#how was i watching it before? .... what are you the cops?

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: while working on the case and watching a certain profiler with pretty eyes and a well-tailored coat, you overhear some local cops badmouthing him — and before you know it, you decide to put them in their place.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, unpleasant comments about spencer’s looks and behavior, diva is so diva he should marry her right now fr and hold my hand while i say this and don’t panic joke about morgan's baldness...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.8k

𝐚/𝐧: request | i was too much of a lazy bitch to make a header sorry i hope his pretty face makes up for it xx

“How are you feeling out in the field?”

Morgan addressed you with his arms loosely crossed over his chest and a slightly teasing expression on his face. You slowly shifted your gaze to him.

“Absolutely fantastic,” you replied flatly, adjusting your grip on the handle of the umbrella resting against your side. Through the tree canopies spreading above your heads, patches of gray clouds broke through, now and then releasing a few drops as a warning of the real downpour to come. “I love nature.”

He nodded ironically, clearly unconvinced.

“Of course,” he said. “Do you love the mud on your boots too?”

Almost exactly as those words left his mouth, several large raindrops tapped against his FBI jacket, followed immediately by more, falling with even greater intensity. Your friend raised his eyes to the sky, pressing his lips together in displeasure. Rainy weather always made working at a crime scene harder—securing the body and protecting biological and chemical evidence. And collecting the latter was already challenging given the location: a truly remote, densely overgrown spot in the forest, impossible to access by police vehicles. Those had been left at the end of the forest path, as far in as they could get, and you’d been led to the exact place where the latest victim of the serial killer had been found by local officers.

“I’m about to have mud on my boots,” you remarked, already imagining what would happen to the already damp ground after even just a few minutes of such heavy rain. The conditions you encountered had been predictable, so you had chosen footwear suited to them—stylish boots that also perfectly complemented the rest of your outfit. But then again, that was nothing unusual. Even if you had to evacuate during a volcanic eruption, you’d grab something you wouldn’t be ashamed to have melted into your skin by lava.

You opened the umbrella, which had until then been resting with its tip on the ground. Derek took a step toward you, premature gratitude written all over his face—so you stepped back instead, the corners of your mouth curling up mischievously.

“What? Worried about your hair?”

Morgan shook his bald head from side to side, sighing.

“You little witch—”

“Morgan!”

Hotch’s voice called out to you from a not particularly great distance. Even he—who normally never parted with his suit—was now wearing a brown fleece with a high collar and was currently overseeing the setup of a police tent over the recovered body to protect it from the rain.

Derek gave you a nod in farewell, ending the brief chat, but you didn’t even follow him with your eyes. Your gaze remained fixed in Hotch’s direction—or more precisely, on the member of his team who had just approached him. What immediately caught your attention was that Reid was wearing a very well-tailored coat (a detail that made you purse your lower lip in approval, because well tailored coats did have something about them), and he had just begun explaining something, as usual gesturing animatedly with his hands—now covered in blue rubber gloves, lightly dusted with dark soil.

Focused on whatever fascinating theory or analysis he was sharing, he seemed completely unaware of at least half of his gestures, absentmindedly rubbing his chin with the dirty glove in concentration—naturally leaving a mark on his skin.

You rolled your eyes at the sight, but there was something surprisingly gentle in that gesture. You turned the handle of the umbrella in your hand, which also rested on your shoulder—and then the corner of your ear caught a scrap of conversation happening behind your back. Even without turning your head, just by slightly focusing your hearing, you could tell it was coming from two of the local officers also present at the scene.

“Where do you think they even dug him up from?” asked the first male voice mockingly.

“Which one?” the second sounded confused, but a moment later let out a derisive snort. “Alright, don’t even tell me. I already know who you mean.”

Laughter. Real kings of comedy, truly.

“I wonder what he’s even doing in the FBI. I mean, they’ve got to have some kind of fitness tests, right? What’s a beanpole like that even good for?”

“I’ll tell you what he’s good for—pissing everyone off with his babbling. Just look at the other guy’s face.”

Following the suggestion, you looked at the other guy’s face. That, of course, meant Hotch’s face—there was no doubt who the first part of that pathetic, taxpayer-funded conversation had been about. You studied the BAU chief’s expression more closely and didn’t detect a hint of irritation or weariness at whatever Spencer was explaining to him. Hotch simply looked like Hotch.

Your observation was interrupted by the approach of one of your team members, the hood of her raincoat pulled tightly around her head and her glasses nearly completely covered in rain.

“We’re going to have to go back to the car for the equipment,” she informed you, adjusting her glasses on her nose with a sigh the moment she looked toward the path you had come from earlier. That meant quite a bit of walking through muddy terrain, carrying rather heavy items—always packed in sturdy cases for safety reasons.

A certain thought popped into your head, and with a smile creeping onto your lips, you calmed Olivia with a wave of your hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. The woman frowned suspiciously as you turned over your shoulder toward the two men behind you. “Gentlemen, could I ask you for a favor?”

They stared at you for a beat too long, then at each other—and then eagerly stepped forward to fulfill the favor, whatever it was.

“Of course...”

“Anything you wish...”

You cleared your throat.

“You’ll go and bring back the case with number two on it,” you instructed.

Olivia furrowed her brows and parted her lips to protest, but you silenced her with just a look.

“But you need to be extremely careful,” you continued smoothly, “so, very slowly. Ideally, carry it together—for stability.”

The men listened with rapt attention and visible determination to follow your directions. Which, of course, were nonsense—one person could easily carry it alone. But trying to do it as a pair would stretch the trip out nicely in all that rain and mud. Then, well, they were gone, like children you’d promised candy to.

It was so very typical of the kind of men you made use of—just as typical as their pitiful little sense of being useful, irreplaceable.

You watched them vanish between the trees, and when your gaze met Olivia's again, her face showed both surprise and a certain intrigue.

“But we need case number three,” she pointed out, correctly.

You opened your mouth in exaggerated disbelief.

“Really…? Oh, Olivia, why didn’t you say so earlier,” you sighed, making it clear that the whole thing had been a game from the start.

The woman stayed silent for a moment, genuinely trying to figure out your intentions. She gave up shortly after, shaking her head with a sigh.

“And what kind of sadist are you playing today?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” you assured her.

The officers returned, lugging the wrong case and looking like wet dogs, their hair plastered to their foreheads from the rain, which had only intensified since they’d left. They set it down in front of you and Olivia, both sheltered under the umbrella you were holding, visibly relieved they hadn’t dropped it.

You waited a few seconds, during which they stood silently, clearly expecting some kind of eternal gratitude, before raising an eyebrow.

“I said case number three.”

They exchanged a look.

“Um, I’m pretty sure you said the one with number two on it.”

“Um, sounds like you’ve got a hearing problem,” you snapped, sharper than you’d intended, the words slipping out before you could stop them

It wasn’t something you’d planned from the start, and for a second, you were secretly surprised at yourself. But since sharpness and spite had apparently chosen you today, you decided to stick with that version of events and made sure your face reflected the proper level of displeasure.

Olivia glanced sideways at you for a long moment, then nodded with faux certainty.

“Yeah, she definitely said case number three. You must’ve misheard. Not your fault, maybe it was the rain,” she offered in a more sympathetic tone, though still fully backing your story.

The men exchanged confused looks, now with a flicker of doubt that maybe it had been their mistake. So, off they went again—to return the wrong case and fetch the correct one. When they finally disappeared, you gave Olivia a small, grateful smile.

Only to immediately wipe it off your face as the dumbasses reappeared, and declare:

“And what about my handbag? I told you to bring that too.”

And what amused you the most was that the two of them only started showing any suspicion or doubt after their third trek through the rain and mud. Frustration flashed in one of their eyes as he handed you your handbag.

“Was this really necessary for working the case?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Unbothered, and with their eyes still on you, you calmly reached into the bag for your compact mirror and lipstick, touching up your makeup with the faintest swipe.

“No,” you replied, snapping the mirror shut. “But at least you were useful for something. There’s no intellectual work here for two such empty heads, so you might as well make use of those muscles.” You gave them a critical once-over with that last word—because honesty, their physiques weren’t all that impressive either.

They stared at you in complete stupefaction before walking off, muttering something under their breath about a crazy bitch. Well, you had no intention of wasting another word on them. Another thing you had no intention of doing was explaining the entire ordeal to the clearly intrigued Olivia. And the main reason for that was the fact that you hadn’t fully rationalized it to yourself. Maybe you were just running on a higher than usual dose of spite that day.

Maybe there was another reason entirely.

Shortly afterward, Reid approached you, preoccupied with peeling off his latex gloves, only glancing at you with brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Is it just me, or did you send these guys to the cars three times?” he asked.

You merely gave a slight shrug.

“That’s what happens when you have trouble following instructions,” you remarked simply.

And before walking off to rejoin your team, you reached up and wiped that smudge of dirt from his chin with your thumb—the one you'd spotted earlier—leaving him, to put it mildly, completely stunned.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Please don't leave me like that ever again. It scared me." x clayton keller. maybe after a fight with reader?

Oh, this was angsty but I love me a man who loves you so much he worries for your safety even when you're probably fine. 1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

"Don't walk out, please, baby!" He's following you to the front door, you're not even dressed, pajamas on, slippers on your feet and keys in your hand. You don't even have your phone on you.

"Just leave me alone, Clay! I need to think!" You're not thinking rationally. Just angry, upset. You feel like you might cry and maybe it's silly, maybe it's stupid but all you'd ever asked of Clay was for him to communicate with you, to keep you in the loop.

"Baby..." He follows you out into the street, barefoot not even thinking about grabbing shoes. It's midnight and the last thing he wants is for you to be out alone, wandering around in your pajamas all because he didn't let you know he'd be home late, all because he'd strolled in at 10 minutes to midnight while you'd been waiting up for him...and he gets it. God, he gets it. He should have text you. He normally would have, he just got so caught up in drinking with the guys, playing a round of pool, that he forgot...and he knows that's not a good excuse.

"Leave me alone, Clay."

He stops in the street and watches you walk away...long enough for you to disappear around a corner, long enough for him to swear to himself, disappearing into the house for his keys and phone, shoving his feet into a pair of slides before rushing after you.

Except when he turns the corner you're not there, he can't see you at all. It's like you've disappeared completely, it sets a panic through Clayton. The sort of panic that has him feeling sick to the stomach, calling out your name even though he knows his neighbours are going to hate him, heck they might even call the cops, but he doesn't care.

He takes every logical turn, maybe you went down this street? You always pet the cat on that one and what about down here where Mrs Norris, the nice 93 year old you bring cookies, lives? By the time he circles back to the street your house is on he's sweating, panicked, so worried that he's about ready to phone the cops even though it's been at most an hour.

Except you're there, sat on the porch steps, head in your hands and it's like he physically deflates, shoulders dropping, all that fear, all that worry draining out of him.

"Fuck..." You look up when you hear him, standing, bottom lip shaking a little because you know you overreacted and you're sorry and even an hour away from him felt like crap.

Clay rushes to you like you've been gone years, hands cupping your face, forehead pressing into yours with an urgency that almost scares you because he seems so panicked, so different from his usual calm, collected self.

"Please don't leave me like that ever again. It scared me...fuck, I thought..." His nostrils flare, a deep breath in as he tries to calm himself down, trying not to clutch at you too hard. Your hands reach for his forearms, rubbing up and down in soothing motions, fingers gripping him as if to say 'i'm right here.'

"I'm okay, Clay..." He's practically shaking underneath your hands, adrenaline wearing off and for the first time you really understand just how much Clayton cares about you, loves you. For the first time you really understand that when he told you not to walk off, it wasn't because he wanted to keep arguing or because he wanted to control you, it was because he was worried something might happen...that he wanted you safe. You're almost certain he would have offered to leave the house instead, so long as you were safe inside it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have text you I was going to be home late..." His fingers are almost urgent, petting back your hair, tracing over your skin, trying to reassure himself that you're there, you're real, you're okay. He can't explain it really, the way his stomach had dropped when he first realised he couldn't see you anymore, how that deep well of dread had formed inside him...

"It's okay...I'm sorry that I walked off, that I made you worry, I'm okay. I promise." You've both made mistakes tonight, done things you regret, done things in ways that should have been done differently. What remaining frustration you hold is gone, replaced by a deep, deep desire to comfort Clay.

"Fuck...sweet girl, I thought something had happened to you..."

"I'm okay...let's go inside, yeah?" You urge him towards the door as you take a step backwards, he follows like being parted from you is painful as you ease him closer to the house.

"Yeah...yeah."

In that moment you vow to never walk out into the middle of the night alone again because the sight of him like that is too much.

