#he will slap the shit out of things and/or people if prompted

[the-official-account]

I've finally had success getting some full-bodied & front facial angles of spar! And also drew Jakub. These all came from jokes and/or requests in the Many of Hearts discord

[Drawings of characters from the Three of Heart podcast. The first is A black and white sketch of Spar, a Hispanic man sitting casually. He wears professional slacks and no shirt, and has a sword strapped to his back. The second is a drawing of Vellum, a tall, Asian man holding a cane, and Spar. Here, Spar is wounded, with a bloody nose and bruised eye and cheek. His skirt is loosely unbuttoned to show a bandage on his stomach. He's smiling, and muttering affectionately to vellum, who help support his weight and is carrying the harness of Spar's sword. Vellum says, "Spar, please stop trying to flirt with me I think you have a concussion."

The third and Last image is Jakub, a pale skin, blonde catboy in his boxers. He's posed halfway through being startled as he looks down at a large, crudely drawn dildo (In the style of a graffitid penis). All his hair stands on end. End ID.]

@threeheartscast @ilaalexei @citrusandsalt

[deadsetobsessions]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPING A MAFIA BOSS

In Tucker's defense, he thought he was doing someone a favor. A life saving favor, in fact.

"What the fuck-!” The red helmeted guy yelped as a deceptively strong Tucker yanked him onto the bike and sped away. Before Tucker could explain, the GIW agents behind them got in a lucky shot and hit the helmeted liminal with a strong blast to the head.

Clearly, his gear wasn’t equipped with anti-ecto protections, because the guy slumped over on Tucker’s arms. This was bad, because Tucker now had to maneuver about 230 pounds of Gotham muscle while speeding away from government agents. He flicked on the jammer so they couldn’t track his and red helmets’s ecto signature.

“STOP!”

“Ah, shit.” Tucker cursed as he somehow managed to gather up red-helmet’s body and stabilize the bike. “C’mon, Tuck, you can do this.”

Blasts of anti-ecto tech slammed into buildings around him. Luckily, Gotham was used to this kind of shit so people just moved out of the way before going back to their day. Tucker wove around traffic, trying to lure the agents into slamming face first into some signposts.

“Stop damaging the local infrastructure!” Tucker yelled back at them, speeding up.

“WELL REIMBURSE THE PEOPLE AND THE CITY LATER! TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!!”

“Over my dead body, you jerks!” Tucker took a sharp right, catching red helmet before the man could slip off. He sped up and took the ramp downwards, heart beating loudly in his ears as he strained his senses to figure out- ah, they took the ramp upwards. Good. Now, all he has to do is bring red helmet back to home base.

“Oh my god. I kidnapped him,” Tucker groaned, slapping at his face before quickly placing his hands back on the handle bar once the bike teetered over with red helmet’s weight. “I’m a criminal. Oh my god.”

Then, as he found his way back, “…Well, it’s not like I wasn’t a criminal before, with the whole resisting arrest thing.”

——

Tucker dumped the red helmet liminal onto the couch of their shared apartment and went to take a shower. When he got out ten minutes later, he found Danny and Sam staring at the helmet guy. Tucker pushed up his glasses (after letting them defog from the shower) and greeted them.

“Hey, guys! I found him while I was running away from Agent L and J.”

“You okay?” Danny asked, eyes immediately flicking over Tucker for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m good. They’re horrible shots.”

“I thought Danny was the one who brought home strays but you…?” Sam commented, arms crossed and a purple painted nail tapping at her arm. “Wait. Isn’t this… that crime lord? What was his name?”

“Red Hood?” Danny offered, turning back to look at the guy on their couch.

Tucker paled. “Oh, no.”

Guns? Check.

Red Helmet? Check.

Bat-Symbol? Check.

Shit.

They collectively stared at the guy in silence.

“…Tucker,” Sam slowly said. “Did you accidentally kidnap a crime lord?”

“Hey, I didn’t want him to get killed! He’s liminal! Even more than us, except for Danny.” Tucker grumbled. “Man, this is why I leave the hero-ing to Danny. I do one good thing and suddenly I have a crime lord on my couch.”

“My couch,” Sam corrected, as she was the one that furnished their apartment.

“What do we do now?”

“Eat dinner,” Tucker said. “I’m famished.”

Sam nodded. “Wait for him to wake up and hope he doesn’t shoot us the moment he wakes up. Then, we explain.”

Danny grabbed all the visible guns he could see. Tucker went to start dinner. Sam supervised, because her boys were idiots and now she had a crime lord in her apartment.

——

Jason groaned, head swimming in a sea of dull throbbing pain as his eyes fluttered open.

Then he remembered he was abducted, and bolted up right. He paused as a series of quick observations made its way to his consciousness.

One. He’s not tied up. Weird, because everyone knows that he’s a weapon even without his weapons.

Two. His weapons were right there, just in reach.

Three. He was surrounded by teenagers and/or young adults who were all scrolling along on their phones.

“Oh, hey, he’s awake! Hi!” The Wayne bait said, electric blue eyes fixing itself on Jason. “Were you aware you died?”

Jason went rigid, hundreds of way to-

“Danny!” A scolding tone cut of Jason’s immediate panic. Two couch pillows slammed into Danny’s face, courtesy of goth girl and nerdy but strong.

“Dude, why do you start with that? Why are you like this?” His… possible kidnapper? asked, exasperatedly flinging his hands into the air as he rolled his eyes.

Goth girl scowled. “Boys. Crime lord, couch, remember?”

“Hey, in my defense, I died too!”

And that- as Jason remained dumbfounded in this circle of tomfoolery- was what snapped Jason out of his daze.

“You what?” He rasped out.

And when he saw them open their mouths at the same time, Jason just knew his headache was going worse.

——

Tucker, effortlessly plucking the actual red hood from the streets: and I whoop-

Jason, whose type is strong, nerdy, and tall: *heart eyes* *but not really because he’s unconscious*

——

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker.”

Jason enters chat:

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker and his boyfriend, the Red Hood.”

——

[on-a-lucky-tide]

A funny prompt: Gaz’ No-Good, Terrible, Very Bad day. In which in the span of 24 hours he walks in on NikPrice, GhostSoap, then AleRudy bumping uglies because those pairs of idiots keep having sex in weird places and Gaz keeps having to bare witness.

How you wanna play it is up to you, but I love the way you write Gaz and I wanted to lean more into the comedic side of sexy times rather than the hot n heavy stuff this once.

Mikey, I love you for this prompt. I actually wrote it all out and then Tumblr shat itself. Serves me right for writing in the app on my phone, eh? I hope this redo is as good. Two of my favourite things: humour and sex.

Gaz has a really bad day.

cw: sexual content.

Really, Gaz should have called it a day when he had decided to have a Rich Tea with his breakfast brew and the fucker had broken off in it because he had gone zero point one second over the optimum dunking threshold. Bad omen. Yeah, pack it all up lads, turn in.

If someone were to ask him precisely when his day had gone to shit, he would definitely say it was then, because if he had to recall the next part he was pretty sure he'd require several sessions of therapy.

It was unusual for the store cupboard to be locked, which was his first warning that something was amiss. But airpods in and his mind on the afternoon's planned exercise with Bravo Company, he didn't think much of it. There were only five people on base with a key, so it was easier to leave the door unlocked. When it came time for inventory at the end of the week, Price was disturbingly effective at nailing anyone with sticky fingers so no one bothered pushing their luck.

As DJ Snake turned down for what and the beat dropped, Gaz tugged his lanyard out of his shirt and jammed the key in the lock. Shouldering the door open, he slapped a hand over the light switch and looked up at the same time, only to be faced with Lieutenant Riley's lily-white arse pounding between two hairy legs directly opposite. "What the fuck?"

Gaz practically slapped himself in the face in his haste to snatch the airpods from his ears and cover his eyes with his palm. He heard rather than saw Tav slide down the wall he'd been pinned to, and the resulting yelp as he hit the concrete floor.

"Did ya ma no' teach ye tae knock?" Tav squawked.

"You're in the store cupboard, Tav! The fucking store cupboard!"

"We locked the door..."

"He has private fucking quarters, which is... literally what they could be used for, fuck my life!"

Ghost cleared his throat and Gaz chanced a look through the slats of his fingers. He regretted it almost immediately when he glimpsed the lieutenant's monster hog, which was somehow three times the size hard as it was soft, according to the sparse glimpses Gaz had snatched in the shower. Professional curiosity, you know. Ghost was completely unfazed, standing there with it all just hanging out. "Uh, sir, if you could..."

"What'd'ye want, Garrick?" Tav growled, pulling his hoodie over his lap to hide whatever gaping devastation the lieutenant had inflicted.

"Camelbak skin. Top shelf on the left."

Gaz heard a box grind over the metal shelf and the split of plastic sellotape. When the rustling stopped, he looked through his fingers again and saw Ghost holding the skin out for him to take. He hadn't even pulled his boxers up, his hard dick still on full display. Gaz sidled over, keeping his face turned away, and took the offered plastic parcel. "Cheers," he murmured awkwardly.

"Welcome," Ghost rumbled back, and if Gaz didn't know him better, he'd say the bastard was laughing at him. Seconds later, he hightailed it out of there as quickly as he could, pinching the bridge of his nose and hoping the image of all that pale skin thrusting away between Tav's hairy stalks wasn't going to haunt his fucking nightmares. Luckily, he had a fitness course to coordinate that afternoon, which would help take his mind off of it.

No such fucking luck, as it transpired.

As Bravo Company were taking a breather after making good time over the course, Gaz snuck off into the woodland for a quick slash before they moved on to first aid training. As he rounded an old oak tree, he caught the sound of hushed voices over the usual bird song and rustle of leaves. Little fuckers had snuck off for a smoke and thought he wouldn't notice.

He did up his fly, put on a stern face and readied his most blood-curdling shout as he stomped in their direction. The 'oi, ya little cunts' sat on the tip of his tongue as he burst through the bushes, only for it to dissolve into a high-pitched little 'ah!' when he came face to face with Rudy, slack-jawed and sweaty.

Colonel Vargas was two knuckles deep in him, Rudy's cock drooling over his superior's wrist, hips twitching. That was all Gaz managed to see before he swung himself round and covered his eyes for good measure. The low voice he had heard must have been some truly filthy Spanish, because Rudy looked about ready to blow.

"Hola, sergeant," Alejandro said calmly. "¿Qué tal? I thought you were not due in the woodlands until tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah, orienteering is... tomorrow, sorry, colonel, I thought you were trainees, I, uh..." Gaz glanced over his shoulder and saw that Alejandro had moved his body to shield Rudy from view. He whispered something softly in Spanish in his lover's ear, because Rudy was hurriedly yanking up his trousers, his belt rattling, looking panicked.

"It is I who must apologise, amigo. I cannot control myself with Rudy, and with all this nature around us, I let my heart lead my head," Alejandro said. "I would be... grateful if this indiscretion did not get to the captain."

"Uh, sure, mate, yeah. Mum's the word... I'm gonna... go this way. As you were, or... not." Gaz hotfooted it back through the bushes, his face on fire, and was relieved to find some troopers slacking off because he had someone to beast. Seriously, this day could fucking do one. It couldn't get any worse.

Famous. Last. Fucking. Words.

First aid training concluded in time for dinner and Gaz sent the troopers to mess. He didn't go himself because he wasn't sure he could look Tav or Ghost in the eye just yet. Instead, he headed to his bunk and snacked on some Pringles as he finished off a report on the week's progress for Price. And yeah, he left out the sheer volume of unnecessary cock he had seen that day.

Last thing on the day's list was to submit the report and he could turn in, hoping that tomorrow had less cock and arse on the agenda for him. He rapped twice on the captain's door and let himself in, missing the sudden scuffle of movement as the hinges creaked. "Hey, sir, got the summary ahead of sched-u-oh, Nik."

Nik was sitting in Price's chair bolt upright, his hands in his lap beneath the desk, shoulders squared. "Gaz, my brother," Nik greeted, but his voice sounded a little... tight. "Kak dyela?"

"Where's... the..." Gaz studied Nik a bit more carefully and began noting a few more oddities. His skin was flushed, eyes blown wide, usually slick hair all ruffled out of place, and he was shifting minutely in his chair, but keeping his feet very, very fucking still. "He's..." Gaz pinched the bridge of his nose, "he's under the desk, isn't he?" Because of course he fucking was.

Nik flashed a mischievous smirk.

Gaz sighed. "Jesus fucking Christ..."

Nik bit his lower lip and then opened his mouth to say something, but Price got there first, his voice low, rough and husky from his hiding place beneath his own desk. Probably from where he had just been gobbing off Nik's--no, no, for Gaz's own sanity he just couldn't finish that thought.

"Leave the report on the desk," Price growled.

"Yup, right, it's on the desk," Gaz replied, getting as close as he could to be able to chuck it on the keyboard without risking seeing Nik's cock next to his captain's face. "Have a, uh... a good..."

"Garrick," Price snapped.

"Right, yeah, going. Going."

Nik waved at him as he left but Gaz could do nothing more than cringe his way back into the corridor. Three for three. Fan-fucking-tastic.

