leaf this new year."

"I promise we'll do nothing but sleep, Billy," she chuckled. "And I also hope this is a new start for Jake and me. That everything that happened stays in the past and we can just give it our all in this relationship."

"If it is meant to be, (Y/N), the universe will find a way," he said as mystically as he always spoke. "You deserve happiness, my child."

"People keep saying that," she responded, her eyes growing far more interested in the skin of her fingers. "Does no one think that Jake can make me happy?"

"That's not what I'm saying, (Y/N)," he smiled, his hand falling on top of the one she was picking. "All I am saying is that if the love and happiness that you deserve is with Jacob, then the universe will allow it."

"And if not?"

"Then, your paths will always align."

"Then let's hope that what's written on the stars is in our favor." And as she said that she didn't know if she was wishing that to convince him or to convince herself.

The three of them rode back to the Black residence in a comfortable silence. The sounds of the woods and the whistling of the wind filled their quiet. She wondered what they said. If they whispered words of encouragement or if they taunted her downfall. She wanted to believe it was the former, because the latter would wreck her.

"Well, you two. I trust that you will behave yourselves since you're under my roof," Billy told them, eyeing the teenagers suspiciously. "And don't start getting used to these sleepovers. This is only because it's already two in the morning and we are all tired."

"Dad," Jacob grumbled. "Just go to bed already."

"Ooh, never thought I'd be shooed away in my own home," the man chuckled. "But I will leave you two. Not because you told me so, but because I am tired. Good night, kids."

"Night, dad."

"Good night, Billy."

Billy rolled away to his bedroom, turning in for the night. He left the couple standing in the living room, a heavy and tense air blowing between them. They had yet to acknowledge everything that had happened between them, much less finally putting it to rest.

"Uh, I'll get you some clothes and you can shower first if you want," Jacob mumbled as he walked into his room before coming out with a folded t-shirt and some sweatpants. "Might be a bit big on you, but it's better than nothing. There're extra towels under the sink."

"Sure," she smiled. "Thanks."

There was still remnant awkwardness between them as they tried to waltz around unspoken words. She locked herself in the bathroom, finally allowing herself to breathe. Fresh start is what she told herself. Over and over again she told herself that they were having a fresh start. As she showered and cleaned away Paul's touch and the thought of him, she had to believe it.

Jacob was who she had always wanted. The boy she had grown up with, the one she had never forgotten. Still, her mind wondered what would have happened if Paul had been the one she had met first. If he had been the boy that was in her mind for the almost sixteen years she had been alive. Maybe she would have been standing in his bathroom instead of Jake's. Maybe she would have been wearing his oversized t-shirt.

"Hey," Jacob called softly from the living room as she opened the bathroom door. "Come here."

(Y/N) walked down the hallway to where he was, a smile stretching on her face as she was met with what Jake had done while she showered.

He had pushed aside the wooden coffee table that lived between the sofas and placed in its stead plush blankets and pillows, a pair of hot chocolate mugs in front of the fireplace. His long, wet hair was plaited back, and he had changed into pajamas. And he was waiting for her.

"What's all this?" (Y/N) smiled.

"I think it's about time we put things to rest already, (Y/N)," he said, patting the pace in front of him. "I don't like fighting with you."

"I don't like it either," she sighed contentedly as she sank into the warmth of his body, his arms wrapping around her. "I like things when they're like this. When we're together and happy."

"I know, and I want it to be like this all the time. But it can't be when I hear you're running around with Paul," he reminded her. His tone was soft, but his words were as snipping as a snake's bite. "I just can't stand the guy and it's embarrassing when it happens in front of the town."

"Jake, I..."

"Don't worry, baby, that's all in the past. As long as you promise not to see him again, (Y/N). I don't want you to fall into his trap."

(Y/N) couldn't remain quiet for long. She knew it would only work to anger him. But how could she promise something she didn't want to do? Something that her gut told her was wrong. "Of course," she lied. "I promise. Paul is a thing from the past."