[fibfoolingart]

the lords in black were summoned, but if the lakeside mall was a shorter walk than the high school

i was thinking ab how the lords’ “holding court in their form” seems influenced by being summoned in a high school, and what they might look like if they were summoned in the mall instead.

so instead of jocks and theatre nerds, we get: a mall goth, a food court employee, an unattended sticky child, a mall cop, and an ancient mall walker.

further explanation (semi pete’s pov) of what role they take and the kind of feelings they evoke below the cut:

pokey is a mall goth. but not the kind built on personal freedoms or anti-establishment grit. pokey feels like a mall goth curated by the algorithm, tiktok trends and a thousand-dollar amazon cart. his hair’s professionally dyed, his boots unscuffed. but that’s not really what you notice. it’s the presence he radiates, this quiet, sharpened confidence that only comes from belonging. you’ve never worn black lipstick, never cared for goth music, but still… something about him makes you wish you did. makes you wish you could walk beside him. his blue is familiar (not like richie’s warm teal, staining your fingers in a cramped bathroom) but in a painful way. it’s the blue of dart frogs and stovetop flames. of winter skies so empty and flat they feel like a threat. and when he looks at you, really looks, you’re not just alone. you’re individual. and it hurts.

nibbly is probably the happiest food court worker you’ve ever seen. or maybe he’s just grinning. a grin that stretches too wide, showing every tooth. too wide to be safe. nibbly’s the color of intestines, of pus-pocked acne, of grease shimmering over something bloody. his uniform might’ve started as the same highlighter pink behind every counter, but now it’s muted, aged by years (or eons) of absorbing grease. it almost looks like nibbly himself has been steeped in oil: hair clumped and sticky against his face, his shirt, your food. his visor is dull pink, his eyes cloaked in shadow. he holds a tray out to you. your hands twitch to take it. it feels like you’re supposed to relieve him of it. it’s your order. even if you didn’t place one. even if you don’t know what’s on it. you just… know. and somewhere deep in your stomach, you get the sinking feeling that it’s not the food he wants to eat.

wiggly is a paragon of snotty mall kids. sticky, unsupervised, and terrifyingly confident in the way only children who've never been punished can be. he’s also unmistakably green, crusted around his nose and mouth, fossilized under his fingernails, soaked into his shirt. and he hates you. not in the vague, bratty way. this is something deeper. something personal. every unattended kid in a mall dreams of crushing you like an ant. but when this kid looks at you, you understand that he can. he holds himself with more than reckless confidence. he’s not just sure no one will stop him. he’s sure you can’t.

blinky is a mall cop whose issues with authority transcend the stereotype. he doesn’t resent power, he needs it. he deserves it. He’s compensating for it, breathing down, your neck, keeping constant vigilance. you’ve seen him before. every mall has one. maybe it’s the flickering security cameras blinking orange in the corners. maybe it’s the static whisper of the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. maybe it’s just the way you feel watched before you’ve even walked inside. his sunglasses hide his eyes, but somehow you know. he’s looking at you. you haven’t done anything wrong. not really. but he knows. he knows what you would do. and he’s waiting for it.

tinky is still walking. he’s been walking since the fountain ran. maybe since the mall opened. maybe since before that. his tracksuit used to be tan. now it’s yellow, sickly, rusted, corroded by sweat and time. his skin, his hair, his eyes, everything about him is yellowing, wilting. creased with the dusty, moldy hue of things forgotten in the dark. his walk is slow. wheezing. bones grinding under paper-thin skin. but he doesn’t stop. he never stops. he laps the fountain, again and again. when he looks at you (eyes jaundiced yellow under the cloud of curdled milk cataracts) you feel it. not fear. not pity. recognition. you wonder if this is your future. if this is all that’s left for you. just the suit. the steps. the orbit.

but also their designs might still be the same bc the summoners are still high schoolers, and the lords are just mirroring them lol

[erosmutt]

⠀⠀⠀⠀♰⠀ 𓈒 ⠀thinkin'⠀ ﾉ⠀bout

﹒cops Han & Anakin ★ dubcon, bribing, corrupt law enforcement, perverts!!! PART ONE﹒ not proofread bc i have a headache guh

"License and registration, sweetheart."

You look up at the cop standing at your window, arms resting on your door. His shades rest atop his head, nestled in his soft brown hair. At your passenger side, his partner rests a hand on the roof of the car, leaned down, looking at you. When you glance over, he flashes you a grin, the wind tousling his honeyed curls. You were caught speeding down a back road - who knows how many miles there are between you and the next person to drive through.

Reaching over to the glovebox, you make a soft noise of discomfort before taking your seatbelt off and leaning over, opening the glovebox and retrieving your papers, then going into your purse and getting your license. You hand it to the cop standing at your driver's side - Solo, his badge reads. His partner opens the door and looks around the car with his flashlight - Skywalker, his badge reads. Turning your attention back to Solo, you watch as he flips through your papers, the gum in his mouth getting smacked obnoxiously before he spits it out onto the ground beside him. "Gimme a minute." He stands up straight. "I'll be right back with these. Anakin, keep 'er company, will ya?"

As Solo walks off, you look over at the other officer, whose name is apparently Anakin, watching as he rifles through your shit unprompted. "Got anything on you?" He asks with a playful lilt as if knowing that you don't. You shrug. "Maybe." His blue eyes flick up to meet yours, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe? Do I have to pat you down? Step out of the car for me."

Doing what he asks, you get out of the car, putting your hands against it. "Yes officer." Anakin comes around to you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back into him. "Stand up straight," he murmurs, his lips by your ear, his words a gentle, warm caress against your skin. "Now, I'll ask you again," his right hand, that you're just now noticing is covered by a black leather glove, slips up your stomach, his fingers splaying across it and digging into the soft skin subtly. "Got anything on you?"

You shake your head, letting out a soft whine. "No officer, nothing," your voice is pleading. The sound of heavy footsteps against the pavement and the slight jingle of keys is heard, making the two of you look towards the source. Officer Solo walks up, looking the two of you up and down. "Here's the deal, sunshine," he begins, folding your registration and tucking your license into the paper. "this ain't the first time you've caught a traffic violation. So, I'll cut you a deal." He tosses your things into the car not caring that they miss the seat and fall onto the floor. "I won't clock you, and you do us a favor. Sound good enough?"

Anakin's left hand snakes up your body, gently gripping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, making you gasp. "Han is giving you an opportunity. I would take it if I were you." You look up at Han, his hazel eyes not even focused on yours, but instead on the way Anakin is playing with your body. "'kay," you concede. The distinct sound of a car coming makes Anakin pull away. The three of you stand there waiting as the car goes past with a 'woosh.' once it's around the curve and out of sight, his hand is back on you, this time on the curve of your ass. "Atta girl," Han praises. "Now get down on your knees and show me how grateful you are."

♱ @102hannah ⋆ @addictedtohobi ⋆ @brooklynb8by ⋆ @darthrenswiftie ⋆ @judasprieist ⋆ @lacebird ⋆ @schizo-toddhoward ⋆ @grymghoul

♱ @zapernz ⋆ @jediavengers ⋆ @enchant5d ⋆ @trippyhippywitch ⋆ @valloos ⋆ @piastricentric ⋆ @gallerygourmet ⋆ @anakinsbbgirl ⋆ @ilovekmchenzie ⋆ @s1ck-skv1l ⋆ @offthethirlwall ⋆ @tfmerc

♱ @starlmbed ⋆ @slutforfinnickodair ⋆ @necromancerrrs ⋆ @theladykassia ⋆ @thesassypadawan ⋆ @cocobear18 ⋆ @anisangeldust ⋆ @fredswrite ⋆ @byunnue

♱ @cherriies-snake ⋆ @haydenslittlegirl ⋆ @espinathena-17 ⋆ @fallout-girl219 ⋆ @xhunnybeeex ⋆ @radiantvader ⋆ @urmomsgirlfriend1 ⋆ @hayden-christensen-verse ⋆ @dreamygirli3 ⋆ @awhhayden

[saturnsag3]

Just a Trim - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: will gets a haircut and macklin feels nothing but betrayal

wc: 2,946

Will thought nothing of it.

He’d gone to the same barbershop he always did, sat in the same chair, chatted with the same guy about the Timberwolves and his tragic fantasy football team. A little off the sides, cleaned up the neckline, left the curls on top mostly alone. He felt lighter walking out. Sharper. Clean, but still distinctly him.

The door to their apartment creaked open and he stepped inside, setting his keys in the bowl by the entrance.

“Mack?” he called, toeing off his sneakers. “Babe? You home?”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Will?”

Macklin’s voice came from the living room, confused, like he wasn’t sure if it was actually Will at the door. Will furrowed his brow, dropping a Walmart bag on the kitchen counter.

Macklin padded around the corner in a pair of old socks and one of Will’s oversized hoodies. He had a spoon in his hand—peanut butter, classic—and a suspicious look on his face.

Then he stopped.

Then blinked.

And Will watched, in real time, as his boyfriend’s expression melted from vaguely curious to full-body betrayal.

“What,” Macklin breathed, pointing the peanut butter spoon at him like it was a weapon, “did you do?”

Will blinked. “...What?”

“No. No, no, no, no. Don’t play dumb,” Macklin said, taking two steps forward. “What did you do?”

Will raised both hands in defense, half-laughing. “I got a haircut? Jesus, Mack, you’re looking at me like I drowned your childhood pet.”

Macklin’s eyes were wide, still fixated on his head like it had personally offended him. “Why is it so short?”

“It’s not short,” Will said, defensively ruffling his own hair. “It’s barely a trim. I told him to clean it up, leave the curls.”

Macklin didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms, spoon still in hand. “It looks like you joined the army.”

Will let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s literally the same cut I always get.”

“No, it’s not,” Macklin said, indignant. “You had the perfect curls yesterday. Like—like soft little golden blonde curls on your head. And now? Now you look like an extra in a CW cop show.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“It’s the truth, William.”

Will crossed the room toward him. “Mack. Baby. It’s not that different.”

Macklin stepped back. “Don’t ‘baby’ me. You betrayed me.”

“I didn’t think it would be a whole thing,” Will said, trying not to laugh as he reached for him. “It’s just hair.”

“You always say that like it doesn’t matter. But it’s your hair, Will,” Macklin said, ducking under his arms and pacing a circle around him. “I loved that hair. I styled it. I lived in it.”

Will grinned, turning to face him. “You did not live in it.”

Macklin looked at him, dead serious. “I took naps in it, Will.”

“You—??”

“I’d run my fingers through it and just… drift off. It’s like—like my own emotional support curls. And now they’re gone.”

Will tilted his head. “Are you genuinely mad or is this your way of angling for pity sex?”

“Yes,” Macklin said. “To both.”

Will stepped closer, arms sneaking around his waist. “It’s still soft,” he offered.

Macklin didn’t resist, but he did pout. “Not the same.”

Will leaned in, gently brushing his nose against Macklin’s. “I promise, the curls will be back in like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks,” Macklin repeated like it was a death sentence. “Do you know how long that is in my world?”

“I’m gonna say… a lifetime?”

“No. Longer.” 

Will laughed, his breath warm against Macklin’s cheek. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re reckless,” Macklin shot back, poking him in the chest. “You didn’t even warn me.”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“You always have to. I have to mentally prepare before you do things like this. There should be a protocol.”

Will pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

Macklin didn’t lean into it like he usually did. Instead, he looked at Will, face still slightly scrunched, eyes scanning his hair like he was trying to will it back into its full, bouncy glory.

Will sighed. “Okay. Be honest. On a scale of one to ‘you’ve ruined our relationship,’ how bad is it?”

Macklin narrowed his eyes. “It’s not bad, per se…”

Will arched a brow.

“…it’s just not ideal.”

“Wow. That hurts more than if you just called me ugly.”

“You’re not ugly,” Macklin huffed, finally wrapping his arms around Will’s shoulders. “You’re still painfully hot. Just… like, 15% less cuddly.”

Will snorted, hugging him close. “Cuddly has a metric now?”

“I like numbers. It makes it easier to yell at you.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other. Will kissed the top of Macklin’s head and felt him relax, the tension slipping from his shoulders.

“I’ll grow it back,” Will murmured. “Just for you.”

Macklin grunted. “I expect nothing less.”

Will grinned. “And maybe next time, I’ll take you with me. Let you supervise the haircut. Give them a PowerPoint presentation.”

Macklin perked up at that, the pout on his face beginning to morph into something smug. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I could make slides. Slide one: ‘Do Not Touch the Top.’ Slide two: ‘The Curls Are Sacred.’ Slide three: ‘Any Violations Will Result in Tears.’”

Will laughed, his chest shaking lightly against Macklin’s. “Tears? Whose?”

“Mine, obviously. And probably yours after I make you sleep on the couch.”

“You’re really gonna exile me over a half-inch of hair?”

Macklin sniffed dramatically. “It’s not about the half-inch. It’s about the principle.”

“Oh my god.”

“You should be grateful I love you enough to forgive you for this.”

“I’m shaking with gratitude, babe.”

Macklin finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it by pressing his cheek to Will’s shoulder. “You should be. I was gonna do that thing you like tonight, but..”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Now…?”

“I’m reconsidering.”

Will slipped a hand under the hem of Macklin’s hoodie. “What if I win you back with snacks?”

“You basically just called me a fat pig who can be bribed with a meal”

Will froze, eyes going wide. “What? No! That’s not—babe, I meant like, as a love language. Snacks as a love language. Not—”

Macklin’s face split into a shit-eating grin. “I’m messing with you.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “You’re annoying”

“You love it.”

“I do not love being tricked into thinking I insulted my boyfriend five seconds after being accused of follicular betrayal.”

Macklin poked him in the ribs. “Follicular betrayal. Big words for a man with a buzzcut.”

“It is not a buzzcut!”

“You don’t know what you look like from the back.”

Will groaned, flopping onto the couch in defeat. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a criminal. A haircut criminal. I still don’t know if I’ve emotionally recovered.”

Will held out a hand dramatically. “Then come here and let me comfort you in your time of need”

Macklin hesitated, grabbing the bag of Cheez-its from the Walmart bag then plopping himself right into Will’s lap with all the grace of a brick. “Fine. But only because I need to monitor your hair at close range.”

Will chuckled, arms wrapping around him instinctively. “Right. For science.”

“Exactly. Scientific observation. Like... damage control. Curl grief therapy.”

Will pressed a kiss just beneath Macklin’s jaw, his voice muffled. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And yet here you are, begging for forgiveness with the promise of Cheez-Its.”

“I knew the Cheez-Its were working.”

“They’re not not working,” Macklin admitted, already cracking open the bag and pulling out a fistful. “This is a long road to recovery, though. Might take weeks.”

“I’ll schedule the regrowth timeline in my calendar,” Will deadpanned. “Should I also reserve a grief counselor?”

“Yes. But only if he has curls.”

Will laughed, warm and fond and a little hopeless. “You’re so lucky you were born with a pretty face”

Macklin shoved a cracker into Will’s mouth before leaning in, nose brushing his cheek. “You’re lucky I still think you’re cute, buzz cut boy.”

Will groaned again. “It’s not—okay. I already said I promised to bring you with me.”

“And I’m holding you to that.”

“I’ll print you a badge. ‘Curl Supervisor.’”