There was no way he was getting any sleep after that. Gaz headed for the mess and a cup of tea. Maybe if he managed to dunk the biscuit properly, the day would stop fucking with him.

He was completely engaged in a thousand yard stare when Tav slid onto the bench opposite. Gaz gave him the side eye. "Surprised you can sit down."

Tav smirked. "Aye, s'taken some practice."

"Nope, no, no more. It's gonna take years of therapy, decades, to get over seeing that man's arse between your legs."

"Dunno what yer whinin' about, ah've got bruises from where the fecker dropped me."

Gaz snorted. "Good."

"Look, ah... ah came tae apologise. It weren't decent, an', uh..."

"Mate," Gaz sighed, slapping his hands on the table as he sat up. "The shit I've seen today, Ghost's pale arse ain't even the half of it." He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Do you fuck in there a lot?"

"Oh aye, and other places."

"Oh god..."

Gaz's eyes narrowed as Tav turned in his seat and extended a leg. That was an exit manoeuvre. Tav rolled his lips into his mouth, smirked, and then landed the killer blow. "Pretty sure we've done it in yer bunk."

"You cun--oi, c'mere you rat Scottish bastard!"

Tav fled cackling and Gaz followed with full intent to put a few more boot-shaped bruises on his arse. Perfect end to his no-good, terrible, very bad day.

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

[deadghosy]

ੈ🎐༄˖°.〰˚✩彡

BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH AANG:

prompt: being the same age as Aang, mostly the avatar has it perks considering you two are polar opposites

🐚 ྀ࿓it’s dead ass funny seeing two 12 years argue who sheds more, momo or appa. Katara would have to pull you off of Aang before you slap this little Mr clean head ass boy.

🐚 ྀ࿓for shits and giggles, you have definitely got launched in the air. You were begging Aang to just launch you in the air. Because you always dreamed of it since you met this airbender.

🐚 ྀ࿓Aang is pretty much protective of you if you can’t bend. So if you are a non bender, you better believe this boy makes sure you are by his side at all times of the traveling. Even after he finishes the Hundred year war. He’s the avatar, of course there’s still petty ass people after him.

🐚 ྀ࿓now if you weren’t a non bender and had a bending skill of some sort, he is still protective of you. You could be a master at bending, and this dude will still make sure you are behind him in danger. You two are such a powerful duo when bending, now a good trio is you, toph, and Aang at all once.

🐚 ྀ࿓you two are basically platonic soulmates who are always found by each other. Like that one time you went to go shopping at a market, and Aang followed you secretly since it’s his job to protect you at all time. Or that one time you lost Aang in the crowd and he immediately found you by your voice in an instant.

🐚 ྀ࿓”I’m gonna kill that asshole…” “please don’t.” Those words basically describes your friendship with Aang. Literally after Aang got his grow spurt and he was taller than you, you better believe this now wise boy would put you on his shoulder to drag you away from fights.

🐚 ྀ࿓you are the chaos in the peace and he is the peace within the chaos. You two are two peas in a pond, yin & yang. You have your moments where it’s the opposite sometimes. But where’s the fun when you create the problems whilst Aang has to drag you away from causing more problems.

🐚 ྀ࿓smack his head…he dares you. He knows you do it for jokes. But this boy is tired of having red hand marks on his head and feeling the painful burn.. if you did one more time, he is actually putting you in rock time out. You could try to get out. But this airbender is making sure he is having a kick out of this.

🐚 ྀ࿓when training with Aang, he tries to go easy on while you don’t. Of course you care about Aang deeply like he does for you, but you ain’t no pussy. You literally used chi blocking on him cause he hesitated blasting you away with his airbending. At the end you had to smack his head for trying to not blast you. And of course he still didn’t learn his listen as he just dodges.

🐚 ྀ࿓Aang is very affectionate person, everyone knows that. So of course he is holding your hand, waist if you allow it, wrap his arm around your shoulder. He might not be that much of a touchy person, but it feels nice to have the person that’s like his other half by him.

🐚 ྀ࿓cuddles is a must if you or him have a bad day. Yes you once snored while trying to move away from the airbender in your sleep. Aang wasn’t letting that happen at all cause he pulled you to his chest as he falls asleep.

🐚 ྀ࿓random arguments with Aang is also a must as you two argue over the most stupidest things ever. Say for example, your favorite book was gone. So you accused Aang of using it for something actually dumb. Aang got offended as he dramatically gasp and blamed you instead for being so dense for not keeping up with your stuff. And that’s where you would tackle him and start hitting his head. Mostly smacking his bald head cause it’s funny😭

🐚 ྀ࿓this sweetheart of an airbender will teach you about his culture. Now if you are part of one of the nations, you teach him your nation of course. It’s like trading Pokémon cards for more Pokémon cards. He will probably do something so you can wear an airbender outfit, just so people can see you two are best friends for life. Literally.

🐚 ྀ࿓I can see you trying to ignore Aang for something petty, and Aang is not having it as communication is key. He will literally pick you up over his shoulder and put you down so he can talk to you face to face. He’s serious about you, so of course he’s not letting you be this petty.

🐚 ྀ࿓yk how Aang had his hair grown out, yeah you actually liked it grown out like that. It was cute and you told him that in confidence. At first he thought you were lying so you can make fun of it. But when he saw how you kept playing with his hair. He actually was thinking about keep his hair grown out like this. His darkish brown hair was suiting on him. He’d actually fall asleep with his head on you as you play with it.

🐚 ྀ࿓Aang will never forget the moment he almost went avatar state for you. All because you wanted to be reckless and almost died. A fire nation soldier tried to burn you alive, but you were quick to dodge it. While for Aang, he didn’t get a clear view to see if you dodged it or not. So this man’s tattoos glowed scared and worried. Mostly angry if you died as he was about to burn the solider. Kyoshi was telling him to. But that all stopped when you grabbed his shoulder. Aang stops to look at you and hug you tightly, his heart went back to normal sped.

🐚 ྀ࿓to end this off, you guys are practically platonic soulmates who are made to be by each other’s side. Aang agrees and you, you just nod while you stuff your face in food. And Aang eats calmly compared to you. So if you choke on your food, he is smacking the shit out of your back worried if you actually choke on your food.

[artyandink]

whiskey, baby

SUMMARY: Dean’s no longer a demon, and in order to deal with the horrors of all that he’s said and done he retreated into his own shell. Drowning himself in whiskey and his own problems because that’s all there’s left to do. Then there’s you, his demon self’s esteemed fuck buddy, who comes up with a two step plan to feeling good, only for a little while. Step 1? Let you take the reins. Step 2? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

TW: MOC!Dean, angst, demon trauma, post demon!Dean, Reader’s not a stone cold bitch and actually worries about Dean in this but in her own weird way, Dean doesn’t hate her for an odd reason, smut

STW: switch!Dean, riding, oral (m + f receiving), temperature + whiskey play, lipstick play (does it count?), marking, switch!reader, thigh riding (brief), pussydrunk!Dean, fingering, face sitting, ass slapping, thigh slapping, slight overstimulation, ring kink implied, major praise kink, dirty talk, damage of clothes, vocal Dean, threat of exhibitionism

A/N: Yes, this is a sequel to lipstick, baby, and you guys can make the comparison between Dean as a demon during the smutty parts and Dean post demon and more aware. Hope you enjoy!

NOW PLAYING: RIVER - BISHOP BRIGGS

Dean felt kinda empty, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Being a demon didn’t suit him at all, and now that it was over he was left to deal with the reality of it all. The killing, punching people’s lights out, hurting Sammy, hurting in general— he hated it with every fibre of his fucking being.

“Fuck.” Dean growled under his breath, staring at himself in the mirror and finding he just couldn’t damn do it, looking away after barely five seconds because holy hell, he wanted to smash the mirror in just to please the Mark throbbing on the skin of his forearm. “Shut up, why don’t you, you… I don’t even know what you are.” He hissed at the Mark, but it didn’t shut up or stop pulsing.

The bunker door being banged on drew his attention away from his own flaws - thank God, if the bastard even existed - and prompted Dean to walk out of his bathroom, grunting an affirmation that yes, he was coming to whoever was behind the door.

When he wrenched it open with an expression that looked like the human equivalent of a ticked off chihuahua, he saw… you. Oh, fuck, oh, shit, you. The woman that he as a demon had incredible sexual escapades that may or may not have been the star of his dreams for weeks on end after the whole demon thing got cured. Pouring the whiskey on your body, you riding him till you both were spent— it felt almost lucid.

“You.” Dean murmured hoarsely, his throat feeling dry upon the sight of you and your gorgeous, sexy self. Today you were in denim shorts and fishnet tights - of course you were in something that made his senses go wild - with the same red plaid that was buttoned up this time, tucked in and the sleeves rolled to your elbows.

He kind of felt a little out of place. Out of place in his own home— that’s the kind of effect you had.

“Gee, how enthusiastic.” You drawled, leaning against the doorframe, brown paper bag clutched in one hand. “I really thought you’d be more inclined to see me, Dean, I’m partially offended.” You gave him a cheeky smirk, then grasped what was in the bag, showing him the neck of a bottle of Jack.

Oh. That changes things.

Dean’s lip twitched up at the sight, warming up to you like he would when drinking the good stuff. Then again, he knew that deep in that roughed up heart of his, he had a soft spot for you in particular. “That’s my girl.” He took the bottle, examining it with a chuckle as he let you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“So, Dean, how’ve you been?” You asked, following behind him, your boots clicking on the tile of the bunker’s floor. You looked around, pouting in approval at what you saw. Place was damn impressive. But you were also perceptive to Dean. The way he clutched that bottle like a vice, the slight tightness in his gait, the set of his brow. All subtle, but you’d had sex with this man enough times to know when something bothers him.

What? You were perceptive during sex too, you’re not only in it for the physical stuff. You’re not a monster.

However, Dean just shrugged, making a grumble of an ‘eh’, ambling with you towards his bedroom. “As good as a man can be, sweetheart. You?” Bullshit.

“I mean, how’ve you really been?” The question stopped him dead in his tracks, and he swallowed, eyes furtively glancing to you in a way that screamed ‘oh, shit’. But he didn’t say anything, just prompted him to trudge up to his bedroom, you following, rolling your eyes.

Dean Winchester was the sexiest man alive, but… my god, was he irritating sometimes.

“Three fingers, sweetheart?” Dean asked you as you stepped over the threshold to his bedroom, the guns and random trinkets he’d collected adorning the place as usual. His bed was messy, pillow and blanket askew, which he tried to sort out but only ended up messing it up further.

You smirked, winking as you closed the door behind you, kicking off your boots and moving to sit beside him on the bed, cross legged while he was propped on his hand, legs outstretched. “You know I can take it, handsome, don’t be shy.”

Dean couldn’t stop the visual from popping up in his head. Damn demon him for being so attracted to you. Then again, he couldn’t really say anything.

He poured you three fingers of whiskey in a glass and handed it to you with a soft grunt under his breath, his eyes flicking over you for the umpteenth time before pouring his own. “Here y’ go.”

“Cheers.” You smiled, clinking your glass with his before sipping some of it. “I know you better than you think, y’ know that? You’re struggling, even a blind man can see that one.”

Dean just grunted again, shaking his head. “M’ fine, darlin’. Don’t sweat it.”

“Don’t sweat it? Damn, you really are struggling.” You snorted, taking another sip of your whiskey. “C’mere, babe.”

Dean scooted closer, clearly not anticipating how your lips would ghost his jaw before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it, humming and sucking on the skin, making his breath hitch and eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “Darlin’—”

“Shh.” You continued kissing down his stubble, drawing a quiet moan from him, not protesting as you plucked the whiskey from his hands and set it on the bedside table, guiding his hand to your hair.

Fuck. This is what he gets, for not having a woman’s touch in a while.

“Mm, baby.” Dean couldn’t help but groan, especially as your hands pulled off his flannel — wait, when did you unbutton that thing? — and tossed it aside, his back hitting the mattress, eyes hazy and hands flying to your soft thighs as you straddled him.

Not like he was roofied, he just felt so drunk. Not on whiskey, but on you, your lips, your gorgeous body.

Now he saw why his demon self liked you so much.

He exposed his neck to you, which earned a hum of approval from you, your hand cupping the side of it as your thumb brushed his pulse. “Attaboy.” You whispered, one hand smoothing back his hair (the whimper that left him was almost embarrassing). “Lemme take your mind off things.”

You returned the favour from the first time, grabbing the whiskey glass and pouring the contents on his chest, the cold compared with your warm body making Dean shiver.

His belt clattered to the floor.

Jeans went after.

And your tongue was on his chest.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen something filthier in his life, it rivalled the likes of Casa Erotica— your tongue flattening against the divots and ridges of his muscle as you collected the burn of the whiskey on your tongue, moving down and down, kissing his v-line, nuzzling his thighs.

“Don’t you stop, sweetheart.” Dean pleaded, voice strangled, hips bucking as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his cock, which was already needy for you.

Damn, the effect you had on him was ethereal.

You chuckled, licking from his base to his tip while your thumb spread his precome, his hips bucking into your hand with a needy whine. “Not gonna stop, don’t you worry.”