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled before he turned her head to kiss her. "We need to focus more on us. Focus on our relationship."

"I would love that," she beamed. "I want this to work, Jake. I want us to work."

"Then let's," he smirked.

Jake attached his mouth to her neck, nipping at a spot that took her breath away. His hand held her head back, gripping her jaw. He took in her scent, the warmth of her skin, the sounds from her mouth. All as he imagined...

"Stop, Jake," she said, her voice treading between a moan and a chuckle. "Your dad is literally down the hall."

"He's a heavy sleeper," he chuckled against her skin. "He'll never know."

"No, Jake." She separated from him; a playful grin splayed on her mouth as she turned to face him. "Not here. Not now."

"Ugh, fine," he groaned, falling on his back. "Then, I guess we'll just sleep."

"Yes," she mused, crawling over his body and planting a soft kiss on his lips. "But together."

Jacob wrapped his arms around her and chuckled, positioning both of them comfortably on a blanket and draping another over them. Her body curled into his, his arms wrapped around her waist as he spooned her.

"We'll have to talk about taking things to the next level," he said against her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "I think it might cement everything between us."

"And I think you need to take a breather, Jacob," she chuckled. "We just got to a good place. Let's take things as they go."

"Ugh, fine," he muttered jokingly. "Then, let's just go to sleep."

"Alright, Jake. Good night."

"Night, (Y/N)."

If every night after was like this one, maybe it was the universe's way of telling her that Jake was the one. Laying there, wrapped in his arms, she could let herself believe that the tides were changing. That at the end of the day, Jacob would choose her. Maybe, just maybe.

***

"I can't believe she went home with him," Paul groaned, punching a nearby tree. The way the bark splintered helped ease his anger for a second, but the burning pain inside his chest remained. "I don't know what else I can do to make her understand what a shitty guy he is."

"You know there is," Jared teased. "You could always tell her how you feel and why."

Paul's stoic stare was clear even in the darkness of the night. He knew Jared was right. The more he pursued her without telling her the reason why, the harder it would be to explain his behavior. "You know I can't, dude," he grumbled. "I don't wanna put her in the middle of all of this bull."

"It's not that bad, man," the boy offered. "Look at me and Kim. She knows and nothing has happened to her."

"Yeah, she also liked you before you were a shapeshifting freak," he joked. "And look at Emily. She's forever scarred because didn't have a grasp on what was happening."

"Come on, you know that was an exception, Paul. What happened to her was a very unfortunate accident. But an accident, nonetheless. There's really no reason for you to be running from (Y/N)."

"Look how much shit happened to Bella in so little time, Jared. And it all started when she found out the truth about the Cullens," Paul said. "I don't know what I would do if I made (Y/N) go through any of that because of what I am."

"So you're gonna continue brooding and make our lives miserable? Just tell her, man. Maybe she'll fall in love with you and turn that frown upside down."

Paul picked up a stick and threw it at Jared's head, laughing as the other boy tried to duck but failed to; the piece of wood bouncing off his forehead. "You'll have to put up with me for a lot longer then," he laughed, swallowing the sadness that threatened to overtake him. "I just don't think I have it in me to do that to her. She deserves to be safe and happy."

"Even if it's with Jacob?"

"Unfortunately, that decision is hers to make," he sighed. "I just wish she didn't have to get hurt in the process."

Jared remained quiet for a second. He stared as his pack brother paced before him, his mind too quiet aside for the sporadic image of (Y/N). But even if he didn't say it, he could feel Paul's sadness. He could feel the tug in his chest that called him to go to her. He had felt it too. Every time Kim had to go to a family dinner or visit family out of state, he felt like someone had taken his heart off his chest and sent it away.

But (Y/N) was so close. All he had to do was have one tough conversation and he could soften the grasp of the claws that covered his heart. "What are you so afraid of, Paul?" Jared finally said. "I know you say you don't want to hurt her and all that, but there's something else. Isn't there?"