Macklin grinned. “With full authority to slap the clippers out of their hands if they go rogue.”

Will tilted his head back to look at him, all exaggerated solemnity. “You’d fight my barber?”

“Gladly. For the greater good.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re still 15% less hot.”

Will gasped. “That’s unfair.”

“It’s math, babe. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Will tugged him down by the front of his hoodie and kissed him until Macklin stopped pretending to be mad, until the hands in his hair turned from judgmental to affectionate, curling gently into the shorter strands with a satisfied sigh.

“…Okay,” Macklin mumbled eventually, pulling back just an inch. “Maybe like… 12% less hot.”

Will huffed. “Progress.”

“And dropping rapidly,” Macklin added, leaning in again. “If you keep kissing me like that.”

Will grinned against his mouth. “I’ll have you down to zero in no time.”

Macklin laughed, soft and low, and rested his forehead against Will’s. “You better. Or I’m gluing extensions to your head while you sleep.”

“Threats of violence and arts and crafts. Who did I fall in love with?”

“You knew what this was when you started dating me.”

Will kissed him again, slow and sweet. “Yeah. And I’d do it all over again.”

Macklin softened at that. Just a little. Then he buried his face in Will’s neck and muttered, “Don’t let it happen again.”

Will chuckled. “Yessir.“ 

“Damn right.”

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i love the running joke about “hiding the scissors” from will bcs of his hair so i took that and ran with it, also it’s my job to make all of my wacklin fics extremely corny and cheesy so please bare with me i can’t help myself, hope u guys enjoyed!

[kolawnk]

revenge, perhaps ?

014 ☆ if i let you in again

⊯sypnosis: y/n, a beloved singer, fell deeply in love with the famous model Park Sunghoon, whose charm quickly turned their relationship into a global sensation. She was blind to his flaws, believing love could change his troubled past. But two months ago, she discovered the heartbreaking truth—he cheated. The betrayal shattered her. Yet, despite the pain, y/n still finds herself haunted by thoughts of him. Now, with her upcoming single, she's channeling that heartbreak into art, pouring all the unresolved emotions into her music. It’s not just a song—it’s her revenge, her way of reclaiming herself. Little did she know, someone was watching her more closely than anyone else.

The call connected before she could change her mind.

For a second, there was only silence. Then—

“YN?”

His voice was soft. Careful. Like he thought she might hang up the second he spoke.

She didn’t say anything at first. She couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the paused frame of the video still on her screen—her walking through the dim corridor backstage, the red light of the exit sign glowing behind her. Filmed by someone hiding. Someone near.

“He was there,” she said finally, her voice low and shaking. “Tonight. He was there.”

“I’m coming,” Sunghoon said, no hesitation.

“No,” she snapped. “I told you not to come. I told you—”

“You called me,” he cut in. “You did. You could’ve called your security, or your team, or the cops again. But you called me.”

Her breath hitched.

She hated that he was right.

“I don’t know why I did,” she muttered. “Habit, probably. That’s all it is.”

“I don’t care what it is,” he said. “I’m still coming.”

The line went dead before she could argue.

30 MINUTES LATER

There was a knock at her door. Three short raps. One pause. Then two more. The exact pattern he used to use back when he’d show up with takeout and some dumb movie she secretly loved.

She looked through the peephole.

Sunghoon. Cap pulled low. Eyes alert.

She opened the door slowly, only enough to meet his gaze. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not here for that.”

Then he saw her face clearly—and everything in him broke a little. The tough exterior, the walls, the dry tone—none of it hid how tired she looked. How scared.

He stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

The apartment was barely furnished. Half her stuff was still in boxes, shoes scattered by the entryway, a guitar leaned against the wall, untouched.

“Security?” he asked.

“They’re outside. Building’s covered. But that video… it wasn’t from outside.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Then it was someone inside the venue. Someone with access.”

She nodded. Then walked over to her phone and played the clip again.

He watched it once. Then again. Then he took the phone from her and paused it on a single frame—the corner of a staff lanyard just visible in the bottom right.

“I’ll get it to my people,” he said. “This guy messed up. He left a mark.”

YN didn’t answer. She sat on the couch, legs curled under her, arms folded tightly.

“I can stay on the floor,” he offered gently. “Or just until someone else gets here. You don’t have to talk to me. I’ll just be… here.”

She stared at him for a long moment. And then, quietly:

“You broke me, Sunghoon.”

He nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“You shouldn’t.”

She looked down. “And yet… I feel safer when you’re here.”

That—that—hit him harder than anything.

“I’ll earn it back,” he said. “Not now. Not tonight. But one day.”

She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t ask him to leave.

He sat on the floor beside the couch, back to the wall, silent as her breathing evened out and her eyes finally drifted closed.

YN’s eyes flew open the second her phone buzzed. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. The room was dark, the only light spilling from the kitchen where she’d left a dim lamp on.

Her heart dropped.

She sat up sharply, breath shallow, scanning the room. Sunghoon was still on the floor beside the couch, barely dozing, his head resting back against the wall. But his eyes snapped open the second he felt her shift.

“What is it?” he said instantly.

She held out the phone with a trembling hand.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just stared at the photos. Then: “He’s outside.”

Sunghoon stood, all sleep gone from his posture. He moved with quiet urgency—checking the lock, peeking through the peephole, flipping off lights. His phone was already in his hand, dialing.

“Security needs to sweep the perimeter again. He’s across the street, maybe on foot.”

A pause. “Tell them I’m here. They’ll know what to do.”

He glanced back at YN, who hadn’t moved. She was still curled up, knees to her chest, like she could fold herself small enough to disappear.

“I should’ve changed buildings,” she whispered. “I should’ve—”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon said gently, kneeling in front of her. “Don’t blame yourself for this. He’s the one breaking laws. You’re just living your life.”

“Barely.”

Her voice cracked on the word.

“I’m so tired of being scared,” she said. “Of checking every corner. Of waking up from dreams where I’m running, and he’s always two steps behind.”

Sunghoon’s hand hovered in the space between them, hesitant. “Can I—”

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

He rested his hand on hers, tentative. No pressure. No expectations.

“I promise,” he said, “this ends soon. We’re going to find him. We’re going to stop him. You’re not alone in this.”

A quiet beat. Then she whispered:

“But I feel alone. With you. Even now.”

The words cut deep.

Sunghoon didn’t defend himself. He just nodded slowly, thumb brushing her knuckles. “I know I ruined the one place you used to feel safe. I wish I could take it back.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him—the exhaustion in his face, the guilt. The heartbreak he was still carrying like a punishment.

“You made your choices,” she said, voice low. “I’m just trying to survive mine.”

The next few hours passed slowly.

Security arrived. A sweep was done. No one was found. The van was empty, the street deserted. But the photos didn’t lie—he had been there.

Sunghoon stayed up the entire night. YN dozed, barely, but every time she stirred, he was there. Still against the wall. Still awake. Still watching the door.

3:41 AM – SECURITY ROOM, BUILDING BASEMENT

The guard tapped a key on the keyboard.

“Here,” he said. “2:45 AM. Someone in a black hoodie stands by the door, takes a photo, then walks toward the emergency stairwell.”

Sunghoon and YN leaned closer.

The video was grainy. The figure had their head down, face obscured by the hood and shadows. But the way they moved—slow, measured, rehearsed—it sent a shiver down both their spines.

“Do you have a clearer angle?” Sunghoon asked.

“We’re pulling other cams now.”

“Save everything,” YN said. “I’ll forward it to the detectives.”

As they left the room, Sunghoon turned to her.

“I’m staying until he’s caught.”

“You can’t,” she said.

“I know you don’t want me to. But I can’t pretend I don’t care if something happens to you.”

She stared at him. She looked so tired. So worn out. And somehow still so full of fire.

“You don’t get to be the hero now,” she said. “You lost that right.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m not here to be the hero. I just want you safe.”

5:12 AM – Y/N'S LIVING ROOM

Dawn light filtered in through the blinds. YN had finally fallen asleep curled on the couch, one arm tucked beneath her head.

Sunghoon sat nearby, watching the door, eyes bloodshot, every sound making him flinch.

His phone buzzed.

He looked over at her again, and quietly whispered, “I’m sorry, YN. For everything.”

She didn’t hear him.

But maybe one day, she would.

prev 《 masterlist 》 next

taglist!! (req open) @curaheehee @sngj08 @tasnemluvs @honestlyatomicpanda @haerin-luv @angelzforu @hyuneskkami @nessas-archive @enhastars @rikidaze @leralise @nk-3554 @hyuneskkami @angelzforu @semi-wife @desistay @ddeonuu4me

[batcavescolony]

S4 E20 Supernatural

Misha Collins is an amazing actor, I can't see a shred of Castiel when he's playing Jimmy. He's in the same clothes but when he's Cass he's Cass and when he's Jimmy he's Jimmy. He holds himself differently, He speaks differently, He is fully another character.

Jimmy seems cool, but why don't Sam and Dean check and see if the people that they save from demons are possessed by demons? Just a 'Cristo' or splash of holy water just to make sure? I'd take like half a minute and then you know they're truly safe? Jimmy giving himself up so Clare doesn't have to be a vessel 😭😭😭.

Then Dean finding out Sam has been drinking demons blood for a power up. Saying he's not mad just disappointed then him and Bobby devised a plan to get him to quit cold turkey, this'll be interesting. We're getting to the end of the season.

[albonium]

wild to me that it takes hours for people in the usa to vote. it's never taken me more than 10 minutes and that's including the inevitable chit chat with the people there because they're either my parents' neighbours or the parents of people i went to school with.

[nemesisvortex]

imagine an episode of a medical drama, where one of the patients self-diagnoses or otherwise hinders the staff by utilizing information they learned off of tv (medical dramas), thinking they know better than the average patient because of their extensive binging, and the lesson of the episode is the dangers of taking stuff you learn on reality tv, or tv in general seriously

[rustystars]

s1 of true detective has its own share of misogyny but at the very least, there’s a thread throughout it that not treating the women in your life with respect leads to those women not wanting to be around you. marty consistently views women & girls as either in need of protection or in want of sex rather than as complex people, & the story punishes him for this. maggie leaves him & his daughters barely talk to him & his girlfriends are few & far between. & this doesn’t make him a bad person! he’s the hero of the story & he cares incredibly deeply about them, but until he sees them as people, it’s hard for them to want to be around him. it’s a baseline understanding that misogyny, both systematically & on personal levels, leads to women being miserable.

compare that with s2, which somewhat builds itself around conversations of sexual agency & exploitation, but cannot define a single woman outside of her relationship to men. women are abused by men & must be saved by them; when women help themselves they do so ineffectively; they scream & cry & fuck & even then men know how to do it better. even ani, the main character & the Strong Badass Woman detective, is punished for having sex. she cannot protect herself or process her own sexual trauma (only men can help her do that), & she cannot make good decisions in terms of partners (& it's only fair that men degrade & shame her in response.) the only way she, & any other woman in s2, can be happy is through marriage or motherhood. she expresses nowhere in the show that she wants to be a mother, but the viewer is meant to accept her ending as happy, because she has a baby, so she MUST be. the only women who matter, or who can find any sort of contentment, are the mothers of sons. every child in s2 is a boy because women exist only to raise or fuck them, & have no experience of girlhood at all. you can be happy only if you find a good man, & if you can't, only if you commit yourself to being a good mother to your sons. women can only be happy with men to guide them. & also the mystery is boring to watch because fuck you

[madamechrissy]

Stripper! Satoru

Pairings- Stripper! Satoru x Bride! reader

Summary- You've been promised your entire life to Naoya Zenin, and now there's just one night left. Never having a choice, or any freedom, raised to be his perfect bride- your friends throw a party with the hottest male revue show there is, and that's where you meet him - Satoru.

Warnings - MDNI- Satoru is basically Magic Mike, angstyyy, explicit sex, loss of virginity, oral ( f receiving) sweet/whipped Satoru, sheltered reader, kissing, drinking, reader is engaged (arranged marriage) so morally gray but it's Naoya so fuck him, emotional asff , open end for now! (story will wrap it up) <3

This will be a FULL length multichapter fic after I finish a cpl wips, it's been eating me up to write so I want to show you at least a preview of it! tag list open for when it's released, drop a comment if you wanna get added! it's a long one <3

Stripper! Satoru who is the star of the biggest male revue in the nation, he's always showing off his well oiled, defined abs, and making every girl there feel so good. He loves watching how they tremble as they touch his abdomen, loves the way they giggle when he dances, straddling them in their chair, brushing their cheeks with his fingers, a wink that makes them melt.

Stripper! Satoru oils his toned, muscular body before each show until it's gleaming under the lights, hips undulating as he tossed that cowboy hat into the air, clad in assless chaps and a thin tie, with some black silk on his cock that shows his entire outline. And God was he packing, the other dancers of the review get the oohs and ahs, but he is always center stage and thrives in it, in the looks of everyone dying to bring him home.

Stripper! Satoru and his crew have an exclusive party tonight, for a bride to be - and she must be wealthy, because they're walking right into a mansion, dressed up as cops tonight, Satoru loves to put on a good show for these women, his white hair tucked under a police cap, as he rings the doorbell, which opens with what he assumes are the bride's friends. They're already giggling and rushing the men in, one pulls Gojo aside, whispering in his ear - 'please, make her smile tonight... she's really...' he doesn't need the rest of the answer when he sees your face, so lost and broken, and it makes him falter.

Stripper! Satoru has never seen a bride not giggling and excited, once or twice he absolutely saw them nervous or worried, some of them would want to sleep with him or the crew as their 'last night' of freedom, and most of them were usually fine giving it to them. Not Satoru however, although he has hooked up with his fair share of women, he does not sleep with brides to be, as much as they have tried, he does have a couple small boundaries and that is one.