“Gonna taste you,” He panted, his skin glowing already with a thin layer of sweat as his hand twisted in your hair, “when this is done. Mark my words, pretty girl, gonna eat you dumb— son of a bitch.”

“Looking forward to it.” You murmured before you took him into your mouth, working him fast while grinding into the bed.

The sight of him with his head tossed back, eyes rolled and freckled cheeks flushed like that was incredibly hot, ok? Don’t blame a woman.

You pulled off him to suck at his tip, which had him fisting the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in bliss. “So good, handsome. Taste so good.” You murmured, which earned you a sinful whimper.

Praise kink. Noted.

Your signature scarlet lipstick smeared on him — good — and left your mark, sucking and licking until Dean came, spilling into your mouth, but you’re a trooper, so you swallowed the whole thing.

Before you could register, however, you were being yanked up the bed and Dean’s hands were undoing your shorts, shoving them down — ripping your panties — and taking your fishnets to your knees, hauling you onto his face and barely letting you register before his tongue fucked into your soaking pussy, your eyes rolling back like his did, moaning in sync as one hand shot to the headboard and the other his hair.

His hands were so fucking reverent, gliding up your thighs, kneading them, one moving to deliver a light smack and grope to your ass, moaning when you began to grind down onto his tongue because you just couldn’t help it.

And then his hand slid up your back, around to your front, unbuttoning your plaid so his fingers could pay extra attention to your nipples (you would obviously show up to his house braless, y’all out there’d understand) as one long, thick finger thrusted up into your pussy, ring pressing against your g-spot in a way that had his name tearing from your throat.

How was normal Dean better than demon Dean? Or Deanmon. Whatever, either way, he was fucking you right.

“What if Sammy comes back, huh?” Dean growled into your cunt, licking every inch of it while he pushed a second finger into you, then a third, stretching you out and sending vibrations and electricity through your body. “Gonna give him a show, sweetheart? Show him how much you fucking need me?”

He ripped an orgasm from you, drinking it up like he was parched before flipping you over, getting your plaid off and entering you in one clean stroke while his mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking and nibbling.

“Shit, Dean!” You cried out, the first coherent sentence you could make since you rode his face and even that meant don’t you dare stop. And if any other man threatened you with exhibitionism you’d probably slap him and leave.

But this was Dean Winchester, so you’d make a thousand exceptions as long as he fucked your legs out.

He marked your neck, pounding into you like he just couldn’t help it, entwining your hands and pinning them above your head. “F-Fuck, baby girl. So tight— shit. Could fuck this pretty pussy forever.” He rolled over, putting you on top, and you took the cue to ride him, moans in tandem as Dean reached down to rub your clit. “Ride me, baby, c’mon. Give it to me, need it all. Please, need all’a you.”

Well, how could you say no?

“So good,” You panted, which earned a whimpering moan from Dean. “Gonna give it all to you, promise.” You clenching around him and his cock’s ride brushing your g-spot and all of it reaching places you didn’t know you had sent you over the edge, and before you’d realised it, he’d come before you with a strangled grunt of your name, hands moving to your hips to help you through your high despite being in it himself.

Once you’d come down from your high, and he his, you pulled off him, collapsing on the bed next to him, both of you flushed red, panting and so damn satisfied.

“C’mere.” Dean rasped, holding a hand out to you, and you were confused. The hell is he doing? “C’mere, baby.” He looked positively wrecked — you most likely did too — but that didn’t distract you.

“Why?” You tilted your head, pushing sweaty strands out from your face.

“To cuddle, why else?” Wow, he was a secure man, saying it outright like that. “I wanna hold you, sweetheart.”

He didn’t hold you as a demon. Nobody had.

So you scooted up to him, laying your head on his chest and allowing his arm to rest around your waist, other one acting as a pillow underneath his head.

Dean felt upset that demon him hadn’t taken the courtesy to hold this gorgeous woman, but now’s not the time to address that.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” He kissed your hair, “I needed that.”

𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[wingedhallows]

is that blood? ; sirius black

pairing: sirius x reader | 0.7k words plot: calling your boyfriend a whore wasn't the smartest thing to do, considering you're a bloodthristy slytherin. prompt: "is that blood? don't worry it's not mine. That's supposed to reassure me?" authors note: hope u like it :)

navigation

They were staring, of course. You brought a hand to your nose, which sat throbbing and probably bloody in the middle of your face. A sour look now on your face.

Your throbbing collarbone irritated you a tiny bit more. With a quick glance you looked at your hands, bloody and dirty. Though they were in that state for a good fucking reason.

“Black’s a total slut though.”

“I know, I bet he’ll dump that slytherin soon enough.” the other nodded her head. You stared at the two, mouth in a straight line. The anger gradually built in your chest as you listened to the girls some more. You had promised Sirius, no fights. Oh, how hard it was to keep that promise right now.

“I might just go for him mys-” she had no chance to finish her sentence as you had made your way over to the two Ravenclaws. With a quick motion you grabbed the back of her head, blonde curls in your balled fist as you yanked her off the bank.

Her body fell to the floor as the girl next to her shrieked, other students watched with wide eyes. 

“You wanna say that again?” you barked. You were never someone to just watch and listen. You were someone who beat the shit out of people.

“You crazy bitch.” she yelled out as without thinking, your fist connected with her face. 

“Oh, I’ll show you what a crazy bitch i am, you fuckin’ cunt.” your hands grabbed her head and slammed it down with as much strength as you were able to produce. With a grunt she kicked at you, catching you off guard. She was on top of you and quickly punched you in the nose. 

“Not my fault your boyfriend’s a whore.”

You saw red as you brought your elbow to her head and with a yell you brought your knee to her stomach. You got up and kicked her a few more times, there she laid, limb and heaving.

“Call him a whore one more time, I dare you.”

She coughed as you leaned over her, a hand held her face. Cheeks squished between your bloody fingers.

“Keep his name out of your filthy mouth.” you spoke, voice deep. Before you left her you took a breath and spat in her face. 

“Bitch.” you whispered.

You made your way to the Gryffindor table, gasping and whispering audible. 

“Yo, isn’t that your girl? James spoke, a finger pointed at you. 

Sirius’ head whipped to your approaching form, eyes wide. You gave him a small smile as you sat yourself down between the two. Lily and Remus, who sat in front of you, didn’t speak.

“Is that blood?” Sirius spoke, holding your hand in his. You chuckled and took the napkin which laid in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine.”

The liquid from his cup made its way down your throat, easing the scratchy feeling. Sirius took the napkin from your hands and began to wipe the blood on your face.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” he spoke. “What happened?” Moony asked, a hand held out with a piece of chocolate for you to take. With a small smile you accepted. 

“Some Ravenclaws thought it was a good idea to call my boyfriend names.” Sirius sighed and took a closer look at your nose. “Baby, we talked about this.” he paused and scrunched his eyebrows together as he looked at you. 

“There’s no need-”Don’t think for a moment that I won't defend you and I was kind of angry anyway.” you took a bite of the chocolate and raised your hand to stroke his cheek. 

“To defend your honor was just a bonus, pretty boy.”

Sirius just chuckled and gave your bruised nose a tap. “Ow!” you whined as you slapped his shoulder shortly after. 

“Let’s go to Madam Pomfrey’s, that is definitely broken.” 

“You pretty little minx.” He planted a kiss on your cheek as he took your hand in his. “Thank you for defending my honor, love.” you smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. 

“Always.”

Just as you two walked off you could hear James talk to Lily.

“Lily Pad, would you fight-”No, Potter.”

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: The Killer Always Comes Back For One Last Scare [Yandere Haruta Shigemo x Reader]

Title: The Killer Always Comes Back for One Last Scare [Haruta Shigemo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're the last one alive--or so you think.

Horrorfest prompt: When I saw you post wanting to write a Mean Thing for Haruta JJK, my mind immediately jumped to now requesting "reader-chan thinking they killed him and got away, but surprise! His luck technique" in the way slasher films trick you

Word count: 2010

Notes: yandere, reader is female, descriptions of death, gore, groping, sexism, Haruta being Haruta

The blood–oh, the blood. You’ll never get the blood out of your clothes. They’ll have to be burned.

No–they’d be burned no matter what. Because even if the soaked-in red could be removed and laundered and done away with, you would always see it. You would always smell it. You would always feel it, warm at first and now dry and tacky, damp against your skin. 

Most of it wasn’t even yours, after all.

It was theirs–your colleagues–your friends–

Nao, her body sprawled face-down, neck sporting a boot print; blood soaked through the stab wounds through her chest, her back and the highest part of her thigh. The last was close to her backside, and the killer had laughed about it. “I almost got her cute little ass!”

Kei, killed the simplest. Killed first. Stabbed through the gut. “I’d rather play with you girls alone,” the killer said. He wasn’t lying. Because Shika–

Shika, flat on her back, eyes wide in horror. Her face was a canvas of pain, stab wounds on her cheeks, one of them flayed and flapped open, hanging down her jaw. Her hands–what was left of them, they were stubs of missing fingers now, defense wounds–were splayed upwards. In desperation, in prayer. In growing rigor mortis. 

A glance around you only makes you want to tear at your hair, your skin, to collapse on the ground and die alongside them. Hell, with your blood loss, that might still be an option.

Fuck–This was supposed to be a simple mission. An easy one. The plan was to meet for dinner and drinks afterward. Nao would get too drunk on cocktails and Kei would ask her out again and Shika would slap him and you would laugh and laugh and–it’ll never happen now. Not ever again.

You are the only one left alive. And it’s not fair, really. It’s not right.

Your colleagues–your friends, after years of working together–weren’t any stronger than you. They weren’t any weaker, either. You were the reconnaissance team. Trained in basic combat so you might hold your own until actual help arrives, but your techniques were defensive, strategic. 

It was always the next wave of sorcerers who were meant to do the real fighting, while your team got the information, relayed it to just the right people, then got the fuck out of there. And today? Today, you did get the information, and you did relay it to just the right people. 

But just as you were planning to make your swift and necessary exit, everything went to shit. The single curse user that you were meant to be tailing (a weaker man, you’d noted; his sword held his hand for him, of all things) turned out to be two. And the second had a technique that hid him from your sight until just the right moment, unleashing a barrier that kept you contained–an ambush. 

The second curse user didn’t even bother coming inside, and there was a brief sense of relief that rippled through your team. You could deal with one low level curse user. This other man, blonde and thin and wearing a stupid outfit and a stupider grin, could surely be fended off until help arrived.

Or so you thought.

He’d grinned widely before counting the lot of you with his sword in hand–

“One, two, three… four.” 

His gaze lingered on Nao, on Shika. And then on you. Longer than the others? Maybe. It was hard to tell, then and especially now, with the adrenaline. And the blood loss.

Speaking of–

You grunt and rip off a piece of your tattered suit, then another, and another. You’ll have to wrap your wounds yourself, now that you’re–now that you’re alone. Help will arrive soon, and since the curse user is finally dead, and the barrier is gone (perhaps his second simply gave up, when he died?) all you have to do is survive until someone comes to help you.

Which should be any minute now, surely.

They will come before you finish wrapping your wounds, even; there’s a hope you cling to, while you carefully gauge which of your injuries is most at risk for killing you. Probably the stab wound in your side. It went in deep. It hurt–it still hurts–and blood is still seeping out. There’s a strange sort of pain with this wound. Something that almost tingles. Perhaps he hit an organ. Or an artery. Or both. 

The cuts on your arms and legs, no, that’s superficial. Meaningless. You don’t bother with them, instead going for the deeper wound, wrapping it with as many pieces as you can. Blood seeps through, despite the efforts. But that's all you can do. 

A pained sigh, more of a whine, escapes your lips as you lean against the old fountain in the center of the square. On the off chance that the second curse user came back, sitting here was an awful idea. But you were tired. You were dying. And sitting here gave you the best chance at rescue.

It also gave you the best sight of the curses that had seeped their way out of your body, that of your friends as they died. They were nothing much. Bitter, scared things. Whining and whimpering, much like you were doing; much like the rest of them did as they died.

But it would be over soon. You could go home. Call your parents and tell them you love them, consider how to pick up the pieces, and maybe in time you–

“You’re still here! I’m so happy!”

The warmth of slowly bleeding out is cut through with ice that runs up and down your weary limbs, stopping at your chest to make sure your heart begins to race so hard that the pain of it has you leaping to your aching feet.

“You…” The words come out of your lips without energy. It’s impossible. You’re dreaming. No: you’re dead. That must be it. Dead and this is what you hallucinate as your brain fires off all those lovely synapses. 

But it’s not a dream, and you’re dead. Not yet.

The curse user is standing in front of you, looking almost cheerful. His sword is back in his hand–back to holding his hand–and the wound that should have killed him, the ragged slicing of his neck that you managed with a broken pane of glass, is healed up. The only sign of it are dried rivulets of blood covering his neck and chest.

He glances down at it, following your gaze.

“Weird, huh? I’m just really lucky, you know!” When he looks back up, his eyes are wild. But not with anger, as you might expect. No–his eyes shimmer with glee.

There’s only one thing your brain can think to say to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His eyes widen. His lips get thin. He seems to be thinking seriously, perhaps for the first time in his whole damn life. And then, his face begins to shake��a little at first. His lips twitch into a smile. Then he throws back his head and laughs. Loud, giddy. It hurts your ears and you long to cover them up.