Paul stared at his friend, wondering if he was that transparent. "I've never been a, uh, a relationship guy. Haven't had the best role models," he confessed. "I guess I think that if I let myself get close to her, I won't be able to handle when she inevitably goes. Because at the end of the day, everyone leaves."

"Not everyone, Paul. We're still here."

"Because you have to be," he shrugged. "If you had the chance to go, you would take it. And don't try denying it."

"Come on, man. You're my friend. More than that, you're my brother," Jared reassured. "But, sure, if I had the chance to leave the rez one day, I would take it. But that doesn't mean I would leave my friends behind. Much less, family."

"Jared, we wouldn't have even spoken to each other had it not been because of the shift. I'm not that delusional to think otherwise."

"Regardless of how or why it happened, life brought us together, Paul. And whether you like it or not, you're my brother now," the boy smiled, draping his arm over Paul's shoulders. "Now, you need to let that girl prove that she would stick by you as well. And it starts by having that difficult conversation you're so scared to have. She's desperate for a reason, dude. All you have to do is tell her."

"She's going to think I'm crazy, J. That I'm making up stories to get her away from Jake," Paul whined. "Why would she believe that there are shapeshifting wolves roaming around the reservation protecting humans from threats? And what if she goes to her sister with the story? Then Bella will know about vampires and shapeshifters, and it'll just add more shit on top of the mess we're dealing with."

"How about you stop overthinking yourself into the ground and finally grow some balls?" Jared teased. "Don't think of what might happen and live in the moment. I know last year's Paul would've had the courage to ask her out. Jacob or no Jacob."

"I technically already asked her out once, and it ended up with me, by myself, in the diner," he reminded his friend, red flooding his cheeks as he recalled the embarrassing moment. "This is not just about inviting the prettiest girl in school to the prom. This is about telling someone that everything they had believed is not real. It's telling her that it doesn't matter what she might have wanted, that something out in the universe decided that we are bonded for life. It's telling a girl like her that she's stuck with a guy like me."

"Man, I can't keep trying to convince you that you are a good guy," Jared sighed. "I'm not saying you're the gods' gift to mankind. Certainly not the you from a year ago. But you're not that guy anymore. You're not even the same guy from six months ago. So, it's time to pick yourself up and do what you have to do. Stop moping about this and do something."

***

(Y/N) woke up with warm arms wrapped around her and a pang in her chest she didn't understand. She was supposed to feel happy. She was supposed to wake up that New Year's Day with an overwhelming amount of joy and the sense that things were finally on the right path. Instead, there was an aching void in her heart that was trying to eat at her insides.

It was the same void that had started festering since that fateful night at the bonfire. The one that seemed to calm whenever the fluke was around. The one that called out his name and she had let go on deaf ears.

That pang filled her with guilt. As she lay in Jacob's arms, she felt guilty that her head was thinking of another guy. And it was a guy she barely knew. A boy that she had no business thinking about, much less dreaming about.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't forget the softness of his hands against her skin, the brightness of his smile as he looked at her, the glimmer in his eyes when he listened to her. She couldn't get him out of her head.

And as if by divine intervention, the very constant thought appeared in Jacob's window. He knocked softly, motioning for her to go outside. (Y/N) couldn't believe he was there, much less that Jacob had yet to wake up. But what was harder to fathom was the fact that she was tiptoeing to the front door dragging a blanket with her.

"What are you doing here, Paul?" (Y/N) said as she closed the door behind her, wrapping the fabric tighter around her body. "If Jacob sees you here, he'll kill you."

"I thought I was supposed to be playing nice with him," he grinned teasingly. "What if I was here to extend a truce?"

"It wouldn't have mattered because he made me promise him that I wouldn't see you again," she whispered. "So, imagine what he will do if he sees you here right now."

"And did you?"

"What? Did I what?"

"Did you promise him, (Y/N)?" Paul asked sadly. "Is this your way of telling me that you're cutting ties with me?"