Stripper! Satoru still gave them a good show, he still licked across their skin and let them touch his body, he put a smile on their faces, made them blush, he made them all soaking wet. But he's never encountered the sad eyes that meet his now, the nervous biting of your lower lip as you look around in utter confusion. Your friend sighs, tugging Satoru down now. 'Arranged marriage, and he's... fucking horrible. Please, help her forget for one night?' he sees now why they paid so much, it's clear your friends love you, as the lights turn off and the LEDs turn on, your face is illuminated with red light, haunting him as he almost forgets the routine.

Stripper! Satoru and the crew begin to 'pretend' to arrest you and the girls, fake handcuffs on their wrists while the men press the girls down on the chairs, beginning their 'pat down'. But as Satoru approaches you, and touches your skin with the toy, fake metal of the cuffs, you just sigh, making him pause. The music continues, but he instead gently presses you on the seat, getting on his knees now, as your eyes drink the prettiest man you've seen once he takes off those dark shades. Your breath catches when he gently brushes your hair off your shoulder, and asks - 'Are you even okay with this, sweetheart?'

Stripper! Satoru doesn't realize, you've never been asked if you're okay with anything, your whole life was just made so you can marry the leader of the Zenin clan, so that you were a pristine, perfect and untouched wife. You take a shaky breath, easing in his presence, finally having someone ask if you were okay was something you didn't even have growing up. To come from a stripper dressed like a cop was surprising, but you instantly relax, thighs spreading just a bit, which his insane blue eyes dart to. 'I'm sorry, yes, I want to, please...'

Stripper! Satoru has never felt whatever the fuck it was when he touches your skin, the sensations shooting through him, he watches goosebumps rise on your skin when his crew grabs his attention. He smiles, looking at you once more. 'I'll give you the funnest night, I promise' you giggle, you don't think you've ever giggled, nodding as he steps back, and the men play that music and rip off the fake outfits bit by bit. That's when your tummy clenches, heat pooling, watching Satoru's body revealed as he rolls his hips, and your friends all smile at you, seeing you actually happy for the first time since you heard the wedding was impending.

Stripper! Satoru is insanely talented, not just his ripped, perfect body, but how he moves it, so clearly the leader of them all, surely they all had gorgeous bodies, but something about him drew your avid attention. You get flustered and shift as you study his movements, and his eyes just won't leave yours, they kept glancing at you, a smile on plump lips while they all strip down, and then step close to each of you, you're the only one without the cuffs, they sit on your lap instead. Satoru braces his arms on either side of you, breath trailing across your neck when he dances between your thighs, abs flexing right in front of your face. Your breath dances on his skin as you nervously exhale, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

Stripper! Satoru runs the most famous male revue for a reason, he's about as charming and confident as it gets, it's enigmatic his pull, but mostly you keep looking at those eyes, getting lost in them - for a moment forgetting your wedding to Naoya tomorrow - a man you've known bits and pieces of for a long time, long enough to be terrified of him. For a moment you let go and smile nervously, you touch his slick muscles when he puts your fingers on his chest, and the laughter carries through the room. As their set ends, an entire party begins, with shots everywhere and dancing, you see your friends stealing little kisses, envying their freedom, but the blue eyed man with slicked back white hair seems to focus on you, taking your hand and bringing you into a dance then. You giggle again, shaking your head. 'I can't dance... what's your name? The real one, not the stage name' you say, looking up at him then, and he tugs you closer against him. 'It's Satoru'

Stripper! Satoru uses a stage name, but for some reason he wants you to have that name, a hand sliding down your body over your pretty white dress, addling his mind. 'Anyone can dance, you've just never tried, sweetheart' you shake your head again, but he's already moving your hips for you, turning you so that your back presses against him, and that's when he feels it, your sweet body against his making him ache in ways he hasn't in a long time. 'See, you're dancing now' you lean back against him, shutting your eyes then, just feeling him. 'My friend set you up to cheer me up, huh?' he sighs against your ear, aching to press a kiss against your neck, but knowing he shouldn't. 'You do have good friends, but I just like dancing with you'

Stripper! Satoru has you downing another shot, the atmosphere is intense- these parties get this way, frequently, another perk of being the most famous male revue was endless beautiful women, and making bank on top of it. Satoru notices the dilation of your eyes when you take one more shot, licking your lips before peering around so shyly. 'Everything okay, these parties get a little...' he's asking about you again, the mere thoughtfulness pushes you to step forward, pulling him down by the black bow tie he's got on, nothing else but a black speedo at this point, revealing the body carved out like a statue, but he lets you yank him down, eyes lowering to your lips. 'If I could, have a kiss, a real one before I... don't get a choice anymore' your whisper ends him, his heart breaking for a girl he doesn't know, even in a haze of liquor and undulating bodies, everything fades but you.

Stripper! Satoru can't help but ask in surprise - 'you've never kissed?' and you see the surprise in his eyes, you look around, the music still blaring, overwhelming your senses. 'No, never, um... I shouldn't-' Satoru breaks his own rule then, slamming his lips down on yours, your first kiss, one you will think upon when it's just that cruel man looking down at you instead. You gasp against his lips, inviting his tongue to dance inside your mouth, yours dances along his, messy and clumsy but following every movement like a dance itself. He feels it then, his cock throbbing from a kiss, you don't seem to notice or maybe don't even want to say something as it presses high up on your tummy, while his hands slip up your body, for all eyes to see. But your friends clearly are pleased- they wanted you to have one night of fun, even if it wasn't what you were 'supposed' to do.

Stripper! Satoru has you against a wall before you can blink, like a switch went off in his mind and all that turns on is you. His hands are on either side of you when he pulls back, taking a breath, cursing softly, your breasts are rising and falling as you look up at him, desire for the first time in your life overtaking you. 'Thank you, Satoru' you smile sadly, was it better to not kiss at all than to have this? 'Is it that bad, the guy?' he murmurs then, and you look down, trembling just a bit, and his instinct is to protect you when he doesn't even know you. Satoru is protective of those he loves, but this feeling makes no sense. Tears fill your eyes and you sniffle, looking away, but he tilts your chin up, swiping one off with a thumb now. 'Thank you for tonight, I see why you're so popular...' he tries to smirk then, raising a brow. 'Because I'm so sexy?' you giggle even through your tears, you've never laughed so much in your life, shaking your head, making him pout. 'You're kinda mean, you're saying I'm not?'

Stripper! Satoru is trying to tease it off, the feelings throbbing though his body, but you're too much when you say - 'no, it's because you're really something special' another tear falls despite tremulous lips, swollen from his kiss, he feels the eyes on him, this isn't what he does, never ever the bride, but it's like he can't drag himself away from your gravity. Kissing you again is too easy, lifting you like it's nothing is even easier, the way you cling to him and lose yourself as the two of you are now locked in a room is even easier. Your dress slips up your hips with a silky whisper, his big hands gripping your hips and dragging you against him, you whine out as you feel it, the sweat dripping against your skin while he barely holds it together, ignoring the fact that he knows better, forgetting that you're not his, and how badly that for some reason feels to him, while he's got your back on a bed, kissing down your breasts and tugging at your dress now.

Stripper! Satoru has his mouth devouring every pretty inch of skin you allow him to, hot and hungry while you melt under him, clothes dissolving with gentle tugs, baring you to his vision, his fingers dance across your skin like you're a canvas and they're delicate paint brushes at first, then they're more insistent, more pressure, hungrier and hungrier for you. 'Fuck, you're beautiful...' he doesn't say that either, of course he compliments, but he's never seen someone earn that title quite like you, when he frees your breasts and they gently bounce from your bra, when your nipples perk up just for his mouth to suck on. When your hands entwine in his silky white hair, and he's pulling one into his mouth, while the other hand twists your other bud taut, and your cunt starts drooling, throbbing, one that's never been touched, even by yourself. Sheltered and taught it's all terrible, your friends had shown you some things but you're mostly lost to anything Satoru is doing, just lost in how good it all feels.

Stripper! Satoru pauses for a moment, as he's licking a trail between your breasts, eyeing you under snowy lashes, watching as you breasts rise and fall. 'We should stop now, before... I can't stop' his husky declaration is filled with need, your hand rushes through his hair, taking a shaky breath and whispering - 'would you be my first?' he pulls back, terrified at the statement, his mouth wide open, he knows it's too far to do, his morals grey enough, just hovering. 'He's cruel and he's... awful to women, it won't be happy for me. I just want once, to be my choice...' Satoru swallows nervously, lifting one of your thighs now, pressing his cock against your heat, watching your head fall back. 'You're really stuck in this? there's no way to get out of it?' you shake your head, trying to focus as your body responds to him. 'N-no, there's no way, y-you don't have to just I-' he moans then, internally cursing himself, because he's already intoxicated off you. 'Your choice' he repeats softly, you nod quickly, taking shaky breaths and gripping his shoulders. 'My choice'

Stripper! Satoru has his long pink tongue slipping across your panties, hot and wet against your cunt, the material pressed tighter and tighter, you're whining out, uncaring of any noise you make, the first time any one has touched you and it's with his mouth. Satoru moans against you, vibrations making your cunt throb when he yanks your panties to the side, baring your perfect, pretty pussy to his hungry gaze, glistening already with your slick. You cry out now, hips raising up for more, when he places a lewd kiss on it, honeyed arousal pouring from your little hole. You should be more nervous right? Afraid of a stranger seeing you? But you're not, you're so ready the moment his mouth latches you're screaming out, hips bucking, whining out at how good it feels.

Stripper! Satoru loses it once he tastes you, those panties slipped down your thighs, torn between leisurely teasing you and straight up devouring you. He opts for the latter, slipping panties down your thighs and gripping you by the fat of your ass, bringing your cunt flush so he can bury himself. He drowns in your cunt as his tongue lavished your walls, while you are rolling your eyes back, breaths coming in little pants while he licks every part of you, tastebuds soaking in your flavor. He has you falling apart under him in moments, your gummy little walls gripping his wet muscle, feeling you tremble underneath him as your first orgasm rocks you so hard you can't see.

Stripper! Satoru presses one more kiss, leaning over you and slipping down that thin satin layer between you, revealing a thick, long cock, you gasp when you see how huge it is, for one moment wondering how it would fit, when he kisses you so messy and desperate, hot heavy cock slapping your skin. 'Satoru!' Your cry makes him leak precum against your inner thigh, as he looks down at you, sighing. 'Are you sure, sweets? We can stop here' again, he gives you the choice, despite speaking through gritted teeth, as if he's in pain, holding his breath and just watching you. You shock him then, hand sliding down to touch his cock, a featherlight brush that almost makes him cum, eyes meeting his now. 'I want it, please'

Stripper! Satoru isn't going to turn down your sweet plea, your desperate ask under him, asking him to take something so special, but he understands you, he knows you need to have a choice without even knowing you. He kisses you then, more intimate in moments than he has been with women before ever. His cock teases and dips against your soppy little hole then, pressing slightly and feeling your tight resistance, moaning as he does. 'It will hurt just a sec, okay sweetheart?' You nod then, and the pain hits, sharp and sweet and addictive, he pauses, letting you adjust, trying not to bust from how fucking right you feel, how perfect. Instead he holds back, watching you with bright blue eyes. 'You okay honey?' - and making you relax under him, the burn and stretch mixing with pleasure the further he presses, nodding eagerly, dragging him back down for a kiss, which he whimpers into as he thrusts inside.

Stripper! Satoru hardly holds back, knowing it's your first time, shaking with the effort not to fold you in a mating press and fuck you to the hilt like he wants. 'Perfect, fuck you feel s'good, mnh...' he's muttering those words as he pulls back and thrusts further, stretching you out impossibly, she's soaking down his veiny length to accommodate, while she pulses from her aftershocks, and you feel that fullness, you're so full. Satoru shoves in harder, deeper, seeing what you can take, your head falls to the side to be littered with kisses, careful not to mark you, though God he wants to, to bite and bruise every inch of skin with his teeth. He wants to leave bruises on your hips, fill you with so much cum you drip him when that man comes near you - but he knows that's fucking stupid.

Stripper! Satoru is pussy drunk so fast, as you open for him, as you loosen your hold, arching your hips up to meet his thrusts, unleashed as you scratch his back, leaving your marks, marks he'll wish will never leave in the coming days. You kiss across his neck, teeth sinking into it and leaving your bite, as he bottoms out in your perfect cunt, the echoes of the squelching wetness and your cries mixing with the smacking of skin, as he loses his control, and you fall off the edge with him. Moans and sighs, gasps and cries, all while he's filling you over and over, bringing you closer to the brink, losing anything and everything all under his long, lithe body, the shadows casting and stretching across the wall, of him over you, of your thighs wrapped around his narrow waist.

Stripper! Satoru has never felt anything like you gripping him, never tasted anything like that honey lingering on his lips, fucking you and dragging his tip on your spot just so, until you shatter, cumming blindingly, crying out his name as you do. He quiets you with a kiss, your cunt spasming around his cock and gushing down further, making a mess of the bed, of him, of you. You're blinking back your vision as you gasp and he leans up, dragging you all the way down his length, his whine so sexy while his head falls back, veins in his arms bulging as he grips you so tight, watching the bulge in your tummy as he slowly moves in and out. 'cum once more, please, wanna feel her again' his whisper is met with a jerky nod, when he finds your clit with the pad of his thumb, running in circles and shoving in so deep he slams your cervix.

Stripper! Satoru watches the pretty bride - not his, how are you not his? - cum for him then, thighs shaking, your head falling back into the soft pillows, and he's done for, leaning forward to pump a few more times, fucking you through that orgasm, before he pulls out with a gasp, wishing he could finish in you, instead pumping that cum on your tummy, white networks of ropes decorating it as it moves up and down with your heavy breaths. You start to come to, when he's cleaning you up, when he's wiping the soreness between your thighs, when he's holding you and kissing you. You feel the emotions hit, the overwhelming pleasure can't override this one singular feeling - dread - and moreso now that you felt this, that you know what it is, to feel so perfect and cherished by a stranger.