“I like to have fun,” he says, taking a step closer. 

Your eyes dart here and there, but where is there to run? You’re exhausted. Bleeding profusely. You wouldn’t make it around the corner.

When your pathetic gaze makes it back to him, he grins wider.

“And I really like weak things. You’re a weak thing, aren’t you?” He licks his lips as his eyes travel up and down your weakened, bleeding body. “All women are.”

There’s a retort somewhere in you; some indignity that might flare up and have you glaring, spitting at him, all defiance and swollen anger. But that retort has been stabbed out of you, chased out of you as your legs twisted and turned within the barrier. 

The retort is blubbering in the blood seeping out from underneath your torn suit bandages. 

“Aw,” he coos. “See? You can’t even speak.” He makes an awful noise, a gleeful little moan. “I want to hear you scream again, though.” His gaze flicks at Nao and Shika. “They made wonderful noises as they died. So pitiful.” His voice cracks at the last word, like a boy in puberty. 

At this, your body does finally try to run away. It has to; you can’t just stand here and die, no matter how tired you are. So your gaze hovers to the left before your bled-out mind decides it’s the best direction to go, carrying your weakened, jelly-like legs a few steps. 

A stupid thing to do, but since when were primal instincts always smart? 

“Oh!” He croons, just in time for your knees to buckle, for your body to hit the pavement hard. 

His footsteps sound too loud against the ground as he approaches you. You’re about to die. He’ll either kill you quick or slow but either way, you’re dead. 

Well, you think. At least I won’t have to live with survivor’s guilt. But mom-dad-sis-friends-neighbors-my-dog–growing-up-on-a-quiet-street-the-time-I-fell-down-at-the-playground-my-first-kiss-and–

All bittersweetness, all those momentary flashes of your life before your dying eyes are replaced with blinding hot pain searing through your ass. His sword–

“Bull’s-eye!” The laughter from behind you is too giddy for the blood-stained scenery. “Ah, should I try your tits next? Women always squeal when I…”

Whatever he says next is lost when the world gets topsy-turvy. The pain in your side and ass and body sears hot as you’re turned around by the curse user. You’re too weak and he’s not exactly strong–if only the second team had gotten here–but he’s strong enough to manhandle you, to hold you up by your wrists and fling you back to the ground so that you land on your back.

He straddles you, pressing his knees into your open wound. You scream–it must be you screaming, everyone else is dead–and he rolls his eyes backward lewdly. 

You hear the sword clatter to the ground and there’s almost relief in you, before you feel his hands roughly groping your breasts. It hurts. Not because he’s particularly rough, though it’s entirely possible; but because your entire body hurts. 

And maybe because, despite the knowledge of your imminent death and the gaping wounds on your body, you can still feel shame. 

“These are so cute,” he murmurs, voice half-laughing. “I wonder if I could cut them clean off.” His eyes glance towards his sword just as you whimper.

A pitiful sound. A small sound. A sound that attracts this vulture-like predator as readily as any mouse in the desert.

He leans forward, cooing softly. “You don’t want that?” 

You shouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter. It’s not going to change anything. But you can’t help it; fear of even more pain wins out.

“Please don’t,” you croak. “Please.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is practically sinful. 

And then–worse than death–you can see an awful thought blossom behind his eyes.

 “You know, I’ve been thinking–” He leans in close, breath hot and stale on your face. Spittle flies onto your cheek. “Since you’re so weak… and since you’re really the prettiest one… I might just keep you alive…”  

His tongue sneaks out like a worm and licks a trail up your cheek, catching tears and blood in one go. Your body jerks all too feebly, a blow to your dignity and primal desire to get the fuck away from him. 

You don’t want to die. But do you want to live, when this is the alternative?

He doesn’t care to find out your answer; instead, he licks another trail down your face, dragging blood–some yours, some not–into your mouth. You sputter, and he bites your bottom lip when you try to jerk your head away.

You whimper again–soft, pitiful, trapped. 

He only grins, and you can hear the sharp slice of the sword dragging against the pavement as it finds its way back into his hands. 

“It’s like you were made for me, right? Poor thing.” 

[oceansprompts]

text message prompts

[text] You okay?

[text] GO TO BED!

[text] hey you better be alive in there

[text] SOS save me please holy shit

[text] call me this date is going so bad

[text] I have way too much shit to do.

[text] Honestly I'm really worried about you.

[text] Why are you trending on Twitter?

[text] Please let me come over and pet your (pet).

[text] We are in the same building, you could come talk to me.

[text] It's not going to work out.

[text] This is a terrible idea.

[text] people have fetishes

[text] They really do crucify anyone these days huh

[text] I don't know why but that really means me want to stab you

[text] That movie was awful.

[text] For the love of god please help me

[text] I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.

[text] I'm blocking you.

[text] YOU ONE BRAINCELLED BITCH

[text] I regret swiping right.

[text] Everyone lies on their dating profiles.

[text] That absolutely can't be an actual picture of you.

[text] This forced open my third eye and I saw the devil

[text] I'm like a child in line for the newest fucked up disney ride

-

[text] That's just all fucking sorts of fucked up

[text] Why are we here? To suffer? Every other day I get messages that cause pain

[text] In the department of old man fucking, we've got you beat.

[text] have you gotten any work done?

[text] I am beyond shame, try again

[text] You left your left your underwear at my place.

[text] Don't you dare put this on Facebook.

[text] My brother in Christ you're being haunted

[text] I want to wring you like a wet towel and slap you against a wall

[text] The mind is weak but the body is funky

[text] I'm a zombie the law can't stop me.

[text] Jealous of my massive honkers

[text] We left you to die to play minecraft

[text] She would never ever take away one of these stupid fucking hats

[text] I puked all over the Uber driver's backseat.

[text] I just took a screenshot of that and posted it to Reddit

[text] You said you'd be right back and it's been months.

[text] Can't we talk about this face to face?

[text] Yeah, you'll come learn I just have a thing for milk

[text] Why did you like one of my pics from 2014?

[text] Now's as good a time as any to exchange nudes.

[text] Why would you send me an eggplant emoji?

[text] I write five paragraphs, pouring my heart out, and all you reply with is k?!

[text] Who would dare to lie on the internet?

[text] When I die, please delete all my shit off the internet

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person

[text] And because I'm god and I've decided that; no, in fact, I'm not done.

-

[text] I know you love bloopy reggae jams, now is not the time.

[text] You better not be standing catatonic in your room again.

[text] God has abandoned his children but unfortunately for you I pay child support and I will smite thee.

[text]: My neighbor just told me he can fix my water heater for 50 bucks. I’m skeptical.

[text]: Do you have any idea how much it costs to buy apples? I paid 10 dollars for 6.

[text]: I mean, I wouldn’t say I have a problem with buying Squishmallows..

[text]: Hey, so you know how you told me no dog? *sends pic* I don’t do well with no’s.

[text] Stuart Little is a bitch and Remy could take him any day.

[text]: My roommate just said that Lola Bunny is hot. I’m moving out.

[text]: Hey I posted that vid of you drunk, singing Ariana Grande, wearing all black and people said not to do it again. Sorry.

[text]: Do you think the price is ever right? Like, I feel like it’s not.

[text]: I booped your nose. Boop the last five people you texted or–nothing happens really.

[text]: I’m actually in the ER and it’s a long story that involves Best Day Ever from spongebob.

[text]: I fucking hate you–wait you’re not my ex. Who are you?

[text]: You ever ask yourself if birds see a bee and just go ‘wow a bee’? im high.

[text]: sometimes all i think about is–sour patch kids. bet you thought it was you.

[text]: I love you—not as much as I love my dog. But still a lot!

[text]: I found a cat on the way home and now it’s mine. But it hates my guts so this should be fun.

[text]: I have questions about the marvel cinematic universe…how long do you have?

[text]: why do donald duck and winnie the pooh not have to wear pants but other people do?

[text]: Hey you know that show floor is lava? I may have turned the apartment into that..this isn’t a joke, btw. the floor is sticky.

[text]: I bought too much soap off etsy and now I don’t know what to do with it…I smell like Captain America.

[text]: On a scale of one to ten, how many drinks would you need to sleep with me? This isn’t a tiktok trend…or it is.

[tourturestarradio]

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

“𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Vampire reader x Wolverine/Logan Howlet, (platonically)

Warnings: teenage reader, kinda mean Logan

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Water dripped down onto your body, the seemingly never ending rain slapped against the ground. You shivered grabbing onto the cold metal bars of a gate looking through the bars you saw a house. A very, very big house.

Looking up you jumped over the fence, going into a bush. You walked closer to the  lit house, going up to a window you spotted someone walking through one of the rooms. Ducking your head you waited a few seconds before lifting your head the darkness of the night hid you as you carefully sliding open the window. 

Getting inside you looked around cautiously, taking a few steps you froze when you felt your stomach rumble placing a hand on your stomach you ran to find something to fill your stomach. 

Hearing chatter you stopped peeking around the corner seeing a man with odd looking glasses, you grew your sharp nails out ready to pounce on him but stopped when you felt the floor creek beneath you. You quickly pressed your back against the wall hearing his footsteps coming close to you, you took off.

The man looked around the corner “hm?” He felt an odd presence, spotting the open window he walked over to it closing it “who left that…open…?” He saw bare footprints and water droplets on the floor he followed them but they stopped right at the carpet that was on the floor. 

“Shit..” 

You felt that annoying feeling your stomach again as you roamed through the seemingly endless hallways, you looked around seeing the pictures up on the wall so many different people and things you never seen before. 

You reached to touch it but had to hurry away due to a door opening a little girl stepped out walking down the hall, you tucked yourself away in the shadows watching her walk past until she stopped slowly turning her head she saw you. 

You hissed at her your fangs sticking out the low glow of the moonlight reflecting in your dilated pupils. The little girl screamed and ran away you scrambled away as well running through the first door you saw. 

Slamming it shut you observed the room it was spacious like the rest of the house. But you smelled something delicious all around you, going over to the freezing box you opened it seeing food. 

Staring at it you grabbed everything that looked good and started eating it grabbing a large drink that looked eerily similar to the drink you’ve been taught not to drink.

 Grabbing it you opened it gulping back the bitter yet sweet drink, going over to the cabinets you pulled out the boxes full of more food and stuffed your hand inside the bag shoving the food into your mouth. 

Jean had her arms folded over her chest “so you think someone snuck inside?” Scott nodded his head, Ororo sighed “it could be a child” Logan rolled his eyes “or a threat.” That’s when they heard a scream. 

The four rushed into action looking for the source of the scream, Storm spotted the little girl “hey hey calm down it’s okay, what’s the matter?” She asked kneeling down to the girls height, the girl rubbed her eyes “m-monster! Big teeth…and e-eyes!” Hugging Storm the little girl sobbed into her shoulder. 

“Guys split up and look for this “monster” before they hurt someone.” Ororo commanded, the others nodded splitting up and rushing to find whoever or whatever was roaming the house. 

Ororo picked up the girl “okay let’s get you back to bed.” 

You reached into the box again not seeing anymore food you tossed the box aside getting up you grabbed another piece of food before plopping back down on the ground munching on the food. 

But no matter how much you are you still felt hungry craving something else but everything taste so good, nothing like you ever tasted. Picking up a round orange ball you examined it before taking a bit but a disgusting taste flooded your mouth. 

Spitting out the bite you just took you tossed away the bitter fruit. Grabbing something else you looked at the bright red fruit cautiously taking a bite you liked the taste. Taking another bite you got up to get another drink when you heard the door open.

Dropping the fruit you turned around your heart pounding as you looked at the man who stood in the doorway looking at the mess surrounding you “what the fuck…” you were frozen in place. 

His eyes drifted to your trembling figure, without warning he rushed towards you, you hissed running to the far end of the room grabbing whatever was closest to you and tossing it at him. 

You grew your nails long again the man looked you before blade shot out of his knuckles, “I got tricks to, you picked the wrong place to break into” he rushed at you slicing your side adding onto the many other cuts and bruises you already had. 

You sliced the man’s face jumping into his back scratching at his flesh he threw himself back onto a wall slamming you into it however you still stayed stuck onto him slicing his throat you stabbed him over and over smelling something sweet oozing out of his wounds.

Licking your fingers the taste was so delicious you continued to stab into him and licking your fingers and hands after. That was nice until he stabbed into your side knocking you off of him “fuck!” Even though his wounds were healing it still hurt like a bitch. 

Jean, Scott, and Ororo heard all the commotion coming from the kitchen and rushed to the area busting into the room they saw the mess you made and Logan looking at something in the corner. 

They all looked at want Logan was glaring and saw a frightened looking teen. Scott ready’ed his laser but Ororo stopped him “wait, that looks like a child” Logan scoffed “that fuckin kid almost ripped my face off” Ororo slowly approached you. 

You back further into the corner hissing at her, still she slowly came closer “it’s okay no one’s going to hurt you” she spoke in a calm tone, your eyes darted from her to Logan “he was just protecting himself” you shook your head.

Ororo looked back at Logan “you didn’t attack them first did you?” He looked away, she huffed and looked back at you “I’m sorry for his behavior, he won’t do it again unless he needs to.” She crouched down to “did you make this mess?” She asked. 

You looked away slowly nodding your head “you were hungry?” You nodded again “okay…what happened here?” She reached for your bruised limbs but you hissed at her about to scratch her but you couldn’t move you were stuck in place. 

Looking around you saw another woman holding her hand out “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you….did someone do this to you?” She asked.

Jean carefully let you go as you nodded “alright…I’m sorry that happened to you. This is a safe space for mutants such as yourself…we’ll help you” Logan shook his head “I ain’t helping shit. You see what they did to the place and me?” Ororo stood up turning to face him “they were frightened and plus you attacked them first.” 

Logan rolled his eyes and walked out grumbling under his breath. Ororo sighed her eyes caught how you visibly relaxed seeing him leave. She reached her hand out “we can help you, but that’s only if you let us” you looked at the pretty woman then at the other two hesitantly you reached out to grab her hand but you felt yourself get light headed before collapsing on the ground everything going black.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: this doesn’t end here stay turned for Part 2!!

[scarletlizzard]

Hooray for 500!! 🎉 You deserve that and more!

5 or 58 for either Nat or Wanda…dealer’s choice! Thank you!!🙏

5 & 58

104 Dialogue Prompts

Paring: natasha x reader (don't think I used pronouns)

Tags: mentions of violence/guns, blink and miss it angst, fluff

A/N: Thank you anon 🥳 You're the best, thanks for the request! I just did both and chose Nat ❤️

~~~~

Okay, so you fucked up. You definitely should've waited for backup.

Your feet stumble over each other on the broken road, gunfire from behind you willing you to move faster. Around you, a marketplace crowded with people, innocent people. In your hand, a powerful agent in a small vial, strong enough to wipe out the entire city.

"On your left," you finally hear on the comms. You let out a sigh of relief as you look back to see a truck coming through.

You see Natasha leaning out the window of the backseat passenger side, arms ready. "Y/N! Take my hand," she calls to you, the truck driving next to you as you run.

You reach out to her, making eye contact with the widow. Usually, you would see a look of annoyance, you were surprised to see her green eyes filled with worry. Brows pushed together as her face wavers with fear.

"Take my hand!" She calls again, and this time you jump up, letting her grab you. Natasha pulls you into the truck as Sam cheers from the drivers seat with a "Hell yeah!" While you sit in the backseat with Natasha, bullets littering the back of the truck.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, laughing along with Sam in relief. Natasha only moves away from you, seemingly shaken up.

***

As the truck pulls up to the safe house, you hand the vial to Sam after the three of you get out. "I'll get this bad boy locked up," he nods and pats your shoulder to which you wince. Natasha frowns at you when he walks away.

"What the fuck was that?" She says, pushing you. Your back hits the door of the truck.

"Easy!" You wince again, groaning at the sharp pain from your shoulder blade.

"No, you could've died!" Natasha yells back in your face. "You could've died..." She says in a softer tone, tears welling in her eyes.

"Nat..." You mumble, reaching out to her. She slaps your hand away. Pushing you again. And again. She hits your chest, letting the tears fall down her cheeks.

"You don't get to just, make someone care about you, and then-then do stupid shit like that!" She cries, and you stand there shocked. You had never seen the widow this upset, let alone in an incident involving you.

"I didn't think you cared that much... you don't act like it," you say, reaching your hand across your body to hold your shoulder. Natasha sighs, looking to your face, studying your soft eyes and bruised cheek.

"Because of this exact reason. I try to stay away, and I try not to care. But you're so fucking..." She's at a loss for words, and instead of trying to find the right ones, she grabs your face in her hands and kisses you.

Her lips are soft and wet, salty from her tears. You wrap your arms around her middle and pull her closer, deepening the kiss. The kiss you had wanted since the first day you laid eyes on her. She pulls apart only a little, her forehead resting on yours as her lips hover over your lips.

"Don't do something so stupid again," Natasha sighs, and you nod in response. You press your lips to hers again, mumbling out an apology.

"You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?" She says.

"Yep," you groan and smile as she laughs and wipes her face. Her hand rests on your cheek for just a second longer before she takes your hand.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"Wait, does this mean I can kiss you again or... was that like a one-time thing or..." You trail off, raising your eyebrow.

"You're insufferable... Yes, you can kiss me again," Natasha says in a serious tone, but the smile on lips tells you all you need to know.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor Scenario Dump

One of my friends requested I make more of these, so I guess I'm doing a series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like before these are just a bunch of story ideas I've had pop into my head that I have no plans to use. Feel free to use them, just link back/credit me and slap me with a tag because I wanna see what you write!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Contents/WARNINGS: ANGST; stalking; abuse of Alastor's shadows; heavily implied voyeurism and other creepy shit; (most of these warnings are for the last prompt so if your bothered by any of this, just skip that one) Actual brainrot below the cut; Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ringing Hollow ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basic idea is that Alastor ends up caving to Charlie/the hotel and getting a cellphone. Everyone insists he needs it in case there is an "emergency", especially after the whole Exterminator attack on the hotel.

So he relents. As much as Alastor hates to admit it; they are right. But he isnt going to get any of that smartphone crap. Alastor opts to get himself an actual flipphone. (Angel Dust questions how Alastor even managed to find the piece of junk) Its only for emergencies. He should barely be using it, if at all.

But things change one day when Alastor gets several messages from an unknown number thinking he is their close friend. Alastor does end up telling them that they have the wrong number, but you know, being Alastor, he has to tease them relentlessly first.

They actually end up talking for a bit. Both of them find the situation incredibly entertaining and surprisingly like each other's sense of humor. The reader ends up asking who they actually texted. Alastor panics a bit. He doesn't want to just tell some stranger that they just messaged the radio demon of all people.

No matter the case, Alastor doesn't want to give his real name. So he wracks his brain for something that wont give him away. He cant just use Al, that's too obvious. Wait... Alastor-Al-A...A... A-nonymous? Anon? Yeah. Anon could work.

(This is Alastor's own line of thinking of how he 'came up' with the name. The boomer has no idea this is actually a common internet pseudonym because I doubt he has ever touched a computer)

Anyway, Alastor ends up telling the reader to call him Anon. The two of them end up talking alot. The rest of the hotel finds it rather comical to see the radio demon on his phone texting someone with a grin on his face.

Alastor actually gets pretty fast at texting with his stupid flipphone. Eventually, under Angel's suggestion, Alastor does end up "upgrading" to one of those phones with the slide out keyboard. He still draws the line at smartphone.

But everyone finds the whole thing rather adorable. Charlie always giggles to Vaggie about how soft his eyes get whenever he sees a new text from the reader. Rosie teases him nonstop about his 'paramour' and ends up suggesting that Alastor try to meet them in person.

At the first thought of it, Alastor's stomach drops. He still hasn't actually told them who he is. But the more he thinks about it, the more Alastor thinks a meeting between them is inevitable. He has never felt this way about anyone before; and he needs to deal with it one way or another.

So Alastor arranges an in person meetup. However, he STILL doesn't actually tell the reader who he is. He plans it as a surprise. The purpose of this is twofold; Alastor thinks this will be a wonderful surprise (he is the fantastic radio demon after all!), and it will serve as a test to see if the reader actually likes him.

The secret third reason is that Alastor is actually scared of what the reader's reaction will be and is avoiding it until the ninth hour when he literally cannot anymore. But he would rather die then admit that.

The reader asks Alastor what he looks like and other, you know, obvious things they should know for when they meet. But Al dodges the questions and tells them that they will know everything and learn who he truly is when they finally meet.

Well the time comes. The reader shows up to the designated meeting place, a semi public location. Then they see him. The Radio Demon.

The reader's eyes meet his and they freeze in terror as he approaches them with a knowing, determined stride. They are mortified when Alastor kisses them on the back of the hand; calling them darling and confessing that he was the one who they had been talking to all along. 

The reader backs off, stuttering an apology and a half hearted excuse to leave before quickly running off. Alastor’s smile never wavers. But it can be seen in his eyes and the way his ears have flattened against his head that he had hoped for a better reaction.

Alastor makes his leave before he can embarrass himself further. When he goes to text an apology, his number has already been blocked. He swears he feels a foreign pain in his chest in that moment.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Mockingbird ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor begins fall in love with the reader. Driven by his strange feelings, he starts to compose little songs that he hums/sings to himself. The songs are inspired by the things he likes about them, things that make him think of the reader, and ways he sees their presence improving the hotel. 

There is even a special one dedicated specifically to their laughter. A tune that he made to resemble how melodic he finds it. 

Charlie and Vaggie start to notice Alastor singing to himself all the time. How his eyes soften and his smile turns wistful as he sings. Its how they realize that, holy shit, the guy has fallen in love.

They think that the songs are how Alastor is choosing to ‘deal’ with his feelings and that he is using them as an outlet. Not realizing he is composing them himself.

So other then like the weird love singing to himself there really aren't signs of Alastor having a crush, especially not one on you. So it kinda becomes like this big mystery that Charlie is determined to solve. Charlie holds a 'top secret meeting' and drags the rest of the hotel into it. Who has Alastor fallen for?? She will find out dangit.

I also have the image of at least one of the songs being composed entirely in French. So like Alastor finds the reader asleep at some point, maybe they fell asleep on him or they fell asleep somewhere out of exhaustion, but either way, Alastor ends up singing the song he composed for them while they sleep.

Alastor gently picks you up and cradles you to his chest. Singing all the while. He takes you to your room and tucks you in, singing the song as if it were a lullaby. The reader half wakes up at some point and hears him, but cant understand the words.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Chasing Shadows ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basically a really sweet girl checks into the hotel. Maybe she just has that southern belle vibe or reminds Alastor of his mama or whatever; but the point is he has an immediate soft spot for her. 

Anyway Alastor quickly picks up how guarded and almost paranoid she is. Her eyes always seem to be darting around or looking into the distance for something. Although she is quick to help others, she dashes anyone elses attempts to help her. Alastor finds it very odd.

Then Alastor’s shadows start reporting of ‘incidents’ happening around the hotel, mostly around the new guest. Her things going missing, gifts and letters being left outside her door if not outright in her room, and the one that pissed Alastor off the most was one of the shadows saying they even found a small camera had been placed in her room.

Alastor isnt stupid; he knows someone is stalking the poor girl. And he is seething. Part of it is anger and outrage at someone daring and succeeding at breaching his territory of the hotel, and the other half of his anger is at such a disgusting creature thinking that they are entitled to treat a woman this way. 

Alastor quickly puts more shadows around the new guest's room, having every entrance and exit watched for the intruder. Yet the stalker manages to slip by him again, leaving a bouquet of flowers as well as stealing a pair of undergarments. 

Alastor nearly kills the poor shadow that informs him of this. How could they let someone slip past them again??

You got the gist of how this story goes. Ive had this sitting in my ideas folder forever cause I love it alot but, realistically speaking, Im not going to write it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So either someone else can use it or you can just brainrot about it with me.

The big twist is the demon that is stalking the new guest has the power to turn into/manipulate cockroaches. That's how they are able to traverse the hotel so easily and undetected. 

Wasn't sure if I wanted to go all in on that and make him an actual roach boy or not. You could also make the demon a Jewel Wasp which is a bug known specifically for mind controlling cockroaches.

Since the stalker is cockroach themed, I also had the idea floating around that Niffty would be the one to finally catch them in the end.

I was picturing the relationship between the new guest and Alastor to be strictly platonic; with like big brother/dad protection vibes. Basically Alastor just wants to protect someone who he sees as a ‘lady’ from a disgusting man. Its his southern trauma kicking in hard

[kengan-daddies]

I saw someone else write something similar but I'd love to hear your take on this prompt; "awkward things kengan characters do that ruin the mood during sex" You can pick any characters you want but please include Wakatsuki if you can.

LOL!!! This is gonna be fun.

How He Kills the Mood Cosmo Imai Jun Sekibiyashi Kanoh Agito Kaolan Wongsawat Kiryu Setsuna Ohma Tokita Raian Kure Rei Mikazuchi Saw Paing Seishu Akoya Sen Hatsumi Wakatsuki Takeshi

Anime : Kengan Ashura

Characters : Cosmo Imai Jun Sekibiyashi Kanoh Agito Kaolan Wongsawat Kiryu Setsuna Ohma Tokita Raian Kure Rei Mikazuchi Saw Paing Seishu Akoya Sen Hatsumi Wakatsuki Takeshi

Warning : Mention of - slapping, spitting, spanking, choking, biting, degradation, hair pulling, scratching, oral, breeding, gentle sex, bruising

How He Kills the Mood Cosmo Imai Jun Sekibiyashi Kanoh Agito Kaolan Wongsawat Kiryu Setsuna Ohma Tokita Raian Kure Rei Mikazuchi Saw Paing Seishu Akoya Sen Hatsumi Wakatsuki Takeshi

How He Kills the Mood Cosmo Imai Jun Sekibiyashi Kanoh Agito Kaolan Wongsawat Kiryu Setsuna Ohma Tokita Raian Kure Rei Mikazuchi Saw Paing Seishu Akoya Sen Hatsumi Wakatsuki Takeshi

Cosmo Imai

Playing too much and then getting distracted until he pretty much loses his hard-on.

He'll be too busy playing around, fake punches to your pussy, playing with your breasts like it's jello, squishing your thighs, and acting like his hands are little people as they bounce up and down. You'll keep on trying to get his attention, you'll stroke his cock, get him back focused, play with your clit, and help him guide his fingers into your pussy, but no matter how much you try, some days are more difficult than others to keep his attention and then before you know it, he's lost his hard-on and he's busy exploring your body, playing and goofing off.

He doesn't always do that, some days he's very focused especially when he's pent up or just having a major adrenaline rush.

Jun Sekibayashi

Calling out wrestling moves while he plows you.

Jun is an older man and he's more practiced in the act, he knows how to please you and how to get focus on the matter at hand, but he'll sometimes mess with you, shouting out weird ass wrestling moves that either actually exist or just some random bullshit that he made up at the moment, you'll bust out laughing at the random shouts as he'll pretend to drop an elbow on your back, or when he slaps your ass.

He'll yell out some weird shit when he getting ready to thrust in, making you roll your eyes in annoyed fondness. It was weird and it didn't always ruin the mood, but most of the time it did. It wasn't a normal occurrence, he was usually more in the mood but sometimes he liked to dick around.

Kanoh Agito

Asking weird-ass question

Agito is a sweetheart, he really is, he enjoys the act as a whole, but he also doesn't understand some things and he'll ask you questions like you knew the damn answer to them. "Why does the clitoris, when stimulated, make you cum?"... "Why does your vagina clench when you're feeling pleasured?".... "Why are the nipples stimulus for pleasure?"... "Do all women have this thing call, 'A G-spot'?". You'd roll your eyes, head propped up on your hand as you lay on your stomach, legs gap as you feel him picking around back there.

"Why does my cock pulse?"... "Why is semen white?"... "I understand sex, but I don't understand why certain things work the way they do." ... It was an eye-rolling experience, you wished that he'd ask these questions when ya'll weren't in the middle of the damn act. Kanoh wasn't unknowledgeable when it came to sex, he knew the basics of it all, but he just couldn't comprehend certain things was all.

He didn't always flood you with questions, sometimes he'd get down and dirty with the deed and will be focused on you and himself, but he gets his days when he does.

Kaolan Wongsawat

Having Saw Paing bust in

Kaolan had no issues in the bedroom, he was perfect, ready for the task at hand, prepared to pleasure you and himself, but the only issue is his added package, Saw Paing Yoroizuka. Honestly, if you knew that a monthly check-in was regular for him, you would've made the most of it every time you had sex. And what makes it worst, and that it's random monthly check-ins. He never does it on the same day, it's always random as hell and totally unexpected, but it's extremely rare when it's during sex, but that was the only mood killer surrounding Kaolan.

Having Saw bust in, asking for a fight at the top of his damn lungs will always scare the mood out of you, you'd be too paranoid that he'd come back in again, so Kaolan will be forced to have blue balls.

Kiryu Setsuna

Shouting Ohma's fucking name like he's actually here, like what the fuck?

He'd always have you in doggy style, face down and silent, not wanting you to ruin the illusion that he was under as he'd call Ohma's name over and over again or he'd have you plow him from behind with a strap-on if you're a woman and with your own dick if you were a male. But he'd always be shouting and screaming Ohma's name like the man was actually here.

It was already a mood killer the moment he comes in with his big ass Ohma plushy, like where the fuck did he even get that shit from, the man's origin is unknown and he's already got a damn plush? It makes it worst when he has the toy facing him, wether you're in doggy style or you're behind him.

Ohma Tokita

Honestly, just him taking it as a challenge to see who can either cum the fastest or who can last the longest.

He didn't always do it, he was usually pretty chill, hitting it from the back real good, having you gushing pussy juice and slobbering everywhere while you be dick-drunk off him, but somedays he'd just transform on your ass.

He'll just suddenly go picking up speed, muttering to himself, talking about some crazy shit with his imaginary dead-ass father figure, and honestly the moment you hear that muttering, you already knew what time it was, he was gonna be on that bullshit. You'd roll your eyes, preparing yourself to either enjoy it or just have a quicky. He'd either start giving deeper, longer, harder thrusts or he'd give shorter faster ones. You preferred the deeper, longer, harder ones because you were guaranteed to cum, but the quick ones were just as good... only when you were already close.

Raian Kure

Just being a damn brute of an asshole

You're already prepared for a rough time because that's just who he was and you honestly loved it, but sometimes, he just does too much. The name-calling is cool. Degradation. The hair pulling, scratching, slapping, and choking are also accepted. Masochist. Spitting, biting, and licking was also welcomed. Claiming. Pumping you full of cum was always a guaranteed result so that was already a given. Breeding. That was all a package deal.

But sometimes, he'd get a little too rough. The name-calling would get ridiculous. "Fish-smelling bitch, hairline damn near close to the back of your neck, saggy titty bitch, neck wrinkle game strong today." The 'abuse' would be too rough. Slapping you so hard you feel like your asscheek busted, pulling your hair so hard you hear it rip, the scratching a little too deep for your liking, and the choking almost fucking murderous. The spitting was just downright disrespectful, the biting so deep you think he has watched some damn Baki and was trying to pull a Pickle, and the licking was okay honestly.

Honestly, if he already fucks up with the name-calling, then he is already done for the day because you knew for damn sure that your hairline is not that damn bad, and your neck isn't wrinkly and your titties ain't that saggy.

Rei Mikazuchi

Just being too much of a bitch to handle pussy.

He could usually do pretty good, he was pretty normal, aside from the part that somedays he was more needy and whiny than others, and the moment he enters you and god forbid the moment he sees your pussy he cums on the spot, it was rare but it wasn't nearly exotic enough to where it was uncommon.

Most days he's okay, but he's had too many moments when he's been like that. On days like those you'd just give him a lap dance and call it a day because he'll cum in his pants and then he'll go to sleep.

Saw Paing

Literally screaming your ear drums out or just thrusting too damn hard till it hurts.

Saw was usually pretty tamed during sex surprisingly, he'd usually be more relaxed and quiet, but sometimes he'd get a little too excited. Screaming so loud your ears ring or just thrusting so hard till it just hurts too much.

You'd have to try and calm him down, and most times it worked but somedays he'd just be too railed up, you'd have to push him off and either finish him off orally or tell him to beat his damn meat because you only got one pussy bitch.

Seishu Akoya

Literally just too rough at times

Akoya could be chill when having sex, he can be relaxed and sensual. he knows how to please you, he knows how to give you pleasure, but somedays, he can just be too rough. His grip on your waist is so tight till it feels like his damn fingers are gonna bust the skin, he'd press down on your back so hard you think he gonna literally break it, his chokes are a little too extreme you think your neck is gonna snap from his grip.

Honestly, he was a ride-or-die type of motherfucker, you can never tell when he's gonna be too rough or just right, but one thing will always be sure, he had some good dick game.

Sen Hatsumi

Literally just too damn lazy or not serious enough.

Usually, he knew what to do, if you wanted to get pleasured in ways unimaginable, than Sen was your man, but he was just too damn lazy. However, he wasn't always that lazy, he had the work and the skills, he knew what he was doing, and sometimes he'd do all the work, but most times, you'd have to do it yourself. You have to rub your own clit, finger yourself, get yourself ready, ride him, even pull your own damn hair, it was a shame really. Or he just wasn't serious enough to actually focus on the task at hand.

He'd be too busy focusing on something, his dick barely getting hard enough to actually do anything with it, at least his eating game was always strong.

Wakatsuki Takeshi

Too scared to do anything

Sex was extremely rare with him, and understandably so, but whenever you do have sex, it is always so slow. It was never quick, rough, exciting.. nothing. You loved the man, he was sweet,, but he was just too slow. His fingering was heaven-sent, his fingers so damn thick, but it was slow, his foreplay was yawn-worthy, even a damn sloth would've been climbed down a tree and back up again. It was a strange yet pleasurable thing.

His foreplay was so gentle that sometimes you'd actually go to sleep, you'd feel bad when you'd wake up in an hour or two, but he'd sometimes be sleep too or he'd be off training somewhere. Most days you'd have to take the lead, but he wouldn't touch you on those days, leaving you wanting more, at least the dick was good.

[literallylexa]

Dean x Reader: SMUT

“Stopping the Hunt”

Prompt: Dean shows up every time you finally “get over him.” Sam goes to hell and Dean comes to you for refuge. However, you already have a boyfriend. Dean gets jealous and you get angry.

Warning: angst, smut, depression, Dean being jealous

Dean’s arms just do something to me

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

The hunting life never has been your thing. Ever since you were one of the victims of a vampire attack, you’ve kept an eye out for the supernatural. That’s how you met Dean Winchester. He was everything you wanted in a man. Protective, strong, caring, he’d do anything for you or his brother Sam. However, you knew that you could never have a relationship with Dean, just due to how his life is. He’s always on the road and put into dangerous situations. He’s nothing but a phone call and a fuck buddy every now and then. You always wanted more though. He was irresistible. Little did you know, Dean felt the same way.

You’ve moved on from Dean Winchester though, you think to yourself. Sometimes..well all the time you think about him. Sometimes romantically, sometimes not. After you started dating your current boyfriend, Edward, you decided it was time to move on from Dean. You’d never be able to have a relationship with that man. Never more than just an occasional booty call.

Tonight is date night. You shouldn’t be thinking about Dean Winchester anyways. You’re going out to have fun!

-I’ll be there in 10

Edward- Okay, I’m at the bar meet me there. Usual spot

You sigh and look into the mirror while fixing your hair. Today you decided to have it down, natural. You glance over your body, making sure the little black dress doesn’t have any stains on it. You decided to wear makeup tonight, wispy lashes, eyeliner, and some faint red glossy lipstick. You pucker your lips together, checking for any cracks and then reapplying some more. You rub your lips together making sure they’re covered. You take one more look at yourself before you grab your heels and purse.

The nightlife was always fun. You always like to try a new drink everytime you go, you’re very adventurous. On the day to day life your more to yourself, but once the alcohol comes out you’re very extroverted. Making new friends, meeting new people, dancing and singing the night away. Sometimes a drink fixes your worries, washing them away as the night goes on. Washes away Dean, all the supernatural shit you’ve seen, all their deaths. If you could take it all back, you would. You never wanted to be a hunter, you never wanted to know about the supernatural. You’ve never wanted to meet Dean.

As the night goes on the more progressively drunk you get. Heels come off, and no fucks are given. You grind against Edward in the bar, dancing along with some friends who stopped by. Edward grabs your hips, swaying them side to side against his cock. Maybe other things were taken that night other then alcohol, but it sure as hell felt amazing.

The night always ends in your bed, skin slapping and moans fill the air. Sheets on the mattress had lifted up and pillows fallen off the bed.

The morning always ends the same too. Alone.

You look over next to you in bed and Edward has already left. He never stays around anyways. Life sometimes gets lonely. Your parents aren’t around anymore, few friends live in the same state as you. Before Edward you were hanging out with random girls at the club and bringing home one night stands. Going to work, eating, drinking, fucking, then sleeping. Sometimes you’d occasionally look at a case online, send it to some hunters and go on about your business. People like you..who know what’s out there aren’t meant for happy endings.

You finally get out of bed. Sliding into some ugg slippers and long tee shirt with nothing underneath. You head over to the kitchen and begin to brew some coffee when a knock at your door gets your attention. Heart pounding you head over to the door. You look out your peep hole and gasp. Before you open the door you go to your pantry and grab some holy water along with a silver knife. With shaky hands you unlock the door and open it. Immediately you throw the holy water and cut the person.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yells out, “I’m not a damn demon. Or a shapeshifter. It’s me!”

“Dean what the fuck are you doing here?” You demand. Last time your encounter didn’t go well with him. You were stupid enough to tell him how you felt and he left the next morning. Typical.

“It’s a lot but I promise to explain if you let me in.” Dean says, hope glistening in his eyes.

You could never resist him. As much as you wanted to you couldn’t. “Fine. I’m making coffee. Sit your ass down and tell me what the fuck happened.”

Dean smiles and sits down at the dining room table. “Same as I remembered it. A little updated though. Looks good.” Dean looks around your house.

“Where’s Sam?” You ask Dean, setting down a cup of coffee in front of him. Dean immediately takes a sip, groaning as he swallows, “So good (Y/N).” Dean groans, “I’ve been all over the country but they never make coffee like yours.”

You laugh to yourself. It’s nice for someone to appreciate you once in a while. Even if it’s Dean doing the appreciating. “I let you in so now you have to tell me what’s going on. What did you and Sam get yourselfs into now?”

Dean takes another sip and sets the mug down, his demeanor changing. He begins to tell you the story about letting Lucifer about the cage, Lilith, Sam being Lucifer’s vessel. “Sam is in hell, (Y/N)..with the devil himself.”

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh my god-goodness Dean.” You correct yourself. Maybe God shouldn’t be mentioned in this senerio. “Whats the plan to get him back?”

“There’s no plan.” Dean says looking down.

“Where do you plan on staying?”

“I have Baby.”

“Dean…” You say, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. “Why don’t you just stay with me for a little. I have a comfortable couch, Baby has a parking spot.” You smile down at him. You could have sworn that his emerald eyes were tearing up. Before you could look at him better, Dean turns his head away, wiping his face. “So what’s going on with you?” Dean asks. You weren’t going to admit you already had a boyfriend just yet. “Oh just the same old shit.” You chuckle, looking around nervously.

“Don’t tell me you’ve met someone?” Dean says, “I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“Ok yeah I met somebody. But it’s no big deal.” You say.

Dean seemed almost irritated when you admitting to it. “I shouldn’t stay.”

“Dean, no I insist.” You plead. As much as your and Dean’s relationship is strained, you never want to see him hurt. “How about we get some breakfast?” You ask, trying to change the conversation. Dean thinks for a moment but ultimately said yes.

•••

After breakfast with Dean, everything was back to what it was. Laughing, flirting a little bit, telling stories. Sam wasn’t mentioned during that conversation though. You know Dean will bring it up when he wants to.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” You tell Dean. “And let’s have you take a shower huh?” You squeeze your nose in between your fingers and Dean pushes ur arm jokingly. Dean brings his belongings out of the impala, just two duffle bags and some guns.

“We can buy you a little dresser so you can put all your shit in. Sorry I don’t have another room for you.” You say to Dean as he begins to walk up the stairs.

“No (Y/N), you’ve already done a lot. No need to worry about that…well maybe I could use some soap. I don’t want to smell like flowers and rainbows.” Dean laughs.

“It’s mixed berry, asshole!” You yell at him going up the stairs.

Moments later you hear the water turn on. You smile to yourself. Dean Winchester living in your house. You began to imagine yourself with him, but those thoughts are quickly wiped away when your phone buzzes. Edward. Right. You’re dating Edward, you have been dating Edward for the last couple months. Edward is normal. Edward has a future for himself. A stable job, family, friends, a home. Edward is good for you. You sigh out loud, frustrated with yourself thinking about Dean. Dean will eventually leave anyways. Unless he’s done hunting. But he won’t ever stop hunting. Your mind races back and forth. You decide to answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby. The bar is having some event tonight, rock and roll music and shit. Want to come? Just meet me there.” Edward says.

“Oh sure. I’ll be there tonight.” You say and end the phone call. Fuck. Maybe you can just leave Dean here and go out.

You decide to clean up to distract yourself from thinking about the two men. You hear the stairs creek as Dean comes downstairs. You turn around and look at him. The sight of him made you breathless. Combed, wet hair dripping onto his tight grey shirt. He’s not wearing a flannel, so his large muscular arms are showing, veins going down them to his hands. His jeans fitting him perfectly, you could see every inch of him. Your eyes wander to his groin area, slightly seeing a bulge through the jeans. For once you don’t see him wearing shoes but only white socks.

“I definitely used up all your hot water.” Dean laughs, running a towel through his hair to dry it.

“What a gentleman.” You say to him. Guess you’ll have to wait to take a shower too.

“If you would have joined me you could have had some hot water too.” Dean winks at you.

“Uh huh in your dreams.” (Or maybe yours) “Soo..” You begin to say, “Tonight at the bar they have a rock and roll night. Want to join? Get some drinks, meet some girls?” You say.

Dean thinks for a moment before saying yes. “Is your little boyfriend going to be there?”

“Yeah he is, but he won’t be a bother. He usually talks to his friends anyways.” You say.

The rest of the afternoon is going great. You do some errands with Dean and Baby of course. It was nice not to drive all the time. It felt nice having Dean drive you around, taking you wherever you wanted. You get some burgers for a quick lunch and head back home. Dean turns on the TV while you put away the groceries and clean up around the house. Dean walks over to the porch and looks at to your backyard. “You need to cut the grass. Do you have a lawnmower?” Dean asks.

“I usually just pay somebody to do it. Clearly it’s been neglected.” You say, standing out on the porch with him. Your yard was fenced in, perfect for a dog.

“Guess I’ll just have to do it tomorrow.” Dean says.

A warm feeling goes through your body as Dean says that. You could imagine him cutting the grass, getting all sweaty and you throw him a beer. When he comes inside you make him some food and make love in the shower after-

“If you do that I’m going to pay you.” You say to Dean quickly.

“You’re already letting me live here. That’s the least I can do for you (Y/N).” Dean looks down at you. The sun shines on his skin perfectly, making it golden. His green eyes have little bits of yellow and blue in the suns rays. You notice Dean looking at your lips, traveling down to your collarbone, and down to your breasts. You get embarrassed from him looking. He’s already seen you naked before, many times. Dean licks his lips as he looks back up into your eyes.

“I’m going to get dressed.” You leave him there on the porch. You run back up to your room and shut the room quickly. Your heart races. You cannot get involved with Dean again, at least romantically. He will leave. He always does. Tears begin to form in your eyes but you wipe them away quickly. Maybe you did love Dean, but you could never admit that- not even to yourself. If you did you’d just get hurt.

You put on some makeup once again. Wispy lashes, eye liner, lip gloss, highlighter and blush. You put on a small dress again, with some heels. As you begin to walk down the stairs you get nervous about Dean seeing you. “Are you ready to go Dean?” You yell out as you walk down the stairs.

“Yeah I’m-“ Dean stops in his tracks, mouth wide. You could have sworn to see his bulge grow through his pants. “Goddamn (Y/N).” Dean practically drools. He eye fucks you with his green eyes, not missing a single inch of your body. Your hair to your plump glossy lips, breasts pushed up from your dress, your legs and thick thighs exposed, he was even infatuated with your beautiful feet in those sexy, scandalous heels. Dean gulps multiple times, hands beginning to sweat, increasingly getting aroused by your figure. Dean grabs your purse for you along with his leather jacket. You guys get into the impala and head to the bar.

It was already packed by the time you two got there. Music loud, tables filled. You lead Dean over to your usual spot at the bar and order drinks for the two of you. “(Y/N)!” Edward comes over, obviously already drunk. He slings his arm around your shoulder and slyly squeezes your left boob. You jump in your seat, startled by the sudden grope. Out of the corner of your eye you see Dean’s nostrils flare, lips puckered in annoyance.

“Edward uhm, this is Dean Winchester. He’s my friend from a while back.” You say.

Edward makes an effort to be touching you. He sets his drink onto the bar counter, standing behind you while you sit in the chair. One hand on your shoulder, and one on your thigh, almost completely underneath your already short tight dress. “So you’re the one (Y/N) used to talk about huh.” Edward chuckles.

You mentally face palm. Fuck you forgot you told Edward about how Dean left you once. Dean clenches his jaw, passes a side eye to you. He takes a sip of his drink and sets it back down. “And I haven’t heard anything about you.” Dean pulls an angry grin.

“Ahh alright how about we have some shots!” You yell to the two of them. “3 shots please!” You call out to the bar tender.

“We’re about to start another game of pool. Dean, you wanna join?” Edward asks.

“I’d be happy to.” Dean takes the shot like water. Edward also takes it, slightly grimacing at the taste. You shake your head and take your own shot, immediately ordering another one after.

Edward takes you by the waist and walks you over to the pool table, Dean following behind. Some of Edward’s friends join in, along with some strangers to watch. Rock and Roll plays, Eye of the Tiger starts up, getting the bar riled up. Edward starts first, getting a ball into the hole. He grabs you by the hips afterward, standing behind you he presses his clothed cock against your ass. You intently watch Dean durning his turn. His muscles flex when he moves, shirt fitting him tightly, riding up his back as he leans over the pool table. You knew Edward was no match for Dean playing pool. Dean hit three balls in durning his turn. He turns around, smirking at you and glares at Edward. Edward goes next. Dean stands close to you durning your boyfriends turn. You could smell his cologne, god he always smells so good. The side of your hip brushed against him a couple times as you move around a bit, each time you touched slightly you felt shivers down your entire body. Maybe it was the alcohol hitting.

As they play, the more increasingly angry Edward gets. As they play, the more cocky Dean gets. Edward begins to not notice you anymore. Durning one of Edward’s turns, Dean wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. “You’re beating his ass.” You whisper over to Dean, standing on your tippy toes to reach his ear. He chuckles, looking down at you and smiling. “We need to play again sometime.” You laugh and bump him with your hip, causing his hand to fall and wrap around your waist instead. You felt dizzy from Dean’s touch. “I guess you just want me to beat your ass again.” You jokingly tell Dean. Everytime you play, you would always beat him and Sam. They would always say that you’re cheating. Dean slightly squeezes your love handle as he begins to pull away, “How about you grab us some more drinks, huh sweetheart?”

Shivers get sent down to your pussy. His husky voice never fails to make you wet and horny. When you get to the bar, you take two shots of your own, and bring a tray to the pool table. Dean and Edward finish the tray themselves, trying to out do each other.

Everything is blurry at this point. Dean, Edward, and you were clearly wasted. The pool game finishes, and of course, Dean wins. Everyone cheers out for Dean, including you. Without thinking, you jump into his arms and hug him. Dean holds you up by your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. “Shots for everyone!!” Dean yells. Everyone heads over to the bar. Besides you. When you get off Dean you begin to walk with him and the crowd, however Edward holds you back into the crowd. He grips your wrists tight, causing it to hurt. “What the fuck was that (Y/N)!?” He yells at you.

“Get the fuck off me! You’re drunk!” You yell at him, trying to swat his hands away. His grip only tightens and he begins to pull you to the bathrooms. “Get off me!” You yell at Edward, trying to pull away. He slams you against the wall, head facing it. “Why the fuck are you hanging out with Dean Winchester?” He spits, grabbing your hair into a ponytail. Panic spreads through your body. Fight or flight. Well, you ain’t no bitch, you’re a fighter. You slam your head backwards, head bumping Edward. He falls to the floor dizzy. For a minute you could have sworn his eyes turn black. Doesn’t matter if it was your eyes playing tricks on you, you were out of the bathroom in a second. Hurriedly, you squeeze through the crowd in the bar, trying to find Dean. “Dean!” You yell out. You can’t find him. You exit the bar and begin to call Dean. No answer. Fuck fuck fuck. You take a breath to calm yourself. Putting your hair up into a ponytail, you begin to head back into the bar. Before you even step foot, the door opens, revealing Dean.

“(Y/N)! Where were you? Are you okay?” Dean asks worriedly. He grabs your shoulders and look down at you, scanning your face. He looks down at your wrists and they are red. “That motherfucker.” Dean grits his teeth. He gives you the keys to Baby. “Sit down. I’ll be back okay?”

“I feel like I saw black eyes.” You say.

“I’ll go in there with that expectation.” Dean says, looking at you. He stops for a second before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’ll be back okay?” He repeats. You nod your head and begin to walk to Baby.

Not even 5 minutes later Dean comes out the bar, fists clenched. A pissed off expression covers his face. He slams the door when he enters the impala.

“Stupid ass fucking piece of shit Edward Cullen is not going to contact you again.” Dean murmurs. He steps on the gas and drives you back home. The car ride was quiet. Somehow along the way Dean had placed a gentle hand on your thigh. You accepted it, placing your hand ontop of his. You let down Baby’s windows, needing to feel the fresh air.

You and Dean enter your house. He helps you take off your heels and makes you sit on the couch. He takes off his jacket and sits next to you. You lay your head down onto his shoulder, sighing. “What is this, Dean? What are you and me?” You ask. The alcohol is still making you bold. Dean must still be feeling the alcohol too. Your glossy eyes look at each other for a little bit too long. “I want you, (Y/N).” Dean says. “Dean…I can’t do this if you are going to leave again.” You whisper. Dean’s eyes shine, a sorrow expression on his face.

“He wasn’t a demon, (Y/N).” Dean says. “For once, I’m thankful it wasn’t. I’m tired, (Y/N). I’m done hunting. I want to start over. I want to start over with you.”

Your lips crashed against his wet, plump lips. He gently grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. You moan into his mouth. Your tongues dance together and you French kiss. Dean lifts you up and places you into his lap. You grind down onto his already hard bulge. Your dress has already lifted up all the way, exposing your black lace thong. Dean moans at the sight of you. He lifts your dress off your body, immediately kissing and licking the top of your breasts. You grind down harder on Dean, needing to feel more friction against your clit. Dean takes your bra off, exposing your breasts to the cold air. He takes one nipple at a time, licking and sucking, swirling it in his mouth getting it hard. He massages your other boob in the process. You beg Dean to take off his shirt. He obliges, exposing his abs and muscles. Dean kisses all over your neck, collarbone, and down to your titties. You needed more of him. “Dean, baby, please I-“ He cuts you off with a kiss, his fingerings beginning to trail down to your soaking wet pussy. “Baby you are so wet for me.” Dean groans. You grind against his fingers, trying not to moan loud. Dean lays you down onto the chaise of the couch, while he is on his knees at the bottom of it. He pulls your thong to the side, exposing your pussy to him. His thumb slowly and gently rubs your hard clit, circling it. He begins to taste you, moaning as he does so, lapping all your juices like he’s thirsty. You swore you could have just come undone by him tongue fucking you. When he adds a finger into your soaking wet hole you scream. “Fuck Dean!” You feel as his thick, long fingers fill your hole. He curls them, hitting your spot. With his other hand he continues to rub your clit. One hand grips onto his dirty blonde locks, while the other is trying to grab onto the couch. Dean chuckles watching you unfold in front of him.

“Dean I’m going to cum.” You cry in urgency, moaning out his name. Dean decides to add another finger inside you, stretching you out with his three fingers. With another flick of your clit, you tense up and shake, and cum with a cry out. He doesn’t stop though, he rides out your orgasm, fucking you with his fingers and playing with your engorged clitrous. You body feels warm, like you’ve been sweating. Dean pulls his fingers out of you and gives you a long lick, your hole to your clit. You shudder.

However Dean is not finished with you. He unbuttons his pants, pulling down them along with his boxers, his cock popping out. Dean gives it a couple strokes, looking at your body. “Come here baby.” Dean instructs. He has you sit up on the couch while he stands. You greedily lick his cock from his balls to his tip, swirling your tongue around the tip of his penis, then planning your lips around it, sucking it to the base of his cock, choking at the length. Dean moans your name and gently holds your hair up for you, out of your face. You massage his balls with your hands, while you fuck him with your mouth. Dean cusses and shivers as you deep throat him. Dean makes you stop, pulling you up to kiss him, tasting his own cock in his mouth. Dean smacks your ass a couple times and swings you unexpectedly over his shoulders. He carry’s you up the stairs and lays you down onto bed, missionary style.

“I’ve missed you.” Dean moans into your ear, stroking his cock. “I’ve missed everything about you.” He kisses you, placing a hand on your neck, holding you in place.

Dean puts your legs over his shoulders and slowly slides his large cock into your vagina. You feel your walls opening up around him, gripping his cock tight. He begins to pump you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how sexy, and beautiful you are. How much he cares for you, how much he loves you. He’s making love to you. You moan his name out, his dick pumping deep inside of you, making your toes curl. “Dean you feel so good inside me!” You cry out, your nails trailing down his back making red marks. Dean groans into your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys along it. “If you keep on talking I’m going to cum.” Dean chuckles, making his pace faster.

“Cum for me Dean. Please cum for me!”

With that, Dean pours his cum straight into your pussy, you could feel his dick twitch strongly inside of you. His pulls out, and his cum leaks out of you. He gets off of you, and lays down behind you, pulling you into an embrace. He snuggles his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. “I won’t leave you, (Y/N).”

•••

The birds chirping in the morning wake you up. You roll over to find the bed empty. You sigh, typical. You throw on an oversized tee and head down the stairs, however a smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs, and pancakes fill you senses. There Dean is making some breakfast for the two of you. He didn’t leave.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Dean smiles at you, bringing you over a fresh cup of coffee. He places a kiss on your forehead as he does so. “So I’m thinking today I can go and buy that lawnmower…”

The end

Or is it?

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Wrath | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: child abuse, self harm (slapping/hair pulling) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, Jeff Stranger Things, Uncle Wayne Supremacy, Good Uncle Wayne, do not fuck with that man

Eddie shivers on the front porch of his uncle’s trailer, hand curled in a fist ready to knock. Wayne works weird hours and Eddie’s brain trips and stumbles trying to do the math; it’s six p.m., would he still be in bed? But he feels the sting of the pelting rain on his back, can still feel the burn in his legs from running and the bare truth of it is he’s got no place else to go. So he knocks politely on the front door and waits. 

It doesn’t take long for Wayne to come to the door, pulling it back sharply, scowling, and Eddie just can’t deal with any more people being angry today, so he shuffles backwards. But Wayne’s eyes widen as he steps outside, no shoes on, his socks getting soaked.

“Eddie? The hell you doing out in this?” Wayne asks him but then his eyes turn sharp and beady, just like Dad’s, as he takes in the bruises that Eddie can feel pulsing under his skin, at the eye he can’t see out of anymore. He pulls Eddie inside and tells him to sit.

“Your dad do this?” Wayne asks, handing him a towel. 

Eddie shrugs. “It was my fault.” He pull his top off and Wayne’s eyes flick down to his ribs. The bruise isn’t that bad, just Dad caught him funny with that stupid ring he wears, and there’s no meat on him so it’s sore. He dries himself off best he can and Wayne gives him an old flannel in exchange for his t-shirt. It’s soft and warm and he realises how tired he is, how much he just wants to curl up on the couch and sleep, but his jeans are sticking to him like wet cardboard.

Cupboards bang, draws crash, and Eddie flinches at the noise. But then he feels the warmth of cigarette breath against his cheek as Wayne sits close to him, dabbing at a cut.

“And how’d you figure that?” 

Eddie flushes with shame. “I used up the last of the milk and bread.” He leaves out the bit where his dad called him an inconsiderate bastard. “He had nothing to eat.” 

Wayne let’s out a heaving breath, like a dragon finding its flame. “He heard of stores?”

Eddie shrugs, and shit he has to stop that, Dad hates it.

Wayne sticks a couple of plasters on him, one on his eyebrow and one on his cheek, and it dawns on Eddie he has to go to fucking school like this. Has to walk through the halls with everyone knowing his business and it makes him feel sick. 

When he’s done, Wayne puts his shoes on over his damp socks and grabs his keys.

“I got a couple of errands to run, wasn’t expecting company. You got a friend you can stay with for a while?”

He nods, quick as a flash. “Jeff.”

Eddie’s wrapped in Wayne’s big coat, sitting in his stinky old truck as he drives them to the other side of town, the one with the nice houses, and the nice yards with the flower beds. Eddie’s only been here once or twice and he wasn’t sure if Jeff’s mom actually liked him or not, she was awful religious, but then so was Wayne so maybe they’d get on.

They pull up and Eddie leads the way, feeling the comforting weight of his uncle’s hand firm on his shoulder as he rings the doorbell. It only takes a moment for the door to open, Mrs Williams standing there looking like the lady from the Dawn advert, all smart blouse and apron. She sees Wayne first and then looks at Eddie and lets out a little gasp.

“I’m awful sorry to bother you ma’am, but Eddie says he’s friends with your boy?”

Mrs Williams looks shocked. “Jeffrey didn’t do this!”

“No, no,” Wayne says quickly. “I know that. It’s just that, I wasn’t expecting Eddie this evening and I have to take care of a couple of things and I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I wondered if he could sit with your boy for an hour or so?”

She thinks on it a little too long, and Eddie has no doubt she’s about to give them some excuse on why he can’t come in, but Jeff is bounding up the hallway.

“Eddie! Holy— what happened?”

“Jeffrey,” she scolds. But then she sighs and says, “I guess that would be fine.”

Jeff drags him to his bedroom and they flop to the floor together, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. 

"Your dad’s an asshole,” Jeff whispers. 

Eddie sniffs. “Yeah.” 

“Wanna play Atari?”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t have the energy for words tonight but Jeff seems to get it and they play Street Racer in silence before Mrs Williams calls them for dinner. It’s a real hot dinner, too. Not that he minds Sugar Smacks or Kraft Singles, he fucking loves Kraft singles, but it’s cold out and he hasn’t had lasagne in a long time.

Sitting at the table with Jeff and his sister and Mrs Williams is warm and cosy, but it strikes him hard that this isn’t his life, that Wayne will take him home tonight, once Dad has had time to calm down, and he’ll smooth it over like he always does and then Eddie will go back to that miserable house that hasn’t been a home in six years.

It’s nearly eight p.m when Wayne finally returns. There’s hushed voices on the doorstep before Mrs Williams calls for him. 

“See you at school tomorrow?” asks Jeff, pulling Eddie into a crushing hug.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They break apart but he doesn’t want to leave. He feels such a deep stab of jealousy at Jeff’s perfect family and perfect home, at his Atari and his nice clothes. At his safety. All the things he will never have. 

He says thank you to Mrs Williams and trudges up the path to Wayne’s truck.

Wayne pushes the passenger door open for him and the cab light comes on, shining harshly on Wayne’s face. There’s a deep red mark under his eye, like he got caught with a ring, and he’s wiping at his nose, dots of blood on his shirt. But it’s his hands that Eddie fixates on, the knuckles purpling, scraped and split, his right looking swollen and painful, and Wayne’s face pinches as he tries to stretch it.

“Uncle Wayne?” he says with a shaky voice.

“I got your things. You’re staying with me now.” Wayne turns the key in the ignition and glances across at Eddie. “That okay?”

He says it like it holds no weight. Like it’s nothing that Eddie doesn’t have to go back. Like it’s nothing that the weight that crushes his chest all the fucking time just got lifted.

And with the weight gone it all rushes to the surface, a pathetic little choked sob at first while he tries to keep it in, because you must never cry, it’s fucking weak, you’re so fucking weak, Eddie, you’re nothing, Eddie, you’re stupid, Eddie. He smacks his face, tries to pull at what’s left of his hair but Wayne’s got his hands on him, hard and unyielding but not mean. Not angry.

“Stop that now. It’s okay, Eddie,” Wayne says, gently. “He won’t lay another hand on you. Promise.”

Wayne pulls him in, awkward across the console. He’s not a toucher, Wayne, not big on hugs and kisses, always used to shake Eddie’s hand when he was little rather than kiss him goodbye, but he wraps Eddie in his arms and squeezes now, erases the fear, makes him feel wanted. Eddie feels like he can breathe, like there’s actual air in his lungs for the first time in so long. 

Eddie doesn’t stop crying, because now he doesn’t have to.

@the-unforgivenn ❤️

(Please god let me have caught all the typos)

[deadghosy]

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐀|| 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐎 𝐗 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Synopsis: drinking a pink colada, he starts to think he is too drunk to even realize that a real mermaid is in a lake of a friend of his.

Prompt: “you’re so beautiful like a siren..” “I’m actually a mermaid.”

A/N: modern au, it’s also summer time when this takes place lol. Also this isn’t proofread so sorry if there’s an English mistake

Even after graduating, Lorenzo he hadn’t dated anyone after. He tried so many things, dating advice, dating games with random people at parties, clubbing, bars, hell…even dating apps which he never thought he would do ever. Getting recently turned down by a woman at a party his friends invited to teared his ego into millions of pieces like paper to a shredder.

So what did he do? He started to drink pink coladas left and right. That’s right, he was trying to drink his feelings away which kinda worked but really didn’t.

Exiting out of the condo, drinking the last of his pink colada and groaning. He stumbled a bit as he walks to the deck towards the lake. He sighed as he slumped down, maybe slumped a little too hard as he hisses and rubbed his ass. Taking off his shoes, dipping his feet in the cold water as he closes his eyes.

Maybe he is a loser for trying to talk to a new girl. Maybe he is a loser for being so desperate for a date. Or even a sex buddy. He shivered at the thought of a sex buddy. He may had understood it for mattheo to do all that shit. But him, he started to realize that maybe he wasn’t cut out for dating again. Maybe he will die alone.

As Enzo opened his eyes, he started to hear splashes and felt water move around his ankles. Looking down, he sees eyes which makes him scream, which makes the person come out of the water screaming as well. It turns into a screaming battle before the so called person, flicks their tail and hits Lorenzo in his face. “What the?!—” “who are you!?” Lorenzo rubbed his sore cheek. “Who am I?? Who?!— no. Not even who. What are you?!” He immediately looked around. “How are you even here???” He questioned.

“I live here!” You say with a pout. Lorenzo scrunched his face hearing that. “In..in the water?” You nodded quickly. “Yes! I’m a mermaid!” You then started to show your tail towards the human man whose eyes widen. Lorenzo started to look at you, well mostly your tail which shocked him most. But your beauty stricken him the most. At first he thought he was hallucinating, but after getting slapped with your tail. He started to realize you really at real.

“You’re so beautiful like a siren…” he says, his eyes locked onto your face. You tilted your head in confusion, swimming towards him in the lake. “I’m actually a mermaid?”

Lorenzo chuckled at your naivety, “yes you are.” He started to push your wet hair from your face. “It’s a metaphor, I’m saying your beauty is like one of a siren.” You smiled starting to understand it. “Oh! That makes sense! You’re cute as a crab.”

Now Lorenzo let out a laugh at your comparison. “A crab is cute?” “Are they not?” You answer quickly, your mermaid tail flickering the water as your arms were on his lap as leverage.

You and Lorenzo talked for an entire 2 hours. You both felt very connected to each other as Lorenzo plays with your hands. You held a hand and dove under water. Lorenzo waited patiently before you came back up to show him a pearl you had stored.

“Here! It’s for you…” you said with a gummy smile. Enzo felt his heart thump at your affectionate action. Taking the pearl out of your wet hand, he stuff it in his pocket for safe keeping.

“Thanks.” Smiling back at you as you turned to the sunset. “I have to go now…” you both frown as you start to leave his presence. “W-wait!” You paused, almost going under water but turning around towards the brown haired male. “What’s your name…so I won’t forget you.” Smiling you answered him. “I’m Y/N.” You said finally, ducking under water and leaving him in the open breeze. Lorenzo smiles at the spot you were and walked back to the party which was starting to end. “Y/N..” he thought as he pulls the pearl from his pocket. He’s definitely drinking more pink coladas so he can see you more.