"No, of course not," she quickly replied. "I mean, I did promise him. But I never intended to keep it. I would just find a way to keep you two separate."

"So, what? I'd just be your dirty little secret?" he replied, anger clear in his tone. "Yeah, no, thanks. I'd rather take my chances with other friendships."

"What did you want me to say, Paul? Did you want me to tell my jealous boyfriend that I wanted to maintain a friendship with the one guy he seems to despise more than anything?" (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth. "Would you have wanted me to tell Jake that I wanted to spend time with a guy he was close to dragging into the middle of town and beating the living daylights out of him? Sure, that would have ended great for me."

"Why would you wanna be with a guy like that, (Y/N)? If you're that afraid of his reaction over something as small as a friendship, what do you think will happen if something bigger happens?"

"He only reacts that way with you, and I don't get why," she sighed. "And I wanna be with him because I... because... because I..."

"Why, (Y/N)? Tell me!"

"Because I love him, Paul," she cried, shame cracking her voice. "I've been waiting for this chance for the better part of my life. I've been in love with him for as long as I've known what it was. And he wants me back, Paul. He wants me. And I'm not giving up at the first sign of hardship. So, if you really want to be my friend then you're gonna have to live with that."

"What if I don't?" Paul grumbled, his voice low and hurt. He got closer to her. So close she could feel how warm his body was, even through the blanket. "What if I can't stand around and watch as he mistreats you? Someone that loves you would never treat you like that."

"Don't make this harder than it already is, Paul," she whispered, warm tears falling down her cheeks. "For some reason I want you in my life. But I won't screw up what I just started with Jacob for a friend."

"I just don't wanna see you like this," he said, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumbs. "You deserve to be happy, but not when it has rules and regulations like this. You should be allowed to still be yourself when you're in a relationship."

"Paul..."

"Listen, (Y/N)," he sighed. "I can't tell you what to do, nor would I want to. But I can't just watch in the sidelines as he treats you like shit when you deserve someone that will worship the ground you walk on."

"What are you saying, Paul?" (Y/N) croaked. "Are you saying you won't be my friend if I stay with Jacob?"

"(Y/N), I'm saying that I won't keep quiet if he keeps mistreating you."

"He doesn't," she said, but she knew it wasn't convincing. She didn't even believe it herself. "He just... he's just passionate, I guess."

"Then can you promise me something?" Paul sighed, his eyes glossing with tears. "If he ever –and I mean ever—gets physical with you, even as much as lifts his hand at you, you will tell me. The second it happens, you call me."

"I don't think it'll come to that," she forced a smile. "He would never put his hands on me."

"Just, please, (Y/N). Promise me and don't lie to me."

"Alright," she said, looking straight into the brown of his eyes. "I promise, Paul."

"I'll make sure you're always safe," he promised. His hand had not fallen from her face, his thumb caressing over her cheekbone. "No one is going to hurt you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) had no idea why, but she believed every word he said. So, she promised. And, unlike with Jacob, she intended to keep it.

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[starboye]

starring: nerdy!matt sturniolo x male reader

request: matt helping you study (or at least trying to) and you're to horny to even focus so you tease matt the whole time

warnings: smut, cursing, teasing, edging, blow job, nerdy!matt

"c'mon matt you got this just read the paragraph" you coo as if you didn't have your hand wrapped around his cock slowly pumping away, he offered to help you study for your upcoming test but this isn't what he meant, but maybe it was his fault for agreeing to study while laying in bed knowing you would very well do this to him "ngh please y/n we have to study" matt whimpered, his thighs twitching with each slight move of your hand, i mean how could matt be so dumb to think you would actually call him over just to study.

"don't worry about me i'll ace the test because i have my very smart boyfriend to help me study, right" you tease rubbing you thumb across his aching leaky tip "i mean how would i ever do anything with out you helping me" you says kissing his cheek and moving down to lay small kisses on his neck "please" matt whispers "m'gonna need you to speak up matty" you taunt him and now he's not sure how much more of this torture he can take before he blows "ple- mm fuck y/n... please suck me" matt lowly repeats.