Stripper! Satoru panics when you cry, 'was it too much, are you hurt sweetheart or-' you shake your head, hugging him to you tightly, sweet kisses on his neck and cheek then. 'No, it was perfect, so perfect Satoru. Thank you' you shouldn't be thanking him, he musees to himself, letting you kiss him as the knocks finally sound on the door. He gently helps you get dressed, the party is clearly still going on but your friend wanted to check on you, to see your disheveled state she just smiles, rushing off and apologizing, but your skin is decorated in your blush, and he sees it, the fear in your gaze. 'Am I horrible?' he shakes his head then, kissing you again. 'No, you're perfect' and it just leads to more, he can't stop kissing your skin, he can't stop fucking into you, each time hurting less and just feeling better, letting you ride him tentatively, holding you from behind as he fucks you, until the two of you fall asleep, against each other.

Stripper! Satoru overslept clearly, as you're all ready to leave - for a wedding to a monster - and most of the men are hungover, sipping coffee and ready to go home. When he does get dressed in the normal clothes he brought with, you hold his hand, looking down and swallowing, not knowing what to say - that you think in one night you fell for a man - that you'll never be available. It sounds too cruel to say to someone, when there's no future, so instead you hug him tightly, and he holds you against him, trying to hold back everything he wants to say and do. 'Are you gonna be okay?' he asks softly before he leaves, and you smile as brightly as you can, nodding. 'I will be. Thank you for... everything.' one more sweet kiss, and Satoru has to let your hand go, knowing he will never have you again eats at him and he was just inside you, he can't even speak or answer a question, all he can think of is you.

Stripper! Satoru seems like a fantasy, as you walk down the aisle, seeing the bored and cruel gaze staring right at you, dark brown eyes with murderous intent, a nasty smirk as he assessed you. Tousled blond hair, he looks instead at a few of the women sitting in the benches waiting, winking at them instead, before turning back and setting his jaw. When you stand in front of him he yanks back your veil, eyes narrowing and humming to himself. 'Suppose you'll do' he says then, leaving you to feel sick as he grips your wrist, unceremoniously putting a glittery ring on it. 'that hurts...' you whisper weakly, and he squeezes harder, glaring now. 'Keep your mouth shut, little bitch, got it? you're my property now' you sink back, knowing then, the pit in your stomach had been correct, the rumors must be true- he is horrible.

As you sit through the ceremony, as your friends try to comfort you are sent home, as your entire world crumbles and ends, you try to cling to the memory of feeling special, beautiful, you feel his touch, you feel his caress - his gaze. You cling to it as your eyes fill with tears, as your stomach fills with nausea, as he's yanking you onto his lap and laughing cruelly at you. You think of him...

Satoru

Soooo yes this will be a long one, and dw it will end happy somehow! Comment for tags of you're interested in their story <3

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[homeofthelonelywriter]

When Simon kissed you goodbye and watched you excitedly rush to your friend’s car, he already knew that at some point that evening, he’d get a call from a fairly drunk you. What he didn’t expect though, was for that call to come from inside the police station.

“Simon? Simon, can you hear-,” your drunken giggles interrupted you. “me?” Little did you know that when he heard the typical “This is a call from xy police station. Do you accept the call?”, he had already put on his shoes and collected his car keys, rushing out of the house and to his truck.

“I can hear you love.” Your still joyful demeanor reassured him, but he still worried. “Are you okay? What happened?” In the background, he could hear the voices of you girlfriends, who sounded just as smashed as you. Another one of your giggles sounded through the phone, as you lowered your voice, trying to whisper, but it was pretty obvious that you were still loud enough to be heard. “I think-,” this time it was a hiccup that interrupted you. “-I think I did something bad.” Usually, Simon’s mind would immediately go to worst-case scenario, but you still sounded happy, so he managed to stay calm. Instead of panicking, he started the car and put you on speaker, pulling out of the driveway to make his way to the police station.

“I’ll be there in five, pretty. Can you wait for me?” You sighed happily, and he could almost picture you leaning against the wall and twirling your hair. “Oh Si, I’d wait forever for you.” He chuckled, and signed off with a quick ‘I love you’, before hanging up. Three minutes later, he walked into the brightly lit building and up to the front desk, seeing a familiar cop. As soon as Matt saw Simon, he just chuckled.

“Assumed she was yours. Kept talking about her big, scary boyfriend.” Simon chuckled as he shook his mate's hand. “How bad is it?” Matt shrugged and grabbed some keys leading Simon to the cells. “Just some public disturbance.” Simon nodded. “Charges?” “Nah. Mainly picked them up to keep them from getting into real trouble.”

The moment you saw Simon walking toward you, you squealed and thrust your arms through the bars. “Siiiiiiimooooon!” The blonde could only roll his eyes with a smile as he watched you, impatiently waiting for Matt to open the door, before you rushed into your boyfriend’s arms. He pulled you in tightly, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. After a moment, you glanced up at him, a pout on your lips.

“What’s got you pouting, pretty?” You turned and glared at Matt. “He took my tequila.” Matt raised his hands with a grin, shrugging before waving you two to follow him. “Well, we got more tequila at home.” Again you squealed, overjoyed that your drunken evening wasn’t over just yet, but when Matt turned to look at Simon with a raised eyebrow, the blonde just mouthed back ‘water’. The cop nodded with a grin, handing you a form, which you quickly signed before he handed over your personal items and bid you a good night.

As soon as you left the building, you rushed out ahead, leading to Simon quickly catching up and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He stirred you to his truck and quickly buckled you in, before jumping in the driver’s seat and pulling away.

“So…what did you do?” He swatted at your hand as you tried to turn up the volume of the radio. You pouted again, before sitting up straight, raising your hand and grinning at him. “I plead the fifth!” Simon chuckled, glancing at you, before focusing back on the road. “You’re in Britain, love. There ain’t no fifth.” Immediately, you slouched back down, glaring at the road. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Before you knew it, Simon pulled into the driveway and helped you out of the car before gently leading you inside. You immediately tried to rush to the alcohol cabinet, but before you could, Simon pushed you to the bedroom. “But my tequilaaaa.” He pushed you until you sat down on the bed. “You change into your pjs and I’ll get you some tequila, okay?” You grinned and nodded, and Simon left the room, quickly filling a glass with water. On his way back, he picked up a bucket and some pain meds, planning to leave them on your nightstand.

But when he entered the bedroom again, he found you, half changed, and asleep. Still smiling, he sighed before putting everything down on your side of the bed. As gently as he could, he quickly changed you and wiped off your makeup, making sure you were as comfortable as possible, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep tight, love.”

A/N: Definitely did not write this while listening to "Plead the fifth" by Cooper Alan. I love that song.

[selfcarecap]

Halloween [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x neighbour!reader

summary: You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral, unprotected (but inconsequential) p in v, creampie, doggy in front of a mirror, missionary, cum eating and also Logan spitting it into reader’s mouth, brief chasing kink, (Ghostface) mask kink obv, pet names: bub, baby, good girl), worst!Logan I guess but I couldn’t find a pic to use, Wade being Wade 

word count: 3.8k

note: I didn’t have that much time to write this but I wanted to post something for Logan before Halloween so <3, inspired by that I want to be fucked for Halloween sound on tt lol you'll see what I mean, and some ideas me and @ethanhoewke talked about 🤭, also I’ve never watched Scream so all I can do is mention the mask lol | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia <3

You meet your neighbours Logan and Wade in the laundry room of your building on Thursday night. They’re fighting over whether they’re going to do a couple’s costume for Wade’s Halloween party next week. 

“We’re not a couple, Wade. We’re not doing a couple’s costume.”

Wade sighs as he stuffs his blood splattered clothes into the washing machine – you’ve learnt not to ask anymore. 

“Hey,” Logan says when he sees you, and those three letters are enough to make your cheeks heat up. You wave at them both, busying yourself with your own washing. 

Wade puts his hand on his hip, “Can you believe Logie won’t do a couple’s costume with me after I adopted him and put a roof over his head? He’s such an ungrateful brat.”

You giggle, meeting Logan’s gaze as he rolls his eyes at his roommate. He turns away to let you do your laundry in peace but Wade walks over to you, sitting down on the bench behind you. 

“What do you want to be for Halloween? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Sexy cop?”

You laugh, “Why do they all have to be sexy?”

“Because it’s you, so it’s impossible for the costume to not be sexy,” Wade raises his eyebrows and you smile at the compliment, sitting down next to him. 

You sigh as you think about his question. 

“Fucked, Wade. I want to be fucked for Halloween.”

You hear a chuckle from Logan a few feet away. You were hoping he wasn’t listening, but he does you the favour of keeping his head turnt in the other direction as he sorts through laundry. You’re closer with Wade – you didn’t necessarily want Logan knowing how badly you need to get laid. 

Wade points to his own chest, “Wait, by moi?”

“I love you but I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like a burnt chicken nugget.”

“You know what? Even though I look like a burnt chicken nugget, I still love myself. Learned that from the OG.”

You smile, “And anyway, I thought you and Vanessa were back together?”

“That we are,” Wade says, rising to his feet and twirling out of the room like a ballerina, calling out, “I’ll see you later for movie night!” 

“He’s fucking crazy,” Logan says, chuckling, and you smile as you finish doing your laundry. 

-

You’re late to Wade’s Halloween party the following week. You rush two floors up to their shared apartment, but your knocks go unnoticed through the loud music coming from inside and the door won’t open. 

You’re about to get your phone out to call Wade but you realise you can’t. Your fake claws are in the way. 

You’re dressed up as Logan. You recently saw some pictures of when he was younger, effortlessly hot in a tanktop and jeans, hair styled charmingly, almost like kitty ears. 

Accordingly, you’ve got yourself a fitted tanktop, jeans that make you stop in front of every mirror to admire your backside, and a belt with a big buckle like the ones he used to wear. You’ve paired your outfit with kitty ears the colour of your hair and, of course, fake claws protruding between your fingers. 

You hope Logan doesn’t take offence. In your rush to get ready for the party, you didn’t even consider that. 

What if he doesn’t like your costume? What if he thinks it’s disrespectful? You know he’s struggled with his mutation, after all, hurt people he loved because of it. Wade told you the costume was a good idea when you showed him your outfit the other day, but Wade isn’t Logan. 

Plus, it’s Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary, even if most people’s costumes aren’t scary nowadays. What if Logan thinks you’re calling him a scary monster? Oh god. You’re considering going downstairs and changing – into what, you don’t know, but the last thing you want is to offend Logan, and if there’s even just a small chance of it then you don’t want to do it after all. Suddenly, you see Logan.  

He’s walking down the hallway where you’ve zoned out, arms folded awkwardly because of your claws. He stops in his tracks, a plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand, and he’s squinting at you; you wouldn’t say he looks mad but you’re not sure. 

Logan comes closer, folding his arms. “Are you supposed to be me?” 

A smile creeps on his face as you tentatively answer with a “…yeah?”

He looks you up and down and it makes your skin heat up as he takes a step forward, “Not sure if I should be offended, bub.”

Oh no–

He continues with a smirk, “Going around stealin’ a man’s look and doing it better than him? Can’t say that outfit used to look that good on me.” You sigh a breath of relief. He likes it. You smile at his compliment, and then he’s reaching out to give a light tug on the cat ears in your hair. 

“I don’t get what these are supposed to be though.”

You push the plastic hair band back in place as you smile up at him, “You know exactly what they are.”

Logan shrugs. “You got something wrong though.”

He stands next to you with the side of his arm pressed against yours, and you gulp at the sudden contact with his warm, beefy arm. Logan makes a fist and unsheathes his claws, holding them next to yours, and they’re at least three times the length of your fake ones, metal sparkling even in the shitty light of the corridor. 

“Should be much bigger,” he smirks, pulling them back in and unlocking the door for you. You don’t miss the implication behind his words, and you swallow as you step into the loud party in their apartment that is decorated to the nines for Halloween. 

Wade runs over to you to hug you, wearing a sexy maid costume over his Deadpool suit. 

“I love it,” you tell him while he simultaneously compliments your outfit. You look around for Logan and only just catch him closing the door to his bedroom, and he disappears behind it. You were too distracted just now to realise that he wasn’t even wearing a costume. 

Your shoulders deflate as you realise he’s probably not coming back out. He was half of the reason you even came to the party. You were looking forward to spending some time with him, but now that you think about it, you wouldn’t expect him to be interested in a Halloween party, crafting an elaborate costume and hanging up corny decorations the way Wade did. 

You try to shake off your disappointment and enjoy yourself nevertheless. 

-

You’re stumbling back to the kitchen after dancing with Wade and Vanessa, getting yourself a drink. You’re softly humming to the music coming from the other room when you feel a presence behind you. 

Your heart speeds up for a moment when you see someone in a Ghostface mask standing right beside you. He’s wearing the mask with a black, tight tanktop stretched over his broad chest. You smell Logan’s cologne as the scent swirls in the air around you, but you could have recognised him by the veins on his arms alone.  

You try to keep your hopes at bay but you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing the mask because of you. When you watched Scream with him and Wade the other night, Wade kept teasing you about your crush on the killer. 

At the time you felt like disappearing, hoping that Logan was as disinterested as he claimed, that he wasn’t listening to anything you two were saying, but now you’re glad he heard. If he’s wearing the costume for your sake. Which he probably isn’t. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your crush is unrequited, just to protect yourself. It’s a common Halloween costume, nothing to do with you… probably. 

“Hi,” Logan says. You can’t see his face but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Hey…,” you reply, almost shakily, “didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to, couldn’t be bothered to think of a costume. But then I found this so I thought I’ll join you.”

You nod along as he tells you about going out to buy the mask only today, but you’re not paying attention. All you can focus on is how hot it is that you can’t see Logan’s face through the mask, but you still know it’s him. The way his voice is slightly muffled yet strong makes you shudder. 

“So, has your wish for Halloween come true yet?”

You give him a confused smile, only just realising that he’s asking you something.

“You told Wade you wanted to get fucked for Halloween.”

Not able to stop a shy grin from spreading over your face, you say, “Oh. No, hasn’t happened yet. Not counting on it.” 

“No one you like here?” Logan asks, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, trying to think of a flirty reply when Wade’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. 

Wade runs over to Logan, leaning his head to the side flirtily, “I told you it’d look hot, peanut. Are you gonna hunt me later, Mr. Ghostface?” Wade brings a finger to his lip, and, for once, Logan doesn’t get annoyed by his jokes.

“Ghostface only hunts good girls,” Logan says, and your heart starts to beat faster yet again when you realise Logan is looking down at you.

“Am I not a good girl?” Wade asks, and Logan just huffs, ignoring him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel them on you. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

It’s not much later that Logan is chasing you through the hallways of your building, with you giggling and squealing only a few feet ahead of him as the adrenaline pumps through you. 

He gave you a headstart but you know he’ll catch you. You want him to catch you. You’re fumbling with the keys to your apartment when he reaches you, your heart hammering in your chest at the thrill of being chased. 

Logan’s hands go to your waist as he pushes you against your front door. 

“I got you.”

You reach up to gently tug the mask off but he stops you when only his lips are exposed, and he grins. You smile and lean up to kiss him, and you somehow manage to fit your key into the lock while you’re making out and push the door open. 

Logan lifts you and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he carries you to your bedroom. 

With your claws and the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor minutes later, Logan is fucking you in front of the mirror by your bed. He’s taking you from behind, mask still on as he pulls and pushes at your hips with you fucking back against him as the mattress dips beneath you. 

But as hot as it is to see the Ghostface mask looking down at you through the mirror, it’s also your first time having sex with Logan and you want to see him.

“Can I take the mask off?” you ask, looking back at him and Logan lifts you so that your back is flush with his chest. You turn around and pull the mask off over his head with a smile.

His hair is messy and a little bit sweaty, and as good as Logan usually looks you don’t think you’ve ever been quite this attracted to him. He holds your face to press a few sloppy kisses to your lips, and then he turns you back around to face the mirror.

Logan doesn’t push you back on all fours, but takes your arms and clasps them behind your back, holding them together with one big hand. He slides his cock back into your wet pussy and begins to rub your clit with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he nods towards the mirror, and you meet his eyes in it, watching as his gaze trails down your body, to where his hand disappears between your soft thighs, “So fucking pretty.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to play with your pussy, but he can’t properly fuck you at this angle, so you buck back against him until he manoeuvres you onto your back.

His lips find yours again and your arm sneaks around the back of his neck, holding him close as you kiss him desperately. You whine when his lips leave yours. He kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, down over your tits and over your belly. He arrives between your legs with a smirk and licks through the wetness of your pussy.

He moans when he first makes contact, “tastes even better than I fucking imagined, baby.”

You smile down at Logan as he pulls your socked feet onto his shoulders, fingers grabbing your ankles. “You’ve imagined this?”

Logan looks up at you, “Every single fucking day. You haven’t?”

You smile bashfully despite his own admission, but he doesn’t let you answer anyway, moving his head back between your legs to make out with your pussy. He pushes two fingers inside you, the tips of his fingers rubbing up against your g-spot.

You begin to squirm as the heat builds up in your lower stomach, but Logan holds your hips down with his muscular forearm over your waist, “Stay still for me, baby, okay?”

Logan starts sucking on your clit, and you cum immediately, back arching as you grab onto his hair. Your pussy pulses and throbs around his fingers as pleasure floods your body. You grind up to meet his mouth and he lets you use him until you’re breathless.

He places a last, rough kiss on your pussy, getting back on his knees to fuck you, but you breathe out, “Give me a second.” You smile shyly, your pussy still squeezing around nothing every few seconds.

“Of course, bub.” He leans down to kiss you and you mumble a question against his lips.

“Can I go down on you?”

Logan smiles and sits up, “Me or…?” he nods over to the mask. 

You shrug shyly, “Well, if you’re offering.”

“Why do you think I wore it?” Logan smirks, pulling the mask back on. You briefly pull it up to his forehead again to give him a small kiss of appreciation.

He holds your hand as you get off the bed, sinking down onto the carpeted floor. You smile as his hard cock bobs in front of your face, glistening with precum and your wetness.

You place your hands on his knees and softly trace a path down his cock with your tongue, gently sucking his balls as you look up. A thrill shoots through you when you only see the mask looking back at you, and you move to suck Logan’s dick into your mouth as deep as you can, tasting your own arousal on him.

He throbs hotly against your tongue as you let spit run down his length, slapping his cock against your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Logan’s voice sounds from above you, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, as you take his cock in your mouth again, your hands back on his knees for support.

You make out with the head of his cock, gently sucking on the skin down the side of him, licking your way up, playing with him.

“I’m close, baby,” he moans.

You mumble against his skin, telling him to take off the mask, and even though it comes out muffled he hears. Logan tugs off the mask in one quick movement, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure and his lips bitten raw. His face glows with desire and a hint of sweat, and he hums when you suck him into your mouth.

You use your hand to jerk off the rest of him, moving your mouth down on him as far as you can, and your eyes flutter shut when you hear Logan moan, and he’s spilling the first ropes of his load down your throat. You keep sucking until you’ve swallowed all of his cum, and only then do you take your mouth off him.

Sitting back, suddenly shy, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand but Logan’s already tugging you up to the bed to kiss you.

“You got another orgasm in you?” he asks against your lips. You straddle him and feel his hard cock smack against your thigh as you tell him yes. He tips you onto your back, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your pussy.

When he gets between your legs and pushes his cock into you again it somehow feels even better than the first time as you gasp in pleasure.

“You’re so warm, bub. So perfect. Wanna stay here forever,” Logan says mindlessly as he bottoms out, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you inside me forever too,” you babble, already fucked out. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you. It feels like your wet pussy is sucking him in with the way you clech around him, and you both know you won’t take long for your next orgasms.

He slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to fucks you deeper. “You gonna cum for me again, bub? You make such a cute face when you cum. Let me see it again, baby.”

You’re nodding dumbly and letting the feeling of him take over, not just his big cock in your pussy and his slicked fingers on your clit, but the way his body feels on top of yours, warm skin against warm skin as he sloppily kisses your jaw and neck, and you cream around his cock as you cum, moaning his name.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well. Taking my big cock like a good girl, hm?” Logan’s voice is strained, and then he’s cumming too, filling you up with his warm release until your pussy is stuffed full with his cock and his cum. He pulls out slowly and rubs your sensitive clit a little more.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, fucking two fingers into you and when he pulls them out they’re coated in his sticky load.

You reach out to pull him down by his wrist and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking his cum off them as he smirks down at you, rubbing a hand over his face to calm himself for now.

You both come down from your highs with laboured breaths, and he pulls you to lie your head on the pillow. Logan wraps his arms around you, just cuddling you for a bit, when you realise something and smile up at him.

“So, are you that narcissistic that seeing me dressed up as you made you want to fuck me?” 

Logan smirks. “Nah, wanted to fuck you way before that. And I’m just honoured you like me enough to dress up as me.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal but he instead takes that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth as he holds the side of your face. You make out lazily for another few moments, slinging your leg over his hip, but then you drag his hand away from your face.

“Well, I’m honoured you like me enough to dress up for me.” 

“Baby, there’s a lot more I’d do for you than just dress up in a horror mask.”

“Really?” you smile. Logan nods earnestly. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes as you relax into the comfortable silence.

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “Will you go out with me?”

You giggle then, “Don’t think you have to ask me anymore.”

“What? I wanna be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, very gentlemanly what you just did to me.”

You feel some of Logan’s cum drip out of your pussy and onto his thigh in that moment.

Logan looks at you and gives you a silly smile, lifting your leg off him to sit up, “Yeah, baby, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman cleans up after himself.”

He spreads your thighs as he gets between them, and licks up your pussy, coating his tongue in his own cum. You smile at his words but soon you begin to pout in pleasure as he starts going down on you again.

You sigh when he stops and moves up to your face, but you smile when you realise what he’s doing, happily parting your lips for him. Logan leans over you and spits his cum into your mouth, “We taste good together, hm?” he asks.

You swallow your combined arousals eagerly, closing your eyes as you savour the taste, but a gentle pat on your clit makes you open them again.

“You got another one in you, right, baby? Just one.” You nod quickly, unable to form words with you needily spread open for Logan like this. 

Lying back, you let Logan eat your pussy until you’re cumming again, your thighs pressing against his temples as he grabs at the flesh of your legs, licking your clit until you’re satisfied.

Logan lies back down next to you with his lips still shiny with your wetness, and you lean in for another kiss. He takes you in his arms to cuddle, when he asks you again.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

“Only if it ends with you doing that thing with your mouth again,” you tease.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going a day without it anymore.”

You giggle into his neck, relaxing against his muscular body.

Logan turns around when he gets a text, showing you his phone. It’s a message from Wade:

Everyone left and I’m about to give Vanessa a happy Halloweener if you know what I’m saying! So don’t come home tonight but I have a feeling you weren’t going to anyway ;)

Logan cringes while you laugh, ready to put his phone back when another message comes through.

And if you don’t treat her right I’ll cut off your Halloweener

Logan groans, switching off his phone. You laugh against his skin and let him hold you until you both sink into a warm, cozy sleep.

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🤭🙂‍↕️

[kairospy]

AU:

Neil doesn’t meet the foxes, he’s instead caught by the FBI

He helps them catch his father and bring down his empire.

One day he’s brought in to Andrew’s lecture as a guest speaker

The Q&A at the end:

Student: Have you ever killed someone?

Neil: There’s two FBI agents at the door who advised me against answering that specific question. There’s your answer.

Student: What’s the best way to get fake documents?

Neil: I’m legally required to say “don’t”.

Student: What’s the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?

Neil: See, that’s a trick question, because if I answer it becomes the most illegal thing I’ve admitted to.

Student: What’s the hardest lie youve ever had to tell?

Neil: “Sure, I’d love to do a Q&A with a bunch of people who are weirdly obsessed with my father and decided to study crimes because they don’t have the balls to commit them.”

Student: Are you afraid your father’s people will come after you?

Neil *at the end of his fucking rope*: No, I feel completely safe. That’s why I’ve got armed federal agents waiting outside.

Student: How’d you get caught?

Neil: First of all, rude. Second, the FBI made a very compelling argument

Student: …which one

Neil: “cooperate or find out exactly how many laws you’ve broken” - said by a guy holding a very thick file. Direct. Effective. Hard to argue while zip-tied to a chair.

Student: What’s something you miss about your old life?

Neil: being able to leave a room without seven cops and a judge asking where I’m going.

Student: If you could do it all over again, would you?

Neil: I’d rather set myself on fire. I know you don’t understand that reference, but trust me when I say it’s funny.

Student: how many identities have you had?

Neil: Simultaneously or in total?

Student: …total?

Neil: enough that I had to check my ID before answering roll call

Student: what’s the worst crime you’ve ever committed?

Neil: do you want me to answer this as Neil Josten or Nathaniel Wesninski? The distinction matters.

Student: Have you ever made someone disappear?

Neil *looking over his shoulder at Browning*: goodness gracious no

Student: How many languages do you speak?

Neil: enough to talk my way out of things… mostly into them, though

Student: Why did you agree to talk to us?

Neil: it was this or community service

He’s as unhelpful as possible.

His entire goal is to waste everyone’s time while making it just interesting enough that no one can call him out on it.

And Andrew? He’s watching. He’s enthralled. He’s interested, and isn’t that odd.

The professor looks like she regrets her entire career. Half the class is too stunned to speak. Browning is wondering if the punishment for beating up the most valuable witness the FBI has in custody would be worth it. (It would)

Anyway long story short. 5 minutes in Andrew’s in love

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 dirty little secret ¡

pairing police officer!bfb!Jun-ho x brat!reader

summary Jun-ho catches you red handed, what other way to teach you a lesson than to take advantage of the situation and arrest you, then fuck the attitude out of you? 

warnings smut, unprotected p in v, public sex, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, praise & degradation, jun-ho putting you in handcuffs, car sex (against it), mention of reader briefly smoking

Someone like yourself should not accompany Jun-ho's head as one frequently does. Yet, there he was, leisurely stroking his hard cock, while reminiscing over the sheepish smile you flashed him earlier, one that shall be deemed innocent, not something he fantasizes about at the dim of midnight. 

He tried, he really did strive to keep a distance, avoid the proximity of your touch when your arm in the slightest bit brushes over his, constantly reminding himself that you were forbidden, someone he could merely admire from afar, as you were his best friend's little sister. 

Jun-ho oughts to respect his friend's wishes, aware how much he cared for you, never missing a chance to scold you whenever you'd engage in any malice acts. Jun-ho would sit back and watch, oddly entertained by your witty attitude, and the way your face would twist with venom, the action so attractive, he fought the urge to arrest you for it. 

It was a dirty, filthy fantasy, the desire to fuck you senseless while you desperately grind down on his cock, to put handcuffs on you and pound into you from behind, where he'd see your ass bounce with each thrust stretching your needy hole. However, all he could do was stroke himself and pretend it was your little fingers doing it instead, in hopes of it actually happening, well aware you were out of his league, way out of his orbit. 

That escalated, when he randomly spotted you in the middle of the woods while he was on duty. He frowned upon seeing you tangled in a bush, with a lit blunt firmly in between your lips. He hesitated over approaching you, doing it with haste, as he deliberately exited the car, afraid he was mistaking you for someone else, but no, it was you. 

He could recognize you from a mile away, not even the bush of weed covering the majority of your face could change that. The boy aimed the flashlight in your direction, halting before he muttered your name, causing you to freeze in your spot. 

The lighter in your hold drops to the floor, leaving you fisting nothing but your manicured fingernails as they dug into the flesh. Your blood ran cold, and you suddenly felt helpless, as a rush of embarrassment washed over you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, hoping this would be a dream, one of your stupid little thoughts, but no, it was really him; Jun-ho. Yeah, you're screwd. 