"happily" you quickly kiss him before your traveling down and getting comfy in between his legs, you fully take off his underwear and pants and lick his tip, flicking the beads of pre cum onto your tongue "mmm you taste so good matt" you smile before you start slapping his dick onto your tongue, matt by now has thrown the book somewhere onto the bed and as much as he didn't want to bring his eyes to your, fearful of the effect it might have on him he couldn't stop looking at you.

you sunk your mouth onto his twitchy dick and bobbing your head up and down, matts hands flew to grip the sheets of your bed tightly, watching your actions through fluttering eyelashes "fuckkk" matt let out broken guttural moans that sounded like he was on the edge of cumming but you quickly pull off his dick, jerking him off to make up for the loss of your mouth "i cant have you cumming that quick now can i" you tease even more, your hand moving at an agonizingly slow pace that left him just on the edge but never cumming.

"fuck y/n... please i wanna cum" matt whines, thighs twitchy to the touch of your hand "i know but you can hold it for just a little longer" you say leaning down to kiss his thighs, one hand moving to fondle his balls a little "mm mm" he shakes his head, biting down on his lip to silence his moan, he was thanking god that you're family wasn't home right now to hear him and his whiny noises.

you wanted to draw this out for longer, edge him on again and again just to ruin it but his cute face scrunching with each of you teasing moves made you take pity on him, you sink your mouth back onto his cock and resume bobbing your head up and down till matt was writhing uncontrollably in his place before cumming in your mouth, loud whimpers flood from his mouth just as his cum floods your mouth.

you bring your head up and wipe your mouth of the arousal before crawling towards his dazed face and kissing him, you lay flat on his huffing chest "we should study together more often" you say snuggling into him "ye... yeah definitely" matt says finally coming back to his senses "did you really study for that test though" matt asks now rubbing you back "nope" you say unbothered making matt roll his eyes.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Leona, Floyd: Feud within the Family

They caught him mid-yawn in the initial art 😭 I SAID THIS TO SOME FRIENDS (not even in a thirsty way, just a casual comment) AND THEY INSTANTLY JUMPED ON ME OTL (if any of them are reading this, yes, I am calling your asses OUT for bullying/j)

I thought the Groovy was of Mufasa, Sarabi, and baby Simba but apparently it’s adult Simba, Nala, and their daughter, Kiara?? 😭 Most animated lions look the same to me, so I never would have caught that… Anyway, L*ona looks absolutely unhinged and super smug there… Bro looks like he’s talking down to someone groveling at his feet for mercy—

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Heeeeeey~"

Leona turned away from the call. Cool, nonchalant—theoretically, anyway.

"Heeey."

He pretended to be absorbed in a stone bust of the King of Beasts. The meddling source of the sound (unfortunately) followed him, much as he tried to shunt it out of his ears.

Leona sighed deeply.

Aaaah, what a pain in the ass. I’m really not in the mood for seafood.

"HEY."

A growl threaded through Floyd’s voice as he stomped over, thrusting his face into Leona’s. The lion beastman groaned. He recognized that fire in Floyd’s eyes all too well.

Determination.

“Quit runnin’ away and fight me already,” Floyd gruffly demanded.

He had been tailing Leona all day, pelting him with the same challenge over and over—alas, to no avail. Now he had the third year boxed in a dark, isolated corner. Floyd gleefully gnashed his teeth, raring to go for a scrap.

He won’t take a regular old ‘no’ for an answer. If it’s come to this then…

He’d lead his pursuer off the beaten path.

“Hmph, how rude,” Leona grunted, at last granting the eel his attention. “Can’t a man appreciate the arts without being accosted? I’d rather not be bothered while I’m in the middle of browsing.”

“You? An art aficionado?” Floyd scoffed in disbelief. “Fat chance, Sea Lion-senpai. You’ve never been into that stuff. It’s not nice to lie to your juniors like that.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Leona drawled, his voice as smooth as liquid velvet. He took to telling untruths so easily, it was an innate skill. “I’m a prince with refined taste. Can’t you tell I’m over the moon and stars to be at this exhibition?”

Floyd deadpanned. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up just like Jellyfish-chan.”

“Nonsense. I’m absolutely thrilled. In fact, i can hardly contain my excitement. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to not talk my classmates’ ears off about the illustrious history of Sunset Savanna.”

“Yeah? Prove it, then.”

Tch. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Leona grimaced internally.

He was careful to maintain his relaxed poise as he gestured to the painting that was mounted along the wall. “Take a look at that.”

“Huh, what is it?”

Underneath a cornflower sky and thin, cottony clouds, was a red-maned lion and his lioness. Between them, a mandrill cradled a wide-eyed cub. The composition made it clear: it was a painting of a family.

“One of the great kings of the past,” Leona simpered, irony oozing from his every word, “and one of the great kings of the future, if that furball is anything to go by. The parents must cherish their child a great deal. Spoiled and pampered like that… surely the cub will make for a splendid ruler.”

“Ehehehe~ You sound so salty there, Sea Lion-senpai.” Floyd leaned closer, taunting him. “Reciting sappy stories like that don’t suit you.”

“So I’ve been told.” Leona folded his arms and snorted. When he beheld the painting, disgust and envy curled in the pit of his stomach. “… Reminds me of my brother. His life’s always been one big fairy tale—and now he’s got a wife and a kid of his own.”

“Heh. So Sea Lion-senpai definitely feels like the odd one out.”

Leona glared at his junior. “… You don’t have a lick of tact, do you?”

“Ahahah!” Floyd cackled, all too carefree. “What’re you so mad about? ‘S not a bad thing.”

Leona watched him with a wary eye. Floyd paced lazily, as though he were a lion himself. Stewing in the shade, waiting for his next meal to skitter into his waiting paw.

“Who wants to fit in with family? That’s boring. It’s better to just do what you want and be yourself. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

“I hate it when people say Jade and I are the same or they mix us up. Jade’s Jade and I’m me. Two different people.”

“I’m sure your dear brother would shed a tear hearing you talk like that.”

Floyd just shrugged. “I don’t get it. You wanna be like that? It’d be weird.”

“But it’s not about fitting in,” he wanted to snap. “It’s about wanting to shine, to stand out, to be seen. For that moment out of the shadows and basking in the sun.”

They look at me, but they don’t see me.

They never will.

People played in the daytime while sleeping through the lovely night. In the savanna governed by the sun, shadows were scorned and casted aside.

Leona’s throat dried. The moisture gone, as if hungrily devoured by his King’s Roar.

He forced his voice to come again, snarky and sarcastic.

“Hmph, I never said that. You slimy bunch grew up at the bottom of the sea, where the light cannot touch. I’d think you understand what it’s like clawing and kicking and fighting every day to survive.”

And just barely making it out in one piece.

His hand drifted toward the scar over his left eye.

“… Anyway, I wasn’t askin’ for your advice. You should stick to annoying that octopunk.” Leona smirked. Again, concealing. “Keep it in the ‘family’, you know.”

Floyd stared at him intently. Then he let out a burst of laughter. “You’re a riot, Sea Lion-senpai! I don’t even feel light fighting you anymore. It’s just as fun to shoot the shit with ya.”

“That so? You flatter me. Surely there are better conversationalists in Octavinelle, with all those silver tongues.” Leona made a shooting motion with his hands. “You should run back to your school of fish to compare.”

Another fit of sporadic giggles. When they, at last, died down to an eerie quiet, Floyd’s whisper was as loud as a shout in a cavern.

“At the end of the day… we’re both beings that lurk in the dark~”

Leona grunted. “… Who needs the light anyway?”

Deep down, he knew the truth.

It was him who needed that light the most.