Why did he of all people have to see you like this; when you do idiotic stuff out of pure stress. You've been overwhelmed the whole day, uncapable of cheering up, till you randomly found a joint lying around in your drawer, leading to you tippy toeing out of the house, and heading towards your go-to place when you wanted to smoke. 

Typically, no cops hung around the area, but today, life had other plans for you, ones not so bad. 

"Is that you?" He continued his unfinished sentence from earlier, gaze shifting down to the joint you smushed to the floor. "What are you doing here?" 

"Jun-ho!" You squealed with fake excitement, stumbling as you stood to your feet. "What are you doing here?" 

"Jus' doing my job, an' you?" One of his brows curled with suspicion, hand finding the curve of his hip. "What's a girl like you doing out here? Aren't you afraid something might happen to you?" 

"A girl like me? C'mon, you think I can't handle myself?" you scoffed, tone hinted with sarcasm. You dusted the dirt off your skirt, leaning down with a purpose, in hopes of Jun-ho stealing a glance at your pink lace-panties, covering nothing, and exposing the shell of your ass. "Besides, you're the one who looks afraid."

"Yeah, obviously," he admitted with shame, stammering out of frustration. "What will your brother say when he knows you're out at such a late hour?" 

"Relax, old man, I'll be fine." You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Unless you decide to snitch on me..." 

That shoots blood through his veins, clenching his jaw over your attempt to get under his skin. He knows what you were doing, aware of your intentions to mess with him, and fool his already hazy brain into thinking your tone was flirtatious. 

"Get in the car," he demanded, dismissing you with his chin as he took a few steps in your direction, eyes narrowing when he took a whiff of the stiff air. "Were you smoking?" 

"No." You swiftly shook your head, though your tense expression gave the lie away. 

"Yes you were," he insists, directing the flashlight to your feet, and bending down when he spotted the freshly lit blunt now flattened to the floor. "Have you not learned your lesson? How many times did your brother tell you not to smoke? Marijuana, of all things."

"It's one time thing!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms up in the air. "Don't hold it against me, I was stressed. Now, please don't tell my brother, you know how he gets when he's angry." 

"You think I'll let you off easily?" He muttered, statement somewhat threatening. "I can arrest you for this, you know drugs are illegal, right?"

"But you won't," you tried to cut through the tension heaving the air, attempt falling short when it didn't crack a smile out of the latter. "You're not going to arrest me for that."

"Try me." He clicked his teeth, standing with his chest to your back. He hesitated to reach for your arm, fingers deliberately clutching around your wrist, forcing your forearm to the low of your back. 

Jun-ho repeated the action with your other hand, a breath knocking out of your chest when the sound of a click erupted through your ears, ringing as he locked the handcuffs in place, loose yet firm around your wrists. 

"Wait, you're being for real?" Your eyes widened with shock, an inaudible gasp escaping your throat when he led you towards the car, using the arm to your shoulder to push through the muddy road. "Get these off of me, this is not funny, Jun-ho!"

"Never said it was." He snorted, pinning you to the hood of the car, and fumbling through his pockets to seek the keys hidden in there. "You've been such a bad girl, need someone to do somethin' abour it." 

Your stomach churns with butterflies, somehow turned on by the statement. His tone, it was low, hushed, full of lust deep under all the lies he'd force through his teeth. 

Jun-ho is hot, you weren't one to deny that, however, your insides stirred with more than passing emotions that confuse you whole everytime he was around. Heat radiated off your entire body, the in between your legs specifically, and your knees went jelly, seizing control of your body once you leaned down, till your chest pressed to the hood of the car. 

The action earns a scowl out of the brunet, feigning oblivion to the way his cock twitched in his pants when his gaze landed on your lace panties, now peaking from underneath your skirt. The scene left little to the imagination, he wanted nothing more than to pull the thin fabric of your underwear to side, and pound into you till you no longer were able to coherent normal words out; only able to remember his name through your fuzzy, fucked out brains. 

"What are you doing?" He questioned, forcing his eyes back on your face, bent to the side as you tried to steal a glimpse at him from over your shoulder. 

"Obeying your orders," you mumbled, "I've been a bad girl, officer, need you to do something about it." 

You wiggled your ass around, till the material of your skirt rid up, revealing the plush flesh hidden underneath. The faint moonlight lightly beamed over the skin, creating a small shadow that would've gone unnoticed if Jun-ho's gaze wasn't burning into your soul. 

"Want me to do something about it?" He repeated through a breath, voice shaky, desperate like a loser getting his dick wet for the first time. "Fuck, you can't pull shit like this an' expect me to hold back." 

"Don't hold back." You whispered, lips gaping in a moan when his leg pressed to your heat, patience wearing thin as he resisted the urge to tear your panties apart. "You want this too, don't you?" 

"Quit talkin'," He grunted, hand instantly landing on your ass. He almost shuddered, squeezing the fatty skin in between his fingers, then using the pressure of the touch to spread your cheeks out, and fix his gaze on the thin fabric of your panties now drenched with your juices. "Fuck, look at you, such a wet mess for me. Is this turning you on, huh? You enjoy getting humiliated to filth?" 

You mewled at the words, almost yelping when his fingertips grazed over your clothed clit, instantly growing sensetive from the touch. Jun-ho was fully hard now, the fabric of his pants growing tight. 

The sight was out of the world, better than his deepest fantasies, and the pornos he jerked off to while imagining you instead. Your pussy was calling out his name, craving to be touched, by him and him only. 

Jun-ho did not hesitate to drop to his knees, hot breath fanning over the flesh, as he leisurely tugged your panties down, letting them fall once they were loose around your knees. His fingers then travelled to your sides, clutching the waistband of your skirt, and using the elastic to push it up until it's levelled with your waist. 

Goosebumps broke out across your body when his thumb found your slick folds, gliding it from your entrance to your clit, with the purpose of spreading your juices around. 

You were so wet, he could easily slide a finger inside, and that thought alone had no reason making him this hard, underwear wet with a patch of pre-cum.  

"You need to be taught a lesson." He mouthed, lips mere inches away from your cunt. "So desperate and needy for me." 

"Mhmm." You hummed out, eyes falling shut when he planted an open-mouthed kiss to the back of your thigh. "'That feel good."

"Yeah?" He hushed out, littering wet, sloppy kisses to your thighs, trailing a path up to the inner part connecting to your folds. His thumb relaxed over your sensitive nub, leaving you no time to process the gesture before positioning his mouth to your folds. 

Your body jerked with pleasure, hands grasping into nothing as they sat in place beneath the fabric of your skirt, the sensation of his tongue causing you to crumble, as he searched through your folds like a man starved. 

"Fuck!" You whined, arching your back to chase after the fraction of his tongue swirling down from your entrance, to your clit. 

"There you are, that's my good girl." He muffled against your soaked cunt, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nub, too drunk on your pussy juices to comprehend his surroundings, nor the fact that you were still in public. "Such a pretty pussy, only for me to fuck and worship."

A thrill of excitement rushed through your insides, the idea of getting caught increasing your arousal. Jun-ho was no good guy, but he wasn't a bad person either. He did his utmost to follow the rules; however, he was willing to risk it all, lose his job just to have you trembling underneath him while he fucks your needy hole with his tongue. 

Jun-ho's tongue swirled through your folds, now mixed with your arousal and his spit. He leisurely began increasing the pace, slowly but surely, till it was no longer bearable, with your own climax building up. 

He licked a stripe of your entrance, tongue moving up and down, till his mouth landed on your clit. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your nub, making you yelp everytime his teeth would graze over the sensitive flesh. The latter took your fuzzy state for granted, flicking his tongue against your clit, overstimulating you whole, and spiraling a rush of adrenaline through your veins. 

"Jun-ho!" You mewled out, blinking through hooded eyes. You were sure bruises formed around your wrists by now, the repetitive contact of skin creating an uncomfortable, yet pleasurable sensation. "I'm so– I'm so cl–"

Your statement was soon interrupted when Jun-ho suddenly halted, stepping back to steal a glance at your achy cunt, now coated with his spit, as some of it trickles down your legs with a purpose. 

"Don't." He warned, giving your ass a squeeze, using the force of the gesture to tumble himself up. "Don't you dare fuckin' come, you hear me? I'm not done with you." 

"Well then hurry up." You coaxed through a breath, chest pressing against the hood of the car, making you feel dirty. "What are you waiting for?"

"Relax, doll, don't you want me to take care of you?" Jun-ho questioned, tone teasing, full with cockiness. "Wanna feel your desperate pussy clenching around me, y'know how long I'been waiting for that?"

Jun-ho wasted no time, unbuckling his belt, and messily undoing the buttons to his pants. He barely managed to tug the material down, striving to get it off with one of his hands, all while still squeezing and kneading the fatty flesh of your ass. 

"So fuckin' pretty n' perfect, hell, I can't believe I finally have you to myself." He grunted as your ass perked up, chasing after the fraction of his fingers. "Mhm, such a bratty little slut, using me to get off, huh? You know we can't be doing this." 

"No one will know," you hushed out, teeth digging through your bottom lip. "Jus' please– do something."

That was the only assurance he needed. Jun-ho pulled down his underwear, freeing his throbbing cock from the tight material. He was rock-hard, it was starting to hurt, tip glistening with pre-cum that kept leaking out. 

He lined his dick with your entrance, the sensation earning an audible gasp out of you, though he only inserted the tip inside, going in leisurely. He stroked his cock up and down, your hole, until it was coated with a glossy, wet layer. 

"Fuck," he hissed, lips parting with a shuddered exhale, watching as your cunt clenched around nothing, practically begging to have him inside you. The sight consumed his brain, eating at him alive. He bunched his shirt in a fist, positioning one of his hands on your hip, the gesture a mere act of closure. "Such a needy slut, begging to be fucked." 

He gave you no time to process the statement, thrusting his cock inside in one go. It caught you off gaurd, yelping as he filled your insides, slowly pumping in and out your hole, just until you got used to how big he was. 

"So big..." you trailed off, spit salivating in your mouth. "Feel' s' good." 

"Yeah?" He spoke through an exhale, heat radiating off his entire figure. He continues pounding into you, spreading your cheeks out to get a better view of your pussy as it squelches around him. "You like that? Wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Mhm." You desperately nodded, letting your eyes force shut. "Please, please, please, Jun-ho pleaseeeee." 

"Keep moaning my name, baby." He muttered through gritted teeth, reaching for your waist from beneath your shirt. "Show me who you belong to." 

Both of you were too far gone to care about anything other than his cock as he buries himself inside you. His thrusts increased in pace, and you could not have felt any better, he was so good at what he does, you almost felt jealous of all the other girls he's done this with. 

Jun-ho's arms sneaked their way around your waist, applying enough pressure to pull you up, until your back pressed to his firm chest. The gesture gave the latter more access to your entrance, now able to insert himself deeper, thought it felt impossible. 

His hands kept busy throughout the entire time, fingers landing on your cleavage, before he tucked down the collar of your shirt, to reveal your chest, freeing out your tits to the chilly air. He rolled and pinched at your nipples, kneading it afterwards to soothe away any pain.

Jun-ho's cock pulsed in and out of you, loud breaths filling the air, the atmosphere heavy with desire. He knew exactly what to do, how to please you, how to make you forget the guilt washing over your chest. You couldn't believe it; your dirty fantasies finally coming true, though it didn't feel real whatsoever. 

"Such a whore, offering yourself to me in public?" He stifled out a snort, fisting your hair in between his large digits. "Want me to fuck you here so everyone could see how desperate you are? Hmm, I guess you're not such a good girl after all." 

Your climax approached within every passing second, his hard cock pounding into you doing things to you. It was out of this world, no words could describe the rush of pleasure you were experiencing in the moment. 

"You' close?" He asked, noticing how shaky your legs got under him. "Come for me, sweet girl." 

The following few seconds fixed on you, not long before you came undone, announcing your own orgasm once your legs trembled with pleasure, overstimulated by the fraction of his cock deep and raw inside you. 

"Mhm, there she is." He grunted in your ear, walking you through your high, and his own arousal. "Wanna finish inside you, and make a mess out of your tight pretty hole." 

"Please." You obliged, throwing your head back, with one of your hands landing over his; where it laid flat on your chest. 

His thrusts grew wet and sloppy, coming inside you once his cock kisses your cervix, painting your walls white with his cum. The warmness of his sperm filled up your hole, earning a ragged breath out of the latter, finishing with a hefty groan. 

He took a pause, a smile tugging at his lips when his gaze shifted to you. You scoffed at the cocky grin smothered all over his face, suddenly growing flustered, as heat flushed your face. 

"Why are you staring?" You asked, tiredly fluttering your eyes shut. 

"No reason," he dismissed, caressing the skin around your waist. "You jus' look pretty." 

"Shut up." You attempted to shove him off, action falling short when your attention trailed to your cuffed wrists. "Can you get these off of me?" 

"Hmm," he trailed off, bending down to level his face with yours. He planted a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, whispering out his next words. 

"Only if you say please." 

It felt like a dream; a fever dream. And if this did truly happen, no one were to find out, especially your brother, that's for sure. 

[sleepyangelkami]

COSTUME s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.4K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - this is my first ever time writing about sucking dick, please be nice to me, i'll cry.

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you had to dress up as an FBI agent with the winchester brothers. you felt stupid in a costume but luckily for you, sam really liked seeing you in a skirt.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, oral(s!rec), no p!v sex, size kink, praise kink, fingering, slight manipulation, reader lowk flexible, cum eating, messy sex, squirting, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"come on, y/n, we gotta go!" you heard dean's not so gentle knock against the bathroom door as you slipped on your last mary jane shoe.

you weren't usually chosen for tasks like this.

usually, it was the winchester boys that did all this kind of thing, you know, fraud? you were usually just the researcher, sitting in the motel room as back up, with a laptop perched on your lap or sitting in baby, the key inside and waiting to be their getaway car.

you weren't really hands on when it came to being a hunter.

you never really had to go out into the real world for much. but this particular demon was snatching girls, twenty something year old girls about your age and appearance. the brothers thought it would be best if another girl accompanied them when investigating the missing girls' roomates and not two six-foot men dressed in suits.

dean's head turned as the creaky bathroom door opened. "I feel stupid."

his eyebrows raised to the tips of his forehead, a look of shock passing over him as he cleared his throat with a breathy laugh. "wait 'til sammy sees you." you just gave him a confused look before grabbing the pretty pink purse that sat on the bed. "aah-ah." you look up at dean confused. "kind of ruins the whole FBI vibe, don't you think?"

you eyed the purse in your hands.

it was a little bag, hardly able to hold anything other than your phone and your lipgloss, not that you ever had to worry about holding your wallet when you had the boys around but nonetheless, a card was wedged in there too.

it was pink with darker pink flowers on it and a ribbon attached to the strap. sam had gotten it for you after a case that you worked particularly hard on.

but dean was right, it didn't fit the whole 'FBI vibe' so you sighed and placed it back on the bed, passing the man an unhappy glance.

sam was outside, sitting in the passenger seat of the infamous impala named 'baby' by dean. he'd packed and started the car, waiting for the two of you when you caught his eye.

or should he say, your outfit.

you often wore pretty little sundresses or blouses and skirts paired together with a pretty cardigan drawn over you. but this? This seemed awfully different to your usual attire.

the white blouse was a little too low for comfort and he could tell by the way you were pulling it up over your cleavage that you agreed. your black pencil skirt was high, too high with a pair of long black stockings that stopped just above your knees paired with the infamous mary janes that you wore with almost everything.

sam was staring.

"what are you wearing?" was the first thing he asked when you and dean got into the car. "what is she wearing?" he turned back to dean.

you owned the stockings and the mary janes before hand but the rest of the outfit? it'd been dean's job to pick it out (which was no wonder you looked like... that.) "dude, she has to play the part."

"yeah of an FBI agent not some sexy stripper cop." sam spoke, exasperated.

"thank you!" you beamed from the back seat before your eyes furrowed. perhaps your boyfriend hadn't been complimenting you at all.

sam passed you a glance through the mirror but was more focused on blaming his brother. how could he let you go out looking like that for everyone to see? how could he make sam watch you while his pants tightened and his bulge was on show?

you thought the interviews went smoothly. you sat down with most of the women. the college women who's roomates had gone missing. dean was too busy fraternizing with the college girls to care about the case anymore and sam... well sam had seemed a little distracted from the beginning.

he couldn't rip his eyes away from you. you sat so perfectly, pieces of hair falling into your face as you nodded and sympathised with the women, asking them questions and jotting down notes onto a little notepad you had found in the backseat of baby.

sam was staring at you, at the way he could see the outline of your boobs down your shirt or the way your plush thighs protruded from the fabric of your stockings.

he was in awe.

it was hard to focus on anything other than you, which is why he had to excuse himself to talk to the headmaster instead of being stuck in a room with you, too close.

he was your boyfriend, it wasn't as if you hadn't done things with him before. on the contrary, you did... many things with sam before. but this was borderline unprofessional, the way he let his thoughts run.

he could imagine sliding his hands beneath your skirt or listening to your little gasps when he touched your skin, barely grazing it. you were so easily led like that, so audible and obedient. he could imagine unbuttoning your shirt slowly, with you sat on his lap while whines fell from your lips, whimpers following shortly after.

he needed to stop thinking.

or better yet, he needed to fuck you until the thoughts stopped.

dean decided he was going to check out the last spot that the college girl had been taken, assuring you both that he wouldn't be back before dinner. but the wink he shot his younger brother told him that he was merely giving you both alone time because he was no stranger to the look in sam's eyes.

and this was when sam got selfish.

honestly, the motel wasn't that far from the college so you and sam opted to walk back. the air turned brisk and for a split second, sam was about to offer you his jacket, the way he always would.

he thought it was rather adorable, watching the way you nuzzled into the jacket that was far too big for your frame. he was six foot five after all, you drowned in anything he let you wear.

but he found himself feeling selfish. he selfishly liked the way your perky breasts looked in that pretty blouse and the way your plush thighs could be seen peeking out from between the skirt and the stockings. he couldn't stop looking, couldn't tear his eyes away and stop his imagination from roaming.

so he let you walk back to the hotel, keeping a slight distance behind you so he could watch your body as he pleased, the only sound between you two being the click-clop of your mary jane heels as you walked home.

when you finally got inside, you felt yourself sigh in thought.

sam had been acting awfully quiet since you'd left and you'd begun to worry that you'd done something to upset him.

perhaps the outfit was too revealing, perhaps he wasn't okay with it.

you turned, an apology already on the tip of your lips. "sam―"

before you could utter the words, sam had grabbed you. his lips pushed into your own, a kiss filled with no passion or love, you could taste nothing aside from thick hunger, half a growl from inside his throat.

you whimpered into the kiss, taken by surprise. you felt him grab at you, one hand slid up your back, the other grabbing the back of your head and a fistful of hair along with it. again, a noise escaped you while sam was mindlessly kicking off his shoes, guiding you towards the bed.

to say you were surprised was saying the least, you hadn't expected this.

when he sat you gently against the bed, he finally broke the kiss. you looked up at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips while he tugged his suit jacket off, not bothering to take off his tie completely but only loosen it so it didn't hang so close to his neck. perhaps now he could finally breathe.

your eyes followed him curiously as he bent down, eyes never leaving yours while you stayed sitting on the mattress. you felt his hands pawing at your legs, slipping your mary janes from your feet. his hands gently rubbed at your sock-covered feet, a little reminder of his gentleness, despite the roughness he was suddenly using on you.

his fingers trailed upwards, following the little sewing thread between the fabric of your stockings. when his hands reached the top, he snapped the fabric back, leaving it snap against your thighs. "you're keeping these on." he uttered, he didn't sound like he normally did. he sounded as if he were pent up, desperate for relief. and he was.

you just couldn't seem to understand why.

"sam, why are you―"

you were cut off. "you're jus' so pretty all dressed up, honey." sam was towering over you as he stood, his large hand falling on your face, practically taking up a whole cheek as he cupped it. "'n i was hard all day thinkin' about this. you do wanna make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?"

he watched as your eyes seemingly got rounder. "i wanna make you feel good, sammy." you caught your bottom lip between your top teeth and he could tell you were being honest, so honest.

willing to do anything to make him feel good, his sweet sweet girl. he would have cooed at you had he not been busy using his thumb to pull your bottom lip from beneath your top teeth. "don't do that, baby." he watched as you nodded silently. "good girl, i'll give you something to wrap those pretty lips around, don't worry."

he could see your face slowly building a flush, that kind of blush that had him reeling. he liked when he got you like this, all flustered and squirming. which you were, squirming in your seat with your thighs pushing together.

sam was well aware that if he were to reach up your skirt now, he would find a little wet circle sitting on your satin panties.

but instead, he used his hands to pull his own trousers from him. they were sitting tightly on his hips and when he finally pulled them down, you could see his bulge sticking out from his black boxers.

you gulped, hands playing together in your lap. you wanted to look back up at sam but you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from him, too engrossed by his dick to think of anything else.

"'s how i felt all day, sweetheart." his voice was a whisper now. "you were teasin' me 'n i couldn't do anything about it. do you know how mean that is?"

your eyes snapped up to his, filling with this red glassiness. "w-what?" you didn't want to be mean to sam. he was so good to you, always making you feel good, you wanted nothing more than to be good to him. "'m sorry sammy, 'm really sorry."

"awh, i know, baby." his thumb swiped against your cheek, playing around with your face as if you were dough, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "you just wanna be my good girl, yeah?"

you nodded quickly. "mmhm, wanna be your good girl, sammy, 'm sorry. 'm really sorry."

"i don't know, you were very bad today." his constant teasing as only making your panties wetter, that tone he was using on you, the one that he knew got you all flustered. "if i give you a second chance, are you gonna be good?"

"uh-huh, 'be so good, sammy, i promise. please, ill be good." you were begging now, eyes as big as saucers and lips wet.

he didn't bother pretending to think about it, he just leaned down, so far that his face was in line with yours, lips against your ear as he softly whispered the words, "then get onto your knee's 'n show me."

when sam winchester told you to do something, you did it, no questions asked.

you'd touched him like this many times before, you on your hands and knees on the mattress while he stood on the ground. he thought it was the most comfortable spot for the both of you, seeing as he was so big.

you did as you were told, moving so you were on your hands and knees against the mattress. your hands moved up to his waist, eyes snapping to his. he watched you intently as you brought your lips to his clothed cock, pressing a pretty kiss against it before using your fingers to pull down his underwear.

you did it without fail every single time.

every time he had you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, you started off with that pretty kiss to his boxers. there was something sickly sweet about it that had his eyes already rolling backwards. it was almost an innocent and naive act of love towards him, laced with lust.

you were on just your knees now, pushing his boxers down with no help from him. his dick sprung free and you could see an idle line of precum dripping down his shaft. instinctively, your hand moved up, thumb swiping the precum and smoothing it over the head of his dick. the act alone caused a grunt to leave his lips.

as pretty as you looked, all curious and ready to take your time, sam simply wasn't having it tonight.

he was too pent up from your silly outfit and his own mindless thoughts that he couldn't help it.

his hand fell to the side of your head, cupping it as he guided it forward. you knew what he was asking and you wasted no time in sticking out your tongue and licking a kitten lick up his shaft.

"fuck," fell from his lips. "good girl." mumbling as your tongue swirled over his head and your mouth wrapped around his dick. sam was a huge man and his dick was no exception to that. he was huge, too big to fit in your mouth but you pushed him in anyway, only covering a little more than half.

sam knew he was big too, he couldn't help the quirk of his lips as he looked down at you, struggling to fit his size into your mouth. his hand slowly guided your head further onto his cock, letting your lips wrap around him completely, your saliva coating him. it wasn't until you gagged that he knew this was as far as you could go.

so he pushed you a little further, anyway.

you brought your head back out then in again, bobbing it as you tongue swirled against him. you were no stranger to sucking sam off but every time you did it, you found yourself getting nervous. you wanted to be good for him and you were doing your upmost best.

his pretty thing.

"fuck, baby, you're doin' so good f'me." and sam knew exactly what effect his words would have on you. "mmph, look so pretty with your lips around my dick, sweetheart."

you couldn't help but moan on his dick.

and his lips quirked into that sickly sweet smile.

he knew how easily you got wet, how all it took was just a few words and you were a moaning, whining mess. sam thought you deserved a little more for all you were giving him than just a little praise.

and like said before, sam was huge so he reached over, his torso towering a little above your head and his arm reached out, soothing down your lower back.

this wasn't the first time sam had pulled something like this. you knew what to do, stomach sinking onto the bed as you rolled your ass into nothingness, wanting to create some kind of friction while your mouth continued to slowly melt around him, licking and sucking, eyes closed as one hand pumped the part of his dick that your mouth couldn't reach.

you felt his fingers tracing the outline of your satin underwear, pulling up your skirt so he could gain access.

you made a noise of complaint, knowing that if he touched you, you wouldn't be able to focus properly on touching him. sam only used his free hand to push your head onto his dick and make you gag again.

he liked watching you fall apart, especially with his dick stuffed in your mouth.

he loved watching the way your body had to bend for him to be able to stick his fingers into your gaping whole, watching as you desperately rolled your hips, wanting him him him. you wanted to feel him. taste him. smell him. he was all consuming, you wanted him to take over your every sense.

and he always did, without complaint.

you were wet, undeniably so, he could feel it through the satin material that he pulled back, getting access to your aching pussy. "there you go, sweetheart, tha's it." while easing two fingers into your hole.

you felt like a slut.

he had you completely and utterly full.

"'s that nice, baby? y'feel so warm." both with your mouth against his dick and your soaking wet hole. "you're so pretty for me, you know that, angel?"

he knew you couldn't respond, only whining and whimpering against his throbbing cock. "you're my good girl, aren't you?" he felt you whine, vibrations spreading through him and he also felt your pussy squeeze against his fingers. he grinned at that. "you like that, honey? like thinkin' about how you're my good girl, yeah? all mine, baby, you're all mine."

and you really were. before sam, you wouldn't look at a boy sideways let alone be like this.

you groaned into him, ass rolling against his fingers while your own free hand moved down. you continued sucking his dick while using your nimble fingers to play with your clit.

and that was enough for sam to let out a moan. "oh, baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself while―shit―sucking my cock."

your eyes rolled back, feeling of pleasure coating you while your soft lips bobbed up and down, fingers tracing him and yourself.

"'m gonna cum, sweetheart." a warning, though he knew you wouldn't move anyway. "you gonna be a good girl 'n cum on my fingers while you suck my cock, huh, baby?"

he felt you absentmindedly nod, too fucked out to think straight while feeling a familiar knot deep in your stomach.

your whines got louder and he felt himself nearing the edge. the sight of you, blissed out while sucking his cock, his fingers stuffed into your hole making you feel all full... he couldn't help but let go.

at the same time, he felt your gummy walls clenching around his fingers, wet juices sliding down his hand while spurts of squirt left your pussy every time his fingers pumped in and out of you, riding out your high.

"good girl, good girl. that's it, baby. oh fuck. yeah, my good girl. there you go." he was in awe, watching you squirt around his fingers, the wet feeling as it spurted out from your pussy, decorating the bedsheets in your juices while your pretty socks got ruined in the mess.

when he finally finished, he pulled his fingers out of you, letting you lean back as you parted your lips to show him his cum all over your tongue, spread messily in your mouth.

his hand was on your face, eyes strained on your mouth as he watched you close your lips and swallow like the good girl you were, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip.

he pushed his two fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. while your eyes rolled back, all fucked out and dumb.

"think we have some time before dean gets back, yeah?" eyes already scanning your body and letting his imagination get the better of him.

he just watched your blissed out face nod, cheeks flushed. "mmhm hmph."

he wasn't done with you just yet.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist