#i bet hes doing all this to him right now

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw - Katsuki is soo mean, rough sex, degradation n manhandling. Not proofread!

One thing about Katsuki, he's an impatient man, that's for sure. There wasn’t any “Katsuki can i try to ride you” or “pleaseee just let me do it by myself” none of that. He had enough of your shit.

He tsks mockingly, a derisive sound escaping his lips the moment his keen eyes detect that the rhythm of your alluring ass that’s bouncing on his cock becoming duller and slower. He's so fucking disappointed in himself for even giving you the chance to try and ride him.

How dumb.

What a waste of time.

He quickly grabs both of your supple asscheeks, his strong hands creating a sense of urgency as he firmly squeezes them, preventing you from moving away. He impatiently starts thrusting his hips up into you, entering you in one complete motion. The sudden force of his entire length, which you weren't even able to fit by yourself, invading your little pussy so easily made you squirm to quickly get a hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself because you knew how fucking crazy he was when it came to with manhandling.

His crimson-red eyes locked onto your contouring features, swallowing up your adorable reactions with pure joy. He just loves bullying you like this. Katsuki was a wonderful partner, devoted, wealthy, and maybe not the most mature, but he was unquestionably aware of right from wrong when it comes to relationships. The only thing is, he’s just so so cruel and vulgar to you sometimes, especially during sex. Bakugou always had a huge ego and prideful personality so you can't say you were surprised before tangling yourself up with him.

When the early morning light streamed through the window, his routine began before even taking a bite of the breakfast you made, pumping your warm cunny full of cum before heading off to fulfill his manly responsibilities as a pro-hero. "Better keep my cum buried in this pussy, you got it?" he commanded sternly, his warm breath fanning against the delicate skin of your neck as you mewled at the harsh way the edge of the dinner table was digging into your poor abdomen. Crossing your thighs together so you could avoid any spillage of his sperm because you know he’d check when you go deliver his home-cooked lunch at his agency later in the day. And if you make one wrong move, you’ll be limping your way out of his agency.

Whether you like it or not, katsuki will always be mean when he’s fucking you. It’s a part of him, you’ve known that just by the way he acted. Always had an feisty attitude and angry issues with everyone around him but the difference is you fucking loved it, and of course he knew that, that’s why he indulges in it and constantly reminds you every single time how much of a horny little cock-whore you are, pussy slobbering uncontrollably all over his pretty cock like a nasty slut. The rim of your hole clinging onto his dick as if your life depended on it. It hasn’t even been five second since he walked through the door from work, still clad in his hero costume before his hard dick is nestled in his housewife's warm, runny sex.

Your pink panties slackly pulled to the side, revealing your tight hole for his vicious assault as he ruthlessly positioned himself to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

His gears and pants rubbing against the smooth flesh of your thighs, harshly marking it red. Poor Katsuki he couldn’t save a civilian from a villain attack today and now he’s so frustrated and mad so what better way to vent than abusing his pretty housewife’s comforting cunt? :(

“Tight fucking pussy, yer creaming all over me already. Bet you were thinking about my cock splitting you open the entire day, weren’t you princess?” He laughed tauntingly, his angry cock curving right into your g-spot making your toes curl in the air as his strong, big hands held an astonishingly tight grip on your waist to keep you off the floor while you bent over his marble counter. You always found it so sexy when Katsuki showed off his strength to you, after all, he’s one of the most strongest pro-heroes so of course he’d be unbelievably strong. You went crazy over it.

“Sukii– m’gonna fuck! Cum” you cried out, tears streaming down your eyes as his fat cock delved deeper into your core, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again, sending you into a daze as you lose your mind. “No, you fucking slut— always being such a greedy bitch. You’re not cumming until I’m ready to fill you up, ya hear me?” his tone was so serious, it sent shivers down your spine.

You quickly gripped the edge of the counter. Your soft, plush ass bouncing back against his hard pelvis with each forceful thrust. God, he loved the sight so much, he licked his lips at the delicious sight of the creamy mess you were creating, completely coating him and his balls with your juices. It made his cock throb against your walls at the lewd way your quirkless pussy was rightfully swallowing him in.

“Katsuki I–“ you stammered, struggling to find your words as fear washed over you. Your hole fluttered around him, you were seeing white at this point. Your inner muscles involuntarily clasped tightly around his length. You couldn’t help it, his cock was just so fucking long and thick, and well he knew how to skillfully use it that it made you become undone within five minutes. Your eyes bulged open with fear as the streaming white liquid from your cunt spattered onto his cock and thighs and onto his expensive marble floor. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him resulting in him quickly placing you down on the slick floor and violently smacking your fleshy ass, making it recoil against his touch as he groaned. “God, you’re such a dumb fucking slut, what did I tell you? Can’t even understand simple instructions that I give you”.

He swiftly extracted his cock from your soaked pussy and hoisted you over his huge shoulder before making his way to your shared bedroom. You cried out as your cunt twitched in anticipation as echoes of his firm, resounding spanks on your bruised ass reverberated through the room with each step he took, “M’gonna teach you a fucking lesson, better make sure this is the last time you fucking disobey me”.

[hellokittyish]

part one here.

★ thinking about mutual masturbation on facetime with ex!satoru which starts off with you just staring at him in some sort of daze, wondering what on earth possessed you to pick up the call in the first place. this is a mistake, you know that... so why aren't you hanging up already?

but before you can dwell too long on the answer to that question, your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a particularly loud moan echoing through the speaker.

“mmh… you actually didn’t decline for once," the white-haired menace gasps out, the slick sounds of his hand gliding up and down his cock only picking up in volume as he lays eyes on you. “shit— you don't know how much i've missed seein’ that pretty face of yours, baby.”

“you’re so shameless, satoru.” you mutter, lacing your tone with as much disdain as you can muster; but the way your own hand somehow snakes its way beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties tells an entirely different tale of how this whole situation is really making you feel.

“yeah,” he muses in an unapologetic hum, making a show of tilting the camera down to give you a better view of where he's currently thumbing his leaky, blushing tip. “but… ah— so are you, otherwise you would’ve blocked my new number the second i sent you that dick pic.”

“w-well how do you know i wasn't about to press the block button right when you called me and i accidentally clicked accept instead?” you shoot back through teeth which are clenched partly in annoyance and partly in an effort to hold back letting your own pleasure show on your face.

“nah, don’t give me that bullshit,” satoru snorts amusedly, leaning in closer to the screen and tilting his head to the side, snowy lashes fluttering seductively as his bright eyes stare knowingly into yours. “if you’re not enjoying this, then i want you to show me that your hands aren’t in your pants right now rubbing that pretty little pussy.”

shit. of course he'd be able to see through you that easily — he is your ex, after all. but no... you can’t let him win just yet. so, as subtly as possible, you pull your hand from your panties and hold it up to the phone screen, hoping against hope that the darkness of your room hides the wetness of your palm.

“hah. nice try, baby,” he drawls smugly, smiling so wide now that both of his annoyingly cute dimples are on full display; and it’s deliberate, too. he knows full well they were always your weakness. “...but i can see your sweet juices coating those cute fingers from here.”

and he knows he has you right where he wants you when you still don't hang up the call like you both know you should, instead just shoving your hand right back into your panties and rubbing messy circles over your clit while keeping direct eye-contact with him — trying to beat him at his own game, are you? oh, how he's missed you.

so he picks up the pace of his jostling fist around his cock, candy-pink lower lip caught between his pearly teeth as he tries to catch even a small glimpse of your bare skin through the screen; and god, only you could make him act this pathetic, this desperate. "fuck... please, pretty, y'gotta give me something to work with here. h-how about you pull your top up just a little for toru, hm?"

and you've already let this escalate too far to back out now, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and tug at the edge of your oversized tee just enough so that your bare tits spring free, courtesy to your preference for not wearing a bra around your apartment.

"o-oh, just look at those. i missed my girls s'much. bet you wish they were in my mouth right now, huh?" satoru rasps out, balls tightening to an almost painful degree as he reaches down to pay the heavy, neglected sacs some attention by gently fondling them.

and you, having finally caved and slid a finger into your fluttering hole, can only respond with a soft whine as you reach up to knead a breast with your free hand, the image of his skilled mouth suckling on them like he always used to making your much-too-empty cunt clench around your digit with need.

and that singular sweet, sweet sound from your lips that he's been deprived of hearing for months is all it takes for him to finally bust a load all over his chest and hand, goopy white streaks tainting his previously unmarred pale skin as his entire body trembles with a pleasure only you can give him.

and when he eventually manages to compose himself enough to glance back down at the facetime and realize that you're still trying to reach your own climax, your meek little fingers clearly not enough to finish the job, satoru has the absolute audacity to lean right in close to the screen and mutter out a cheeky…

“hey, if y'want me to come over and help you with that then all you gotta do is agree to get back together with me, baby.”

taglist: @haruhatake @sheismaryy @jxeon @bonneyzsk @yozora7154 @depositodeporradogojo @ifyournameischoisanpleaseloveme @anthy-j-ander @sugarcoatedsoul @moncher-ire @fwxyz00 @trishiepo0 @just-lilita @beenathembo @channnee @tul1ps1 @awoodsysimp411 @vera4luv @silllly-jokesterr @mastermasterlist1p1 @yourfaveava @rllyobsessedgirlie @cherrycel @tomiokas-lunchbox @iwaizumisloverrr @citruswriter @jasminelee324 @kocho-catt @azewritessillystuff @suggestmename @greentea-ellie @banksxxnik @feelingtoosilly @nepotti @nonamevenus @barking4dogs-fy @mihoonz @crazytrash @phoenixflames498 @starlightmid @k0z3me @cakenpiewhyohmy @wh1msycal @resfrio @ersharyzst @loveyislost @supernovacoffeestop @ying47

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[inktopuck]

miss honey | jack hughes social media au (pt.4)

pt.3

yournamelastname

Liked by _quinnhughes, l_hughes06 and others

yournamelastname oh michigan how i love you

trevorzegras oh wow

_quinnhughes me not being able to go home for thanksgiving this time is my 13th reason

l_hughes06 the fact that you made hot chocolate for JACK and y'all didn't save any for me...... foul

yournamelastname i took pity on him he cried today

jackhughes now why would you say this on the internet

yournamelastname i thought it would humanize you, mr robot. it's sweet that you cried because you accidentally stepped on your pup.

l_hughes06 he stepped on bear????

jackhughes ACCIDENTALLY

colecaufield am i the only one weirded out by y/n using sweet and jack in the same sentence

jackhughes

Liked by yournamelastname, _quinnhughes and others

jackhughes great day with all the brave kiddos at @newark_bethnj thank you for letting us hang with you!

trevorzegras tears coming down my face

yournamelastname you're not half as bad as you look...........

l_hughes06 IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

colecaufield yeah right 🧐

jackhughes i'm great with kids you know this

yournamelastname come visit mine or else

trevorzegras i can go!!

jackhughes you're on the other side of the country

trevorzegras say the word miss honey

jackhughes stay silent

yournamelastname

Liked by _quinnhughes, trevorzegras and others

yournamelastname i had to pay for my own ticket for this... and these two lost (((but at least i met this cool penguins fan!!)))

jackhughes yeah cause you said you were only going because of sid!!!

colecaufield what's wrong jacky? getting jealous of the old man?

yournamelastname you're so not chivalrous

jackhughes yeah yeah chivalry is dead, shortcake

elblue06 Jack! Luke! you made her pay??? What is wrong with you?

l_hughes06 mom she was cheering for the penguins

elblue06 she could be cheering for the rangers you've been friends your whole lives!

l_hughes06 it's not my fault jack got jealous

jackhughes delete

jackhughes

Liked by nicohischier, jesperbratt and others

jackhughes it's like having a toddler over

l_hughes06 damnit shortcake

jackhughes this is insane right??

l_hughes06 yeah now i owe her $100 because i bet she wouldn't actually do it and she did

jackhughes of course you were in on this

yournamelastname stop being boring rowden

elblue06 i LOVE what she did with the place

jackhughes not you too

elblue06 your apartment is too sterile

yournamelastname he's a sad beige mom, ellen

jackhughes take that back right now

trevorzegras you can do my pad next miss honey! whatever you like

jackhughes quiet now

[ariestrxsh]

🍕 content warning: smut, praise, jealousy, masturbation, oral (f! & m!receiving), edging, begging, unprotected sex, light choking, sub!pizzaboy!chris, dom!boss!reader

🍕 author's note: this series follows sub!pizzaboy!chris and his tendency to mix business and pleasure. in part one, he sleeps with a customer after delivering pizza to her. in part two, he sleeps with a cop that pulls him over for speeding. now he must use his magnetic charm to seduce his boss to avoid getting in trouble for coming back late from a delivery.

🍕 summary: you can't help but get a little jealous when you find out your favorite employee, chris, has been sharing his meat with everyone but you.

pizza guy part three

"That delivery should have only taken twenty minutes. Why did it take you an hour and a half?" You inquired, peering up from the nightly paperwork at Chris, who had just walked through the front door of the otherwise empty pizza shop.

He could immediately feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

Chris was your best employee when he wanted to be, but he was constantly pushing the boundaries with you and taking advantage of how much you let him get away with. You could never fire him, though, and he knew that.

He had too many redeeming qualities. He was always covering shifts, bringing in good reviews, and working without complaining. He was also extremely polite and had a lot of respect for authority, always calling you ma'am and asking what you needed from him.

Chris' only downfall was that he couldn't help but mix business and pleasure - always getting high on the job and entertaining the women who were metaphorically lined up for him in between deliveries and sometimes on deliveries.

He always had a good excuse, though. And when he didn't have an excuse, he'd turn on the charm. He saw the way you looked at him, your hungry gaze that would linger for a few seconds too long, and he recognized the need in your voice, every word coated with lust. He knew that in your eyes, he could do no wrong. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't above using that to his benefit.

"Chris. Where the hell have you been?" You repeated, interrogating him. "Sorry, ma'am.." he apologized, forcing a pout. "I got pulled over," which wasn't technically a lie. "Oh, Chris. You poor thing," you responded, your tone immediately changing as you walked over to him, giving the sweet boy a hug.

"Did you get a ticket?" You wondered, cradling his flushed face. "No, ma'am. Almost. I think the police officer has a little bit of a crush on me," Chris said, his blue eyes flickering back up at yours as he tried to hold back a smirk. Can't blame her, you thought, studying his handsome features as his seemingly innocent smile stared back at you.

You detected a scent on Chris, one you could recognize anywhere and one you'd already addressed with him. "Chris. Are you stoned right now?" You glared at him, looking at the redness in the whites of his eyes, dropping your hand from his face. "What?! No!" He objected defensively, avoiding eye contact.

"There's no way you just got pulled over. If a cop looked at you for longer than two seconds, you'd be in the back of the cop car in cuffs right now. I bet you were at your dealer's house," you accused him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm not lying, ma'am. She did put me in cuffs," Chris responded, his cock stirring in his jeans as he recounted the events that took place earlier in the night. "You mean to tell me, you went from being cuffed to walking away without even getting a ticket?" You shot him a skeptical look.

He showed you his wrists, pointing out the red marks left behind from the metal that dug into them under the weight of himself and the cop while she riding him. "Don't worry about how I got off, ma'am. All's that matters is that I did," Chris responded, his gaze locked on yours.

You bit down on your lip, imagining Chris in restraints, offering to do anything to keep a clean driving record. You knew it was wrong. After all, he was your subordinate, but that was another reason you could never fire him.

He was so hot, and he knew it. He had this way of looking at you and talking to you when he knew he was about to get into trouble that immediately made you melt. You couldn't stay mad at him. Not even if you wanted to.

"Chris, you gotta be careful. I don't care you if you smoke weed, but you can't keep doing it on the job! You could have gotten yourself into big trouble tonight!" You jabbed your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look.

The truth was, you'd bail him out of jail if you could, but as much as you wanted to protect Chris from the consequences of his actions, you could only do so much when it came to the law. "I'm only hard on you because I care about you," you whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I know, but it makes me feel so good. Don't you like things that make you feel good, ma'am?" Chris asked, a bit of seduction seeping into his tone. You stood in silence for a moment, studying his pretty blue eyes and his pouty lips as he looked you up and down. You avoided his question.

"You know, Chris. I read a really interesting review someone left a while back about you while you were gone," you smirked, sauntering back over to your desk and pulling up the review on the computer. "Was it a good one?" He wondered, his facial features softening as he hoped you were about to start praising him.

"I don't know, you tell me. 'Their driver, Chris, has the best Italian sausage in town. He always goes the extra mile to please the customer,'" you read it word-for-word. "What could she have meant by that, huh?" You wondered with a bit of jealousy lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"I think she just really liked my meat, ma'am. I mean, the shop's meat," he corrected himself, giving you another sultry smile. "Is it the shop's meat? Because I certainly haven't been getting any," you remarked, glancing down at the outline of his half-hard cock in his jeans.

"Oh, ma'am. It would be so wrong," Chris purred, secretly enticed by the moral complexity of the idea of sleeping with his boss. His eyes dropped to your figure as his imagination took over, picturing how certain parts of your body would jiggle while riding him.

"Makes it even hotter, doesn't it? How wrong it is? What do I have to do to get a taste of your meat, huh?" You asked, getting up from your desk and slowly making your way towards him again. "All's you have to do is ask, ma'am," Chris responded with allure in his tone, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I finished everything while you were getting pulled over," you smirked. "Why don't you come home with me, sweetie? It's the least you could do. I'll take really good care of you," you flirtatiously responded, leaning in and kissing his neck. You took both his hands and placed them on your waist.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Please take me home with you. Take good care of me," he whimpered as he tilted his head to the side to give you better access, immediately giving into your advances.

Your lips were so soft, and Chris couldn't get enough of the way they felt on the sensitive nerve endings on his neck, sending blood rushing to the tip of his cock as a few luscious moans escaped.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You cooed, running your fingers along the bulge in his pants as your kisses grew slower, deeper, and more passionate. "Yes, ma'am," Chris mewled, grinding against your palm.

"Down, boy," you said, smiling and petting his package through his jeans as you retreated from kissing his neck. He nearly sobbed when you pulled away. "Oh, ma'am. You're so cruel. Getting me all riled up when we still have a long drive ahead of us," he whispered, already feeling lightheaded from the way you handled him.

"You were cruel first. Leaving me here all alone while you entertain other women. Don't you know how bad I need you here with me, Chris?" You wondered, your words drenched in envy as you delicately ran your hand across his chest.

Of course, you meant it in a professional sense, needing him at the store to help you close up, but you also meant it in a much more primal sense, and he did know. He'd known for a while now, but Chris wasn't the type to make the first move. He'd been waiting for you to finally say it. He nodded.

"Show me how bad you need me," he seductively whispered, tempting you. "Let's lock up, shall we?" You said, taking Chris by the hand, leading him towards the front door, and shutting off all the lights on your way out.

The two of you stepped out into the dark, chilly night, the breeze biting at your nose and stinging your lungs as you inhaled. You slipped the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, and you tugged on the freezing cold handle for good measure.

Chris followed you to your nice, shiny, black SUV and climbed into your passenger seat. You started the ignition, your engine roaring as it turned over. You turned on the heat, placing your palm in front of the fan, waiting for the air to warm up.

Chris was still rock hard, his eager cock straining against the denim fabric he wore and his mind swirling with the possibilities of what you were going to do with him once the two of you made it back to your place.

"So, what really happened with that cop?" You deviously wondered, glaring at him before looking back at the road you started down. Chris blushed. "She handcuffed me and put me in the back of her car. Then whatever you think happened is probably what happened next," Chris smugly suggested.

You bit your lip, letting your imagination run wild. "And the customer, Chris? You naughty boy," you clicked your tongue at him, shaking your head. His head fell lazily against the headrest as he peered over at you with a submissive expression.

"Ma'am. I promise I'm a good boy. I don't have a naughty bone in my body," Chris lustfully responded, his cock beginning to twitch in his pants as his eyes danced over your lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around him. "Well, maybe one," he quietly admitted, shifting around, trying to adjust his aching erection.

"Take it out for me, Chris," you demanded. "Right now?" He asked, an upward inflection in his voice as his brows flew up. "Yes. Show me that pretty cock that the girls can't get enough of, hmm?" You hissed, placing your hand on his thigh and making it jump again. "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, unclasping his belt, undoing his button, and lowering his zipper.

Your eyes shifted between the road and his dick, favoring one more than the other as he started to pull it out. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slightly open at the sight. "You like what you see, ma'am?"

You couldn't find the words to describe just how much you did, so you settled for a subtle nod. Its size was intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He went to wrap his long fingers around his veiny shaft, but you swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say you could play with it," you teased him. He gave you a pout, his brows turning up in a look of anguish. "But I need it," Chris whined.

"I thought you said you were a good boy, hmm? Don't good boys listen and do what they're told?" You purred, playing upon Chris' praise kink and his need for your approval. He hesitantly nodded. "Then behave, Chris." You lightly patted his thigh again, driving him mad with your touch. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Why don't we play a game? And if you're a good boy and play the game correctly, then I'll let you touch with it," You suggested, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "What kind of game?" Chris wondered, eager to let his hands wander below his waist.

"The kind of game where you tell me what happened with that customer who left that review while you stroke yourself, but you have to do exactly as I say. And you better listen and tell me exactly what happened or else you're in big trouble," you told him.

"But ma'am, I'm gonna get in trouble with you anyway," Chris quietly pouted, worried you were going to fire him for lying about his slashed tires that night.

"Oh, Chris. You could never be in trouble with me as long as you tell the truth," you cooed, softly running the back of your hand along his cheek. "You promise?" He timidly asked. "I promise," you replied, and you meant it.

"Go ahead, Chris. Start touching it," you voiced, giving him permission. His hand moved towards his cock, firmly gripping it, and he let out a relieved sigh as he started slowly stroking.

"So, tell me, Chris. Who instigated the interaction? You or her?" You interrogated him, glancing between the road and his swollen head, a wet patch forming on the front of your panties. "She did, ma'am," Chris told you.

"Did you go inside her house?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know I'm not supposed to, but.." Chris started to say. "But what? Answer me, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am. I did go into her house," Chris whimpered, his gaze meeting yours. "How'd she get you to stay, hmm?" You purred, watching Chris' facial features soften as he relaxed into his pleasure.

"She made me a cup of hot cocoa and started kissing my neck. She told me to call you and give you an excuse as to why I couldn't come back to work. Told me she'd make it worth it," Chris admitted, looking nervously at you with his blue eyes.

You gasped. "You naughty boy," you narrowed your gaze at him, a little annoyed that he had faked an excuse to get out of work but a little turned on by the fact that he'd done it to get his dick wet. "She made me call you while she was sucking me off," Chris replied, a smirk forming in the corner of his pink lips.

"You called me while she sucked you off?" You repeated what he just told you to make sure you heard him correctly. You squeezed your thighs together as you pictured him on the phone with you while he had his cock in another woman's mouth. "Mhmm," Chris nodded, pumping his length faster as it quivered against his palm.

"Slow down, Chris. You're gonna have to make yourself last a long time, so don't get too carried away," you smirked at him, thinking about how long you were gonna make him wait to finish. He took a deep breath and slowed the pace. "That's very naughty of you, sweetie," you responded in a voice just above a whisper.

The rest of the drive to your destination, you teased Chris, trying to extract information from him about his most recent sexual encounters, and he spilled the details to you relunctantly. Despite his hesitancy, his cock gave him away, jerking at every word you spoke that jogged his memory.

"Did she ride you, Chris?" You provocatively asked, and you watched it twitch again, listening closely as a soft whine passed through his lips. "I think she did.." you answered your own question, giving him a playful smile.

"You like it when the girl's in charge, don't you? You love to be bossed around in bed," you insinuated, and you watched Chris blush and nod in response as he ran the tip of his thumb through his precum, spreading it around on his sensitive head.

The banter between you and Chris was enticing to say the least, and the whole time you were soaking wet, buzzing with excitement about what Chris would be like in bed and how good his pretty dick would feel lodged inside of you while you bounce up and down on it.

You saw how close he was getting as you turned onto your street, and before he could finish, you stopped him. "Be a good boy, Chris. Put it away for a second. His eyes were filled with hurt and desperation, but he nodded and did as he was told.

Once you pulled into your garage, you turned to Chris, gently grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face just a few inches from yours as you locked your hungry gaze onto his.

"Look. Normally, I'd invite you in, give you something to drink, offer you something to eat, show you around. I don't have the fucking patience for that right now, Chris. What we're gonna do is go straight to my room, and you're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use you however I want for as long as I want. Got it?" You demanded.

Chris obediently nodded, his face conveying desire. You took Chris' hand, leading him in through your warm and cozy house that smelled like apple cinammon. You guided him up your stairs and into your bedroom.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, your mouth crashing into his as the sexual tension between the two of you built to an all-time high. His pretty moans vibrated against your lips as you reached under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against his hip bones as you hooked them onto the hem of the material.

You pulled away long enough to pull his uniform off over his head, and you quickly dropped to your knees. Chris looked down at you, wetting his lips as he silently begged you with his eyes to do what he thought you were going to do. You unbuttoned his jeans, slid the zipper down, and pulled down his pants and his underwear.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as if you were getting ready to please his cock, but you couldn't let him finish without a little more teasing. Instead, you retreated, standing to your feet as a look of disappointment seeped into Chris' expression.

It was just as hard for you as it was for him. You'd imagined this scenario a hundred times, and you couldn't wait to hear the pretty sounds he'd make while you suck on it, but the fact that you'd been waiting so long for it, made you want to savor every moment, every kiss, every touch..

You gently pushed him back onto your bed, and his eyes danced over you while he propped himself up on his elbows as you shed off your own layers, letting them fall to your feet. You climbed on top of him, pulling him into another passionate kiss as the two of you rolled around on your silky soft sheets.

"Be a good boy for me, Chris. Let me sit on your pretty face," you demanded from him, but it didn't take much persuasion. "Oh, yes, ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice," Chris eagerly replied as you gently pushed him down, guiding him to lie flat on his back.

You straddled his face, placing your knees on either side of his head and lowering your pussy onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue explored your folds, flickering back and forth over your sensitive clit.

You entangled your fingers in his messy hair, and you gently tugged on it, causing him to moan against you while his eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration that passed through his lips reverberated against your vulva, pleasure rushing through you.

You gently rocked your hips back and forth, riding Chris' face and grinding against his silky, wet tongue. You peered down into his gorgeous blue eyes as you combed through his brown locks. "You're such a good boy, Chris," you whispered, enjoying the feeling of his lips as he wrapped them around your bundle of nerves and started tenderly sucking on it.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that," you encouraged him. He nuzzled into your heat, relishing in the lovely sounds that left your lips and the way you rutted against his face, all testaments to how good he was making you feel. He could eat you for hours.

He reached up and grabbed your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers. He moaned against your clit a few more times as he delicately sucked on it, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. You felt pressure building in your lower stomach as you tightened the grip of your thighs around Chris' head.

"Good boy," you whimpered again, your body beginning to shiver as your pleasure reached a crescendo. His cock twitched at your praises, and his hands moved to your waist, stabilizing you as he admired the way you looked from this angle.

He took your clit between his lips and gently tugged on it until you were coming undone. You threw your head back and started fervently grinding against his face, losing yourself in your orgasm as you released onto his tongue.

He lapped up every last bit of your wetness, savoring the sweetness that filled his senses. Once you were completely satisfied, he removed his mouth from your pussy. "Did I do a good job, ma'am?" Chris asked, his big, blue eyes staring back at yours with his chin covered in your juices.

"Oh, sweetheart. You always do. You were perfect. Such a good boy," you purred breathlessly as you ruffled his hair once more, starting to lift yourself off of him. "Get comfortable, sweetie. Let me take care of you," you cooed.

"Yes, please," he politely answered, nestling among your mess of pillows and propping himself up against your headboard. He loved it when you took charge. He kept his eyes locked on yours as you placed yourself between his legs.

He'd been hard for the past hour, desperate for you to take it into your mouth, but you were still savoring every moment, and he secretly adored all the teasing. You drew a line from the base of his dick all the way up his length with your soft tongue, and it twitched in response.

You gently kissed his tip, slurping up the shiny, clear fluid that was slowly leaking out as you slowly stroked his dick. He let out a soft, pleasured sound as your tongue made contact with all his sensitive nerve endings, and you started delicately flicking it across his swollen, pink head.

"How's that?" You asked in a soft voice. "So good," he whined as you started combining the two techniques, sucking on it while your tongue got to work, fluttering around in the best-feeling places. Pretty noises poured from his lips as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly on his length and learning every vein with your tongue.

He smiled down at you and tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head, silently asking you to take more of him. You listened by sliding your lips all the way down his shaft until he was hitting the back of your throat. He gasped as you took it all so effortlessly. "How'd you learn to do that, ma'am?" He whimpered, peering down at you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as you chuckled, humming around the base.

You sped up your movements, sloppily drooling and making a mess all over his cock. "Please let me cum. Please," Chris moaned, his luscious voice spilling into the air. Despite how politely he asked, you took him out of your mouth long enough to give him a smirk and shake your head no.

"Please, please, please," his jagged breaths becoming whiny and needy. You ignored his begging and continued your pace, bringing him dangerously close to the edge before withdrawing all stimulation. He let out a few strangled moans as his cock twitched some more, begging to be sucked on again.

You loved how responsive he was and how his body language reacted to every subtle touch. You wrapped your lips around him again, and a stream of lustful noises flowed from him. You looked into his blue eyes that were silently pleading with you. You could see how desperate he was, which made you want to edge him even more.

"Please," he whispered again as if you didn't hear him the first half a dozen times he asked for you to let him finish. "You're going to have to be a good boy and wait," you teased him, removing your mouth again and shifting around on the bed. He responded with a subtle nod.

You began to straddle him, guiding his rod towards your entrance, and you let out a delighted hum as you lowered yourself down onto him. Chris' head gently fell back and tapped the headboard as you squelched around him.

"Oh, Chris. You're so big," you moaned. "So I've been told," Chris chuckled. He couldn't help how much that compliment stroked his ego. You started to ride him, your breasts bouncing in his face as he latched onto your nipples, tenderly sucking on each one. His hands wandered towards your ass, and he squeezed your soft flesh, whimpering against your chest.

"Good boy," you praised him as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his head. You leaned down and started sucking on a sensitive place on his neck, and he whined into your ear as he tried to hold on while you were actively working against him. "Please let me cum," he asked again patiently and politely with desire in his expression.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you cooed into the crook of his neck as you continued lightly sucking on it. Whimpers escaped his mouth as you picked up the pace, your strides becoming faster and rougher. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he tried to hold on to please you.

He was always able to hold the different perspectives of you in his mind, both the professional view he had of you and the sexual desire he felt toward you. He couldn't help but delight in the way the two versions of you merged in front of him. He'd always loved how bossy you were, but the way you were ordering him around in bed gave your bossy nature a whole new meaning to him, and he adored it.

He loved the way you bounced on him, your moans becoming louder and more urgent. He could feel you clenching around his cock, which made it even harder for him to fend off his long-awaited orgasm.

"Please, please, please," he begged some more, losing his composure. "Please let me cum, ma'am," he sweetly requested, his dick already beginning to throb inside of you. He wasn't exactly asking for your permission but more or less warning you that he couldn't hold off anymore.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?" You asked, peering into his bedroom eyes and examining his flushed, pink cheeks and the way he kept licking his lips. "More than anything, ma'am," he whimpered, his eyelids growing heavy and his mouth falling open.

"Only because you've been such a good boy," you commented, caressing his jawline with your thumb and moving your hand to his throat. You gripped his neck, lightly choking him which sent him over the edge.

A few strangled moans passed through his lips as his eyes rolled back and his head gently thumped against the headboard again. His climax hit him like a freight train, barreling through him and sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body.

He shot his load up into you as you finished onto him, the room filling with both of your satisfied sounds. You involuntarily dug your nails into the flesh of his neck, intensifying how good it felt for him. You slumped forward, pulling him into a warm embrace as you throbbed around him.

"Chris, I've been wanting to do that forever," you breathlessly whispered into his ear. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often, huh? It really seems to get your attention," Chris smugly remarked, smirking at you. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have to try to get my attention. You just always have it."

taglist: @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweets @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668 @fratboychrisera

[sinofwriting]

Karma - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,396 Summary: Charles and her had plans. 2025 would start with her fully moving in with him and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they’d become public. A certain rapper ruins that in Vegas. Note(s): Lamar!Reader, Reader has the nickname ‘Butterfly’, slight smau, changed results of Abu Dhabi, also yes the title is referring to the Taylor Swift song, lol. Thank you @burningcupcakefire for encouraging me to write this when I mentioned the idea!!!

Masterlist | Support Me!

Charles could privately admit that when all the diss tracks started to come out, he more than paid attention to them. He had always appreciated Kendrick’s music but in the past year had gained a new perspective of him as both an artist and a person. All because he had started seeing the artist’s younger sister.

They hadn’t gone public yet, were still unsure of when they wanted to. He had reservations about putting more eyes on her and considering how his fans, how motorsport fans were, he could only imagine the baseless claims they’d made, the attacks they’d lay at her feet and Y/N, or Butterfly as she had been nicknamed by her brother’s fans, a nickname that had quickly caught to everyone in her life, had her own reasons.

She didn’t care about what fans would say, they were behind a keyboard, she could be perfect, and to Charles she was, and they would still find something to pick at, there was no winning. It was the attention he brought. She was already sometimes followed around by paparazzi just because of her brother, she knew that as soon as the news broke, she really would never be able to get her groceries in peace without some divorced thirty-year-old shouting questions as he took photos of her.

So they both had agreed that after the new year, when she was finally fully living with him in Monaco, and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they would reveal their relationship, that of course didn’t go to plan because of one Instagram story.

—

—

Butterfly is fuming when he gets back to his hotel room, the curtains drawn back and letting the lights of Vegas spill into it, onto her. She’s nearly as stunning here as she is on his balcony in Monaco that faces the coast. A gorgeous backdrop that can’t even come close to her beauty no matter how much it tries.

Her fury makes arousal simmer in the pit of his stomach and his lips twitch upwards when she leans into the kiss he presses to the corner of her lips.

“You're nearly as mad as when he mentioned Whitney.”

She scowls at the verbal reminder of that shit. “He’s lucky I’m a civil adult.”

“Very civil.” Charles agrees.

“I mean, honestly what the fuck does he think he’s doing. Acting like he got an interest in F1.”

Charles listens as she starts to rant, having clearly waited for him, and he listens as undresses. Gathering his clothes up as her voice increases in volume and he gently tugs her with him into the bathroom, turning on the shower before easily lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her hands pausing their gesturing to run over his arms in thanks before she continues.

She rants through his brief shower, nearly slipping when she begins to read out texts between her and her brother.

“He is pissed?” His voice is nearly high, head poking out of the shower to look at her with wide eyes.

Butterfly looks at him in confusion, head cocked to the side. “Baby, of course. Your family. We don’t stand for shit like this against family.”

Charles can’t even point out that said shit is just an insta story of Drake saying he’s betting on him to win the grand prix, because he knows it feels deeper than that, especially with Drake’s history of betting. His mind is far too focused on the word family.

“I’m family?”

She lets out a laugh, tongue running over her teeth. “Baby, you got with me right before one of the worst times for our family and stuck through it. You never had to prove yourself, but that did it. You're stuck with all of us now.”

He feels warm all over at the words and he ducks his back into the shower, quickly rinsing off before climbing out, barely remembering to put a towel around his waist before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her hands eagerly run over his back, legs opening to pull him closer and he tries to keep his upper body away from her, not wanting to get her shirt wet, but she pulls him closer and he can’t resist her, has never been able to.

“You’ve made me all wet.” She teases when they break apart.

He tries to apologize, but then she’s taking his hand and pressing it between them, against her leggings, and the feeling of wetness pulls a moan from the back of his throat.

“You are very lucky that I don’t listen to Andrea.”

“Very lucky.” She agrees.

—

“K said you had an idea.”

Charles lets out a hum, fingers trailing over her ribs.

“He wouldn’t tell me what.”

His fingers pause. “I was thinking instead of staying in Vegas tomorrow we go and see him.”

“We leave for Qatar on Monday.”

“We can make it back to Vegas in time for our flight. It’s barely a two-hour flight from there to here.”

This time she hums.

“Can we go public?”

He nearly chokes. “What?”

“Public, I want to go public. We had kind of talked about doing it before Monaco next season, but things have changed a bit.”

“Because I’m family.”

She laughs, “Yeah, baby, because your family.”

“What if we do a uh soft launch?”

“A soft launch?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a picture with your brother for my insta stories, start following you, you follow me back.” Excitement starts to build as he speaks.

“I post a little something about being in Qatar.”

“We do a little date night in Abu Dhabi.”

She hums, “You kiss me after you win Abu Dhabi.”

“You think I’m going to win?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. First Ferrari driver to win there and you’ll overtake Norris in the standings and maybe Ferrari will finish P2 in the constructors.”

“I like this plan.”

She smiles. “I like it too.”

—

—

—

—

“Yes Charles!”

“Yes!” He screams over the radio. “Where did Carlos finish? Where did Norris, Oscar?” He wants to celebrate the win, but the constructors and drivers are far more important.

“Carlos P6, Norris P3, Oscar P10. You are second in the drivers. And we are second in constructors, 2 points between you and Norris, four points between us and McLaren.”

“Fuck.” The excitement in him is simmered with resentment. Four points was all it came down to and of course it wasn’t in their favor.

“Charles, Charles,” Fred’s voice is thick over the radio. “You did fantastic, another win for you and an amazing drive!”

He smiles, taking his hands off to wave at fans as he slowly moves around the track. Italian easily spilling from his lips as he thanks Fred, Bryan, the mechanics, engineers and the whole team.

It’s satisfying to pull his car to the number one spot as Lando takes off his helmet, jaw twitching. Charles wants to shake him because how can he be this focused on second in the drivers when him and his team won the constructors. He stares at him for a second before getting out of the car and throwing himself into his teams arms.

They easily catch him, hands patting all over, his name spilling off lips over and over again. They grip him tighter before letting him go to take off his helmet and balaclava.

The air is refreshing against his face and normally he's taking a drink of water, starting to put back on jewelry, but today he’s searching through the crowd of red, heart thumping when he finally notices her.

She’s to the side, beaming at him as Bryan stands on her left while his mom and brothers stand to her right. And he goes to her.

His hands easily going to her face, holding it gently before kissing her.

She’s mumbling something against his lips and he wants to know what, but he can’t stop kissing her. Not when she’s clutching at his arms, pressing closer to him. But a nudge to the ribs makes him pull away, breathless, and his tongue runs over his swollen lips.

“So proud of you, baby! So fucking proud!” She yells at him as he’s pulled away for a post race interview and he can’t help but blow her a kiss, happy to have won in front of her for the first time and in front of his family again.

[mattsbows]

nurse!reader. . .babying matt while he's sick ♡

"this is so stupid," matt groaned, pulling the comforter closer to his red nose. "i was literally fine yesterday."

you hummed softly, popping a cold and flu tablet out of the plastic and passing it to him. "that is the way sicknesses tend to work." you chuckled.

your boyfriend groaned, laying his head back against the pillow after he had taken the medicine. "i hate this." he groaned before being cut off by a chesty cough.

"you gotta stay hydrated, sweetheart. it'll get rid of the cough," you told matt, brushing some of his hair off his sweltering forehead. "hot tea, water, or juice?"

"mmmm, root beer."

"i don't think root beer is going to hydrate you. besides sugar isn't good for your immune system."

matt huffed, clearly agitated with his illness, despite the fact that it was a common cold. "why do you know everything? you're like a walking nursing textbook."

"i did go to nursing school. look at the RN next to my name." you giggled.

in spite of himself, matt found a soft smile creeping onto his face at your giggles. he was beyond lucky to have you, and he was even more lucky that his sickness had decided to wait until one of your days off to rear its ugly head.

"i guess some hot tea would be nice, please." he mumbled, throat wheezy from all the congestion.

you smiled at your sucessful attempt to get matt to relax. "one hot tea with extra honey and lemon coming right up," before you left the room, you laid your cheek against your boyfriend's warm forehead. "fever of 101.2." you stated.

"since when are you a thermometer?"

"wanna bet?" you challenged.

all throughout nursing school and even now in your job, you'd found that you had a special skill for being accurate in checking temperatures nearly all the time, even with just the touch of your hand. you plucked the thermometer off matt's nightstand, sliding it under his tongue and waiting for the beep.

"101.3!" you cheered as the device beeped. "i was close."

"okay, okay. you were right." matt chuckled, letting out a sneeze.

"try to rest, baby," you mumbled, planting a kiss on his stubble-covered cheek. "i'm gonna go make your tea and get a cool rag for you."

matt pulled the covers around himself more as he watched you leave the room, wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky to not only have a nurse as his girlfriend, but the best nurse as his girlfriend.

a note from the author: i literally love nurse!reader sm, she's my baby<3 i hope you all enjoy ♡

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz

© mattsbows

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Boyfriend!Sukuna was definitely not a shy man.

As someone who had tried every possible way to embarrass him, neither your actions nor your words ever worked. Every time, he’d look at you with the same seriousness—or even mild annoyance. Did you truly believe you could make him blush? It was ridiculous. There was no way someone as towering and unshakable as him would ever feel embarrassed to the point of turning red. It was simply impossible.

But for you, “impossible” was just a word.

You were leaning against his broad chest, sitting in his lap, as the two of you watched the snow falling onto the garden from your terrace. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the touchy type, but when you insisted, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, you’ve never been embarrassed?” you asked, your gaze fixed on the snow as it blanketed the greenery outside. Your question earned a low grunt from him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to ruin the moment,” he replied, pausing briefly before adding, “Three minutes and forty-one seconds. Congrats, brat, you broke your previous record.”

His words made you laugh so hard your body shook, though Sukuna couldn’t understand what was so funny about his dead-serious comment. You were a peculiar one, that was for sure.

Suddenly, you shifted in his lap, moving to straddle him. His large hands instinctively settled on your waist, steadying you.

Who would’ve thought being held by four hands could feel this good?

As your fingers trailed through his pink, messy hair, Sukuna’s eyes fluttered shut—something he couldn’t help but do whenever you touched his hair. It always brought him an unexplainable calm, a sense of peace he found nowhere else.

“I’m good at breaking records,” you teased, a bright smile lighting up your face. Sukuna didn’t open his eyes, but you caught the faintest upward twitch of his lips—a rare, fleeting moment of softness.

“I can see that. You surprise me more and more every day, you cheeky brat.” The crimson eyes that most people found cursed and terrifying locked onto yours, though you found them utterly irresistible. While he’d never admit it, seeing you smile made everything in his world feel a little brighter.

Slowly, he leaned in, nuzzling his head against the soft curve of your neck. His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and he planted a gentle kiss there, letting his teeth graze your skin ever so slightly.

“Just one touch…” His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “One single touch is enough to turn your neck red. I’d bet your cheeks are even redder than your neck right now.”

He was right. Your cheeks were undoubtedly burning like wildfire. You knew your face had turned a shade rivaling a clown’s red nose.

“Kuna—”

“I want you right here.” His deep voice resonated through you. “Watching the snow while I bury myself inside your warm, tight little pussy.”

If you stayed like this any longer, everything he said would probably happen. You were already sore from last night. Besides, it was Christmas Day, and you wanted to do something other than just have sex with your boyfriend.

With great difficulty, you pulled his massive head away from you. If he wanted to stop you, he could have, but if he did, he’d probably have to endure you complaining to him for two hours.

Still holding his head, you scolded him, “Nuh-uh. Last night you nearly broke my back.” Furrowing your brows, you let go of his head and stood up. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, and don’t even try that ‘I don’t like sweet things’ excuse. I know who ate the Oreo Milka I bought two days ago.”

As you walked off the terrace toward the kitchen, you called out loudly, “Be a good boy, Sukuna, and maybe I’ll let you have me on the terrace later.”

Magic words didn’t always have to be “please.” After all, the word “please” didn’t even exist in Sukuna’s vocabulary. But if he had to pick one magical phrase, it would undoubtedly be “good boy.”

Those two words were enough to make your supposedly unshakable boyfriend blush furiously and feel his heart race in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d called him “good boy,” but every time you did, he somehow managed to hide his face, avoiding your gaze.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who made others kneel at his feet, who inspired fear with his towering figure and unmatched strength, could turn into a shy mess with just two simple words from you: “good boy.”

a little note: can i get a little commotion for my red ribbon divider 😌

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[aurorawhisperz]

I Just Wanna See You Shine (r.c.)

contains: smut (18+), swearing.

rafe cameron x overachiever!reader

summary: everyone counted on you to be the valedictorian, the go-to for tough subjects and the one who never got in trouble. one day, rafe cameron had came up to you for some tutoring but it turns out he was just paying for the pleasure of your company.

i just wanna see you shine ‘cause i know you are a stargirl.

if everybody was betting on valedictorian, everybody would be betting on you. you were the one person who had it all figured out; high grades, perfect attendance, a reputation for never stepping out of line.

no drama. no distractions. no boyfriend. you were the only person who actually cared about deadlines, assignments and getting into a good college even as a rich kid.

at kildare academy, no one really cared about what you did or didn’t do. everyone was rich, privileged, and used to getting what they wanted.

graduation wasn’t a huge deal; chances for success were handed to you with a silver spoon. the kooks had money, connections, and opportunities waiting for them at every turn. even if they flunked a test, they’d still get into the best colleges, all thanks to their families’ influence and wealth.

people didn’t expect much from your personal life, if anything, they just assumed you didn’t have one, too busy studying to bother with parties or boys. and even if you did, rafe cameron would be the last name anyone would think of.

he was everything you weren’t; wild, reckless, the kind of guy who didn’t care about grades or the future. he drove fast cars, lived life with no sense of direction. and you? you were the complete opposite.

right now, you’d find yourself breaking a rule you swore you’d never cross, all because of that stupid boy.

you knew he was up to no good the minute he slipped those silver glasses off of your face.

this was the tenth-ish guttural moan rafe had let out. his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he feels your walls squeezing around him. rafe was completely lost to the need, the primal desire for you. the one thing missing from his great list of achievements. his body strained with the effort to resist the urge to take you, to make you his.

rafe was completely at your mercy, completely undone, his body twitching with need as you moved your hips against him. his eyes were locked onto yours, his stare desperate and pleading, his voice a ragged whisper as he moaned your name over and over again, each repetition edged with a hint of desperation, as if he couldn’t stand to be without you for even a moment.

“why are you so fucking good at this?” he breathed out, a little surprised, but also impressed. his mouth hanging open with every movement.

“one terrible experience,” you replied matter-of-factly. “i didn’t bother with anyone else. i don’t waste time. i’m a fast learner, though. especially when it comes to… watching. visual things tend to stick.”

you never would’ve imagined that rafe cameron, the kook prince, the guy who practically owned kildare island, would be wrapped around your little finger. but somehow, he was.

his mouth watered as you leaned over him, your boobs hovering so close to his mouth. his hands clenching around the bedsheets, his body rigid as he waits for you to say something.

rafe swallowed hard, his breath coming in quick gasps, his entire body tense and straining with the effort to hold back. the effort to stop himself from rolling you both over and to stop himself from fucking you so dirty, but in this moment, rafe was completely under your control, and he knows it. he can't help but want you.

“you can touch me.” you held onto his shoulder for some sense of control as you continued rolling your hips. rafe let out a low, guttural moan as you gave him permission, his eyes closing briefly as he waited for you to descend closer. then he leaned upwards, taking your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he suckles you, his hands moving to your hips, holding you in place.

rafe’s hips bucked up into you as he slid himself deeper, his voice a low, ragged moan. “you feel so good..” he gasps. “feel so damn good…i can’t get enough of you…fuck…”

“yeah?” your thumb moved to rub over his bottom lip. “can’t get enough of me?”

rafe’s hands grabbed at your hips, his touch nearly painful.

“we’re gonna do this again, and again, and again, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he thrusted up into you. “all” slap. “night.” slap. “long.” slap.

you pulled on your clothes, moving quietly as rafe laid there, worn out and more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. but that smile tugging at the creases of his lips—his smirk that you knew so well was still there. his voice broke the silence, his tone lazy, but with that familiar edge of smugness. “looks like i got something, or someone, to add to my collection,” he said, the words carrying a challenge, as though he was satisfied by the moment but still trying to hold some control.

as you reached for your shoes, he propped himself up on one elbow, his voice thick with that cocky tone as he started running his mouth again. “well, well, look at you. the overachiever, the one everybody thought was untouchable, sucked right into my world.” rafe let out a low chuckle and his eyes locked onto yours. "guess it fits the narrative. you were the only thing missing from the story.”

you stood up, slipping on your shoes but you couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips even if his words punched your ego so badly.

moving closer, you leaned down slightly, lowering your voice to a seductive whisper. "if you tell anyone," you said, your words deliberate, "i’ll have to tell them about how you were so willing to submit and how you were shaking and almost crying under my control.”

without giving him a chance to say anything back, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, a short one but it left a spark behind. you walked confidently to the door, not glancing back until you reached the threshold.

“see you around, kook prince,” you tossed your bag over your shoulder. rafe shifted, a devilish smirk lighting up his face, and replied with that trademark cockiness, “see you around, princess.”

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

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[mqrrstarr]

Gladiator Headcanons! (1/?)

How the Characters would act if you: Had A Cold!

Character x GN! Reader

Warnings: s3x implied

Characters Featured: Maximus, Lucilla, Commodus, Acacius, Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Macrinus (edited: I never actually wrote anything for him but I did now)

A/N: First Tumblr post in a while, and I'm actually writing things too! This is the first time I've written elaborate headcanons, so please forgive if they seem a little off. I apologize for any historical/character innacuracies, and I hope to get better!! xoxo -mqrrstarr

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Maximus would immediately notice something is off. You kept complaining about a headache that didn’t seem to stop, and your temperature was high. 

“Darling, I don’t think you should fight today…”

You could only cough in response, and the guards wouldn’t let you rest. As the day’s challenge was fighting in pairs, he rapidly volunteered to fight with you. Maximus protected you from the other gladiators, and killed them as fast as you could sneeze. By the end of the day, Maximus gave you his blanket and other amenities, ushering you to a more comfier cell. (He had placed a bet with another gladiator.)

“There darling, rest up nice and easy.”

I can also see Maximus getting the other gladiators to create a soup/stew sort of mixture. Not good. But he’s very fatherly, if you can get that?

- - - - - - - -

Lucilla knows everything. After taking care of Lucius as a child, she can rapidly tell when you’re not feeling well.

“Sweetie? Do you feel alright?”

She’d do the mom thing, put her hand on your forehead and try to figure out what was wrong with you. Your head was practically boiling, so she’d get her servants to make tea, lay you in her triclinium and keep you company.

“The servants will prove useful sweetie. You’re a strong warrior, so keep hanging on.”

She’d hum a lullaby, read poetry (the same she’d read to Lucius) and tell stories until you fell asleep. 

- - - - - - - -

Commodus was rarely comforted growing up, so he knew how to handle sickness easily. Growing up semi-independent, he knew homemade tricks and tips to feel better.

“Y/N, are you not feeling well? Just get some herbs and drink an elixir. You’ll be fine.”

He realizes that he sounds a bit harsh, and reminds himself that he never wants to treat you how he was treated; with solitude and no gratitude. Commodus gets you all the snacks and food you want, and even hugs you for as long as you want. 

When you question him after it’s been a whole afternoon of him on your chest, he simply says,

“Y/N, do not question the Emperor. I wish to lay with you, and I do not fear sickness. The Gods can protect one of their own.”

He keeps hugging you and falls asleep, and the next day you’re both coughing and sneezing. 

- - - - - - - -

Acacius has been through so many battles and massacres, yet he’s never truly encountered a cold. The soldiers that cough, are usually dead. Coughing up their own blood, that is. He really doesn’t know how to help you properly, but he’ll try his best.

“Angel, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’m not really sure what to do. Should I get a doctor? Are you feeling a certain way?”

and as he says this, Acacius would use his hands to caress yours, and treat you even more like a princess/prince. He’d lay you in his own bed, and give you massages until you’d feel better. He’d also do a little more if you’d want. Iykyk. You’d fall asleep quickly, and you’d wake up to Acacius either next to you, or on a chair by the bedside and he’d be all sprawled out. His soldier senses would wake him up though.

“Angel? Angel? You’re all right now, that’s wonderful. My lovely Venus, you’re all healed.”

And his words, he would seal with a forehead kiss. GOD HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART I NEED PEDRO PASCAL

- - - - - - - -

Caracalla had his own sickness, the one of syphilis. His wild mentality usually was what kept him going, and the love of ruling over Rome. Yet the Emperor cared for his significant other, and refused to let anyone else; even his closest servants touch you.

“My Wife/Husband, the most holiest of them all, I shall take care of you. Please tell me what your most vivid desires are? Allow me to assist you.”

He’s such a sweetheart, and he’d definitely tell you so many stories of him and Geta in their childhood, Roman mythology, and anything to keep you entertained. As he also has mommy and daddy issues, he also do a Commodus-esque move and lay on your chest and probably fall asleep first haha. When the both of you awake, he'd hear your stomach rumble.

“You’re hungry? Well then I shall feed you. Anything for you my love.”

He’d keep you filled with food and him to help your weak state. (CARACALLA COME HOME THE KIDS AND I MISS YOU)

- - - - - - - -

Geta was always stressed.  Getting much more to do as Emperor, as Caracalla had his own “duties” to fulfill. When you started coughing and sneezing as you strolled in the palace garden, he’d send the servants away to prepare a room where you could quarantine. As much as he loved you, he’d refuse to get sick. (Rome needs a healthy representation.) So you’d be alone the first few days with the occasional knock on the door. When you seemed less sick than before, he’d spend all the time with you.

“My love? I’m here for you. The Gods have finally allotted time for our get together. It will be only the finest in Rome for the night; us.”

He’d definitely turn the situation into a fun (fucking) night and then the days after that would be a cycle of laying together, fine dining meals, and caressing. (your bodies, of course.) When he has to return to his Emperor duties, he’ll leave with a long romantic and passionate kiss, one that made your entire body warm.

“Won’t be long. I’ll be back in the night.”

(if you couldn't tell i love the idea of geta as needy all the time)

- - - - - - - -

Lucius knew what it was like to feel sick and tired constantly, so he took care of you. Like a shepherd tending to his favorite sheep. Both of you grand warriors and gladiators, so there was no time to feel bad. He reassured you he could fight without you, and vowed to come back every time.

“Dearest, I promise to return safely. I couldn’t leave my soul with you, it has to be me truly here always. I vow on our love to fight for freedom and the peace of Rome. I will also fight for you.”

You trusted Lucius, (WHO WOULDN’T WITH THOSE BLUE EYES) and he is a man of his word. Day after day, you slowly healed and was able to rejoin Lucius and the others again.

“See? I knew you’d heal. The Gods give power to those who are great. And you are great.”

You fought as usual, but he’d still protect you a little more to ensure you were actually okay. 

- - - - - - - -

Macrinus would see you and get together some gladiators in your presence, hoping they would entertain you and help you ignore the pain.

“Sickness is nothing but temporary Y/N. You can and have the power to move on.”

You’d take his advice and eventually keep doing your work as his assistant, and he’d make sure you were well taken care of.

“Y/N? A true warrior does not dawdle. Good job keeping up with your tasks.”

Surprisingly, you were able to keep up with work and healed faster than expected. (THERE I WROTE FOR MACRINUS)

[myownwholewildworld]

pretty nails — a javier peña oneshot

main masterlist pairing: javier peña x f!reader. summary: javi pays for your manicure 😏 a/n: look, we all know pedro is obsessed with nails, but so is javier fucking peña. so there's that, that's the whole plot lmao i just needed to flush this idea out of my system so i could live my life in peace. comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. handjob. oral (m! receiving). implied face-sitting/oral (f! receiving). no use of y/n. no description of reader. w/c: 964 (a small drabble to get us in the xmas spirit) divider by @\saradika-graphics

“Show ‘em to me again, encanto (dear),” Javi’s voice was charged with huskiness, rumbling in his chest thickly.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at him. This man was a menace to all your senses, but you had absolutely no complaints.

Javier had insisted on accompanying you to the manicure appointment. He sat with you the whole time, helping you decide the theme and the design. You both agreed that a Christmas set was most fitting with the holiday season fast approaching — a base of red with touches of white and an obscene number of charms decorated your coffin nails. Javi had really gone wild with the choices, way more excited than you were.

And this was why. As much as it was his gift to you, it was also to himself.

You curled your fingers around his hard erection, your pretty nails sparkling under the dimmed light of his bedroom. The velvety skin underneath your touch was burning with desire, and so were you.

Your left hand sprawled across his lower tummy, showing him the art on your nails as your thumb stroked his happy trail. Your digits lazily worked his throbbing shaft, the head glistening with precum although you had only barely started. A white pearl topped his glans, inviting and seducing.

“Encanto, se ven tan bonitas alrededor de mi polla, (they look so beautiful around my cock),” Javi rasped, his dick pulsing on your hand.

Tittering again, you gave him a shy nod.

“Bet they do, you’ve got good taste,” you agreed, pumping him slowly.

Leaning down, your tongue darted out quickly and licked the precum off his cockhead, eager to swallow him whole. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his dick, you glanced up at him for permission.

He tutted at you.

“Not yet, cariño (darling). Put ‘em to work a bit more for me, please,” his low tone bubbled up his throat with need.

You obliged, your left hand joining your right around his cock. You jerked him off unhurriedly, petting the swollen balls underneath with your plump lips from time to time. His hips bucked up into the warmth of your tight fist, his heartbeat pulsing through the thick vein on the underside of his dick.

Javi groaned, lustful chocolate eyes looking down at your nails. His lips curled into a wicked smile and his thumb drew an invisible line under your chin.

“Are you salivating already, hm?”

You shook your head yes, doe-eyed and plush lips pressed into a fine line.

“Go ahead then, encanto,” he spurred you on.

With no time to waste, almost drooling now, you lapped the underside of his throbbing cock, then sealed your mouth around the plumpness of his tip, suckling on him. You moaned around his thudding girth, hollowing your cheeks to push your head further down his length, until his coarse hairs were tickling the tip of your nose.

Javi groaned like a mad man, revelling in the wet warmth of your mouth. His hand caressed the back of your head, enticing but not forcing. You bobbed on his lap, his dick sinking further down your throat — your mouth was full of him, precum and spit gathering on the corners, overflowing.

His musky, woody scent drove you wild, and you could only swallow him, gently squeezing his balls with your fingers, rubbing them delicately the way you knew he loved.

Your clit was now twitching, begging to be paid attention in your slick seam. In an attempt to soothe the ever-growing need between your thighs, one of your hands moved away from Javi’s testicles to slither it down between your body and the bedsheets. But the moment you did, Javi’s thick fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh, encanto. You’re gonna hurt her with those pretty nails. Sigue chupando y te daré tu recompensa (keep on sucking and I’ll reward you),” he promised, almost choking on his own words.

That was everything you needed to unleash. Sloppily, you devoured his cock — licking, lapping, suckling, tapping it on your tongue whenever you needed a breather. Every time you went down, Javi met you mid-way with a gentle thrust, grunting between gritted teeth and a painfully clenched jaw. One hand stroked the base of his cock, the other cradled his full, aching balls.

Then he finally dissolved in your mouth, ropes of thick white filling you up as you suckled on his flushed, angry tip. You kept on draining him, milking him dry, until he had no more cum to feed you. Then you gulped down all of it.

Unsealing your lips, you looked up at him and batted your eyelashes exaggeratedly, almost innocently. Javi moaned at the sight, swiping the trickle of cum on the corner of your mouth to feed it back to you. You sucked his thumb clean, the pad pressing down on your tongue.

“Gonna need to have your nails done at all times for me, babe,” he husked. “And I’ll need to go with you every single time, make sure you aren’t holding back on anything. I don’t care how much they cost.”

You climbed up his body to trap his mouth with yours. Javi’s hands fell on either side of your hips, grabbing the flesh eagerly as you humped his hairy upper thigh, looking for relief.

You whimpered, frustrated. You were drenched, leaking on his thigh, your clit crying for attention now.

“Whatever you want, Javi, pero me prometiste… (but you promised me…),” you trailed off, biting down your bottom lip as you kept on rubbing against his skin.

Javi chuckled, grazing your chin with his bare teeth as he sank further down the bed until he was completely horizontal under you.

“Lo prometido es deuda (a promise is a promise), encanto. Come sit on my face.”

[dontopenfairies]

“Hey, what’s going on with you? Ohh, you’re pooping.” She grabbed his head and pulled it onto her lap. “Good boy for going in your diaper. Little baby, huh?” She reached her hand into the back of his shorts. “Wow, you really loaded it up this time. That’s a lot.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing it close to the scalp and tugging at it every so often. “Tell you what,” she said after a few moments of peace on her lap, “if you’re going to go that much why don’t I just change you into your overnight diaper early? Does that sound good?” He nodded against her lap and she started to stand up. He pulled his head up reluctantly and sat up on the couch.

She pulled him to his feet and he started to walk towards the bedroom. He didn’t make it very far before she grabbed his arms and pinned them to the sides of his body. “No way you’re walking. If you’re going to act so little I’m going to carry you.” With a little bit of struggle she managed to pick him up bridal style.

“You can lift me, but are you sure you can carry me to the bedroom?”

“Shh,” she said sternly, walking him out of the room and down the hallway. In the bedroom she let him down hard on his changing mat, a little rough, but not enough to knock the wind out of him.

He liked how rough she was being with him and she could tell, lifting his hips without warning.

Nothing eventful happened during the change except that he dribbled a little bit of pee, which was embarrassing. “Aw, you’re starting to have trouble controlling it,” she said.

Once he was all diapered again, she dressed him in pajamas and carried him back out to the living room. “See, working out is starting to pay off,” she said, letting him down on the couch and withdrawing her arms.

“Is that why you’re going to the gym so much now?” he asked. “Just so you can carry me?”

“I mean, it’s kind of a perk,” she said, sitting down next to him and pulling him onto her lap.

“Can it be the only reason?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be the only reason. Aw, you’re feeling super little right now, aren’t you?” She pet his hair away from his forehead and he closed his eyes, leaning into her shoulder. “Use your diaper anytime you want,” she said. “It’s a little early for it but I don’t mind changing you again. I mean, we haven’t even had dinner yet, and you know what usually happens after we eat dinner…”

“I have to go again after dinner,” he said.

“Yeah, you usually have to go again after we eat. But that’s okay. Here, drink a little bit of water.” She reached out for his water on the table and he clung onto her as she leaned forward. She flipped the cap off and held it up so he could drink. “You’re going to have a good day at work tomorrow, aren’t you? I bet you’ll sleep really good tonight after I baby you.”

“I’m already getting sleepy.”

“Uh-huh, aren’t you? I can tell. Stay awake so we can eat, okay?”

“I can stay awake. I just need to rest for a second…”

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: Photoshoot #4 - Such a Blessing - Kalim

Summary: Your fourth photoshoot was with Kalim and actually involved an outfit traditional to Scalding Sands culture. And, fittingly, you ended up recreating a wedding picture of Kalim’s parents as a light rain started to fall over you both.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 904

Crewel tilted his head, frowning slightly as he looked between me and the perfectly giddy Kalim, who already had my hand clasped in his warm one.

“I wasn’t sure about designing a bridal outfit that is more traditional to the Scalding Sands, but…. I think it’s worked out rather nicely,” Crewel finally nodded as he spoke, and I glanced down at the shirt and skirt, or rather, lehenga, that I wore.

Brilliant red with shiny gold embroidery covering both the short-sleeved bodice and the perfectly massive lehenga skirt that had about three layers in total.

“I think it looks great! If you want, I can give you some more jewelry to wear with it to complete the look!” Kalim looked between me and Crewel excitedly.

Both of us shook our heads hurriedly, apparently agreeing that I was already bedecked in enough gold, even as Kalim frowned in obvious confusion before he quickly recovered, “So what are we going to be doing?”

Crewel tilted his head as he eyed us, “Hmm, I was considering something that would show off the full breadth of the skirt, but now that we’re here……”

“I could kiss Y/n on the cheek!” I blinked at Kalim’s words in surprise, turning to look his way as he outright beamed at Crewel, who stared back at him in surprise that was similar to mine.

Kalim continued though, happily explaining himself as he glanced between me and our instructor, “I’ve seen my parent’s wedding pictures, and one of my mom’s favorites has my dad kissing her on the cheek! She always looks so happy when she sees that picture. In fact, her smile is the exact same as the one she has in the picture!”

Crewel nodded, still looking half-surprised as his gaze met mine and I lifted my shoulder in a half-shrug, largely unbothered by Kalim’s suggestions. It wasn’t like it would be the first time he gave me a kiss of some sort to display his occasionally overwhelming affection,  “Well, it sounds like a cute enough picture; it’s your line of wedding clothes, though.”

“No, it suits me if you’re fine with it.” The instructor shook his head at my words as he continued, “I’ll go tell the photographer, so you two can get in position whenever you’re ready.”

I felt myself smile slightly as I glanced back over towards Kalim only to find the young man already smiling brightly at me.

His hand found mine, clasping it tightly as he continued to beam, “Mom’ll be so happy when she sees these pictures! I bet she’ll want to meet you and everything!”

I felt myself chuckle slightly at his joyful nature even as I tilted my head at him, “Did you already tell your parents that you were going to be a model for Crewel’s line of bridal clothes?”

He shook his head, laughing in that perfectly carefree nature of his, “Nah, but my mom likes looking at wedding dresses, so I know she’ll see the images! She says wedding pictures make her happy.”

“We’re going to have to take these pictures quickly since it’s getting overcast. Are you two ready?” I straightened at the photographer's words. But he was right. Dark clouds were already overhead, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would mess up the lighting for the pictures.

At odds with worries, Kalim was wholly unbothered as he glanced up towards the heavens above us, “Oh, do you think it’ll rain? That would make for a really great picture!”

I glanced at him, half-confused by his words as I frowned slightly, tilting my head at the perpetually bubbly young man, “Because a rainy wedding day is supposed to be good luck?”

He laughed at my words, shaking his head, “No, I just think it would be nice. Rain is always such a blessing after all.”

His red eyes were bright as he grinned at me. Almost brighter than the red of my outfit, and I felt myself smile at his words. Idly wondering how he could be quite so positive about everything, even as I nodded, finding myself squeezing his hand slightly as I spoke, “Let’s hope for the best then.”

He squeezed my hand lightly in return, his expression briefly softening before he looked back over towards where Crewel and the photographer both stood and waved with his free hand, “We’re ready!”

The photographer gave a thumbs up and held up his camera at almost the same time it started to drizzle.

And though I had no idea how he managed to time it quite so perfectly, Kalim tugged me over and kissed me lightly on the cheek, causing me to laugh slightly at his eagerness at the precise moment that the camera flashed. Capturing and immortalizing the moment for eternity as Kalim burst into laughter from beside me.

Wholly unbothered by the rain that was steadily picking up even as Crewel shook his head at us with a distinctly fond smile. But at this point, I felt like most people were fond of Kalim.

Because when it came right down to it, it was hard to be frustrated with Kalim, and the young man always seemed to cause people to smile when he was nearby.

And even without either Crewel or the photographer saying anything as they both peered at the picture on the camera’s screen, I had no doubts that the photograph was perfect.

If you would like to read more:

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[pastanest]

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

A/N: bet you hoes thought you’d seen the last of me x

tw: allusions to sa but no actual acts committed, just the fear of what men can do

Instincts

The moment you regain consciousness, your survival instincts are kicking in. Before even opening your eyes, you are aware that wherever you are right now, Daryl is not with you; there are binds on your wrists that keep them at your back and binds at your ankles to stop you from running - if Daryl was anywhere nearby, there’s no way in Hell you’d still be restrained. The right side of your face feels cold, pressed against a concrete floor. The left side of your face feels hot, stemming from a particular point just above your temple - point of impact, blood, possible concussion. How you got here is unclear; it would be a waste of time to focus on that.

Blinking as hard as you can, you clear your blurry, barely conscious vision. Four walls, two windows on the left and right, one door on the wall in front of you, off-centre to the left. Naturally, you are curled in the furthest corner from the door, where you appear to have been thrown, because you have no memory of army-crawling your bound self over here. There’s a silver lining if you’ve ever seen one: your back is not exposed, you can focus entirely on what’s in front of you. Namely, the three idiots who thought tying you up in wherever this is, was a good idea. Your brain is fighting hard to recognise any of their faces, but you can’t - they must have snuck up on you. And they wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on Daryl, so they must have waited for you to separate from him and snuck up on you. Blood running cold isn’t a new feeling since the world ended, but it feels entirely different now.

Even in the world before, any girl’s survival instincts would go haywire if she woke up in an unfamiliar room, tied up by three unfamiliar men. Particularly when you realise they could have covered your mouth, but they haven’t, because they aren’t as worried about you screaming as they are in need of that particular body part. But there’s one thing the end of the world brought you that will change the predicted outcome of your current situation..

“Jus’ sit tight.” Daryl forced one of his knives into your trembling hands, thinking you and your wide eyes looked like the kind of doe too pretty to kill - Merle called him a pussy the first (and only) time he’d used that excuse as a boy.

“B-But, what if-“ You were stuttering in a way Daryl got, but he’d never felt in your place.

Out in the world was where he belonged. That world ending didn’t change that for him, just meant he had to share it with a whole lot more uglies, and…some people that weren’t ugly in the slightest. Fighting for his life is what he’d always done, he wasn’t afraid of that, but folks like you? He knew from one look in your terrified eyes, you’d never felt fear like this. The kind that paralyses you. And Daryl recognised you had every right to feel that: the world you knew had ended, you were thrown into a makeshift camp with total strangers, grieving the family you’d lost and trying to find some sense of normality when the walkers came from the woods. You saw them get Amy, and you froze, because as much as you frantically looked around the camp, you knew Daryl wasn’t there. The one person you felt you could turn to for protection, the one time he left camp to go and look for his asshole of a brother. And you couldn’t cry out. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. A walker was stumbling towards you and you barely had it in you to take slow, unsteady steps back from it. The bolt that was shot through its skull was one you recognised, and in a blur you were grabbed, dragged until your back was no longer exposed and was instead against the wall of the RV.

“I won’t let ‘em.” Daryl answered you, leaving no room for you to argue even in your panicked state.

All you could do was nod, trembling hands gripping his knife.

“Jus’ sit tight, lemme handle it. Don’t draw attention.” Daryl instructed in the typical gruff fashion you’d already become accustomed to.

And he did as promised. Bolt after bolt from his crossbow flew through the air, bullets from the gun he carried and the guns in the hands of the others, too, took down the walkers that had invaded the home you had all been foolish enough to believe was safe. And when it was all over, Daryl came right back to you. It was actually difficult for him to get his knife back from your shaking hands, they were gripping it so hard. He could tell by your breathing you were in some sort of shock, so he did the one thing he remembered his mama doing for him when he was real small and cut his knee bad: he pulled you into his arms. And it wasn’t awkward, just like it hadn’t been when he was a boy, because it was needed. That reminder that you were safe. He needed that just as much as you did.

Years have passed since then. Or, at least, your best guess at years. You’re stronger now, more independent, more resourceful, and you can protect yourself. But in this moment, bound and trapped, your instinct to start shit talking is overshadowed by those exact words from Daryl when you’d felt this same uncertainty in his absence: sit tight. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your survival is governed by a version of Daryl in your subconscious. Slowly so as to not draw attention to yourself, you shuffle yourself around until you’re sitting up in the corner of the room, with your bound legs bent to your chest. Your tied wrists at your back are concealed by the rest of you, and as futile as the effort might be, you start picking at the rope from any awkward angle you can in an effort to loosen it. Raising your eyebrows up and down a few times, you can feel the tug of your wound, and the beginnings of dried blood crusting around it - you’ve been here, unconscious, more than a few minutes, but the heat of fresh blood you can still feel means you’ve not been here very long.

“Would you look at that, our girl’s back with us!” One of the men jeers, smacking the back of one of the others to get him looking over at you.

If Daryl was here and heard them call you that, they’d be dead already. That thought gives you a small amount of comfort.

“Awh, cat got your tongue, little lady? C’mon, don’t be shy!” The third man smirks at you, and as he starts walking over to you, your knees instinctively draw closer to your chest.

It takes everything in you not to react when he crouches down in front of you, one of his hands grabbing your jaw. You want to spit right in his face, but that would only escalate things beyond your control. Sit tight, sit tight. You focus on your breathing. Focus on looking past this ugly fucker, through him, to the door on the opposite side of the room. Hoping, willing, praying; dissociating.

“Pretty thing like you needs some strong men lookin’ after her.”

Unfortunately, you’re not dissociated enough to miss those words from the man still crouched in front of you. But you’re grateful for that, because if you had been, you might’ve missed the subtlest creak from just outside the door. A moment’s pause. A second’s silence. And then the door slams against the wall, kicked open by a boot you barely have time to recognise before a bolt head from Daryl’s crossbow appears right between the eyes of the man who had been crouched in front of you, but is now a crumpled corpse on the floor.

“She don’t.” Daryl grunts.

The other two guys are quick to recover from their shock, attempting to tackle Daryl together, but he’s faster. They think this is his first rodeo? Man…you almost feel sorry for them. Except for the fact you don’t. At all.

You probably shouldn’t take any amount of joy in seeing Daryl easily take down two other guys with his bare hands, but it’s hard to shake the warmth that spreads through you, seeing and accepting the fact that he’s come to get you. That he didn’t stop looking until he found you, and the moment he did, he was ready for war. Punching both the guys down, Daryl’s quick to grab his crossbow from where he’d dropped it in favour of beating these guys to death, and fires another bolt into one of the guy’s stomachs. Leaves him to fall to the floor while Daryl drops his crossbow again and tackles the only man left standing, straddling him and throwing punch after punch after punch, until everything’s red. Guy’s face, Daryl’s fists, guy’s shirt, Daryl’s pants. Red. He only stops when he registers the guy under him is unconscious, and then he’s standing up, stalking over to the other guy who’s clutching at the bolt in his stomach, and doing the same damn thing. That guy, Daryl punches until he stops breathing. He didn’t intend to quit it, but your voice was the only thing that wasn’t red.

“STOP IT!”

It wasn’t the words you said or the way you said them, it was the fact that in them, Daryl could hear tears. You were crying. And that would shift his focus in any situation. Standing back up, he retrieves his crossbow from the ground and fires one last bolt to the only guy not left impaled, leaving one dead by bolt to the face, and two left to turn by bolts in the stomach. Let them rot.

Everything’s different when it’s Daryl crouching down in front of you, using his knife to cut the rope from your ankles and wrists. His bloody hands trembling around the blade, but not from fear. The ropes fall to the floor in tatters at the same rate as the tears rolling down your cheeks, but Daryl’s thumbs are there in a blink of an eye. Wiping your tears away, leaving smeared blood stains on your cheeks. He sees that look in your eyes again, like a blast from the past. A wide-eyed doe, too pretty for a world like this, but you’re here still.

Very gently, Daryl’s hands trail down your arms, lifting them and bringing them to his neck. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what he’s doing, but as soon as you realise, you’re shakily leaning into him. Daryl’s arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to his chest and holding you there. Where he wishes he could keep you forever. Tucked away safe.

“Thank you.” Is the sniffle that comes from you.

“Don’t need thankin’, girl.” Is Daryl’s gruff response, but the way he huffs and drops his head to your shoulder tells you he’s getting bashful, and that makes you smile.

There’s quiet, then. Just for a few seconds. Holding each other in a room filled with dead bodies shouldn’t feel as warm as it does, but when the world ends, you make do with what you have.

“Home?” You break the silence, your voice soft.

“Home.” Daryl nods against your shoulder.

And neither of you are referring to the place you ought to be heading back to.

—————————————————————————

taglist: @ruinedbythehobbit @iamburdened @evilbabyelf @of-storms-and-sadness @crossbowking @spidergirla5 @jodiereedus22 @thanossexual @captain-shannon-becker @cordialgargoyle @romanoffs-bitch @daryldixonandfrogs @just-always-tired @pillowjj @the-musical-doodle @likeablevillain @irrelevantyettopicalusername @notquitecannon @alyisdead @polkadottedpillowcase @twdeadfanfic @wishingtobeforeveryoung1994 @sigynlokiem @courtnytrash04 @thatwrestlingfan91 @buttsology @prettylittleblog13 @milariskanavasi @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @your-new-mom @daryls-angell @lilzebub @amaroho @bakedcrispss @yes-sir-hotchner @wasted-years @kpopandharry @madshelily @datidixon @dumandbass @savageneversaw

[reignpage]

hi reign!!! I hope you’re doing well 🫶

the horniness is back (it never left), what do you think the jjk men are like as virgins? 😈

like their general demeanor and attitude towards sex and the other person (nervous/confident/embarrassed), what their age is (envisioning they’re losing their v card later in life although there really isn’t a set time to lose it ✋😤), anyone cumming early/in their pants? 🤭 plus any details you can think of!

feel free to ignore this ask if you’ve done something like this before or if you don’t want to, you did just finish a literal SAGA with Sukuna 😭

much love reign! 💕💕

Here you go horny

Gojo 

Realistically he likely would have lost it quite young cause he’s an overachiever like that But I think if he’s like in college or college age, he meets an older woman he wants to impress he’ll fluff his feathers like a peacock  Too cocky  Thinks he’ll be naturally good at anything and everything  May not even know where the clit is “I bet I can make you cum within seconds” “Easy peasy lemon squeezy” Deffo jerked off before coming cause he heard that makes you last longer Doesn’t even let you suck him off cause he just wants to be sure “Nah, let’s save that for later, right now it’s about you, baby” Messy eater No technique Just motorboats you  AND SOMEHOW MAKES YOU CUM He’s so fucking smug  “Told ya” And then putting it in he cums immediately lol  And LIES??? “N-no of course -ngh- not” And he’s so embarrassed he goes bright red and tries to fuck you through it  “Fuck! Are you near? N-no reason, j-just asking” Ends up overstimulating himself  Cums twice  And passes out  Meanwhile you’re just laying there like 😑 Then in the morning, he’s all like  “Hey, gorgeous. Last night was something, huh” “Hey! Wait! Where are you going??”

Geto

Canonically more popular with the ladies than Gojo In adulthood, probably loses it around 20 years old too If he meets a girl he’s curious enough to spend the time with  Kind of confident Smoothtalker Takes things very slow Really takes his time and enjoys the moment  It’s very sensual “I could taste you forever” “Go on, pretty girl, make yourself cum on my hand” And you’re just like, you lied for sure cause ain’t no way you’re a virgin He’s really really good Might get a little carried with his kinks tho Chokes you but doesn’t really know how and ends up almost killing you maybe Generally though, I see him as the kind of virgin partner who’s willing to learn to your preferences and adjusts accordingly  He’s not selfish at all “Feeling good? You want more?” Mostly quiet, still unsure of how to approach his own fantasies and desires I imagine he’s a shit one night stand though cause he’ll disappear immediately and never calls 

Choso

Pretty ‘late’ or pretty early, no in-between  Realistically, I think he gets roped in by an older, more experienced woman That sounds kinda sus but I mean, he gets overwhelmed by the attention and doesn’t know what to do so he just leaves it up to you “Y-yes, whatever you want” “Okay, yes, of course! I um I don’t mind” Eager to please Will spend all night eating you out tbh Would be very happy just like that Cums in his pants FOR SURE He grinds against the mattress as he eats you out and cums If you’re straddling him as you make out, and you grind down on him He cums If you jerk him off with one stroke, he cums Cums and cums like everything had been saved up for that moment  “S-sorry, I tried really h-hard to hold it in -ngh- l-like you said” Gets very embarrassed but loves being teased Once he gets inside, bruh only takes one or two strokes and you’re filled with cum, or rather the condom is (lucky condom sigh) What he lacks in discipline and technique, he more than makes up for with enthusiasm 

Toji

Freak from day one Super cocky too Loses it pretty young  But if it was in adulthood, he totally loses it to an older woman I’m talking milf He probably watches a lot of porn So he doesn’t know about foreplay Just tries to shove it inside immediately Then you try to make him slow down and do all the fun stuff And he’ll do it but he’s not really that interested, just wants to get to the good part  You have to teach him not to be selfish  “I don’t fucking get it. What’s the point?” But once he realises or understands Then yeah… He’ll spend all night making you cum on anything and everything that isn’t his cock “Nah, you wanted my tongue, yeah? Well here ya go”  Wouldn’t cum in his pants, or would stop before it could reach that point cause he’s very prideful  “Don’t even try, s’not gonna happen” “I ain’t no fucking teenager” Jackhammers into your pussy and you have to tell him to freaking stop cause it’s insane  “Oh yeah you like that? You like that you fucking slut?” He needs to fix his porn addiction like dude…chill….

Nanami

Oh nanami The sweetest virgin  I feel like he canonically lost it later than most people  Wouldn’t do one night stands Very gentlemanly  Only considers it after the 3rd date Kisses and holds hands first It’s very slow, sensual and respectful Full of love and affection  “God, you look so beautiful right now” Probably researched a lot beforehand Would spend hours trying to make you cum Might even have to reassure you that you’re okay and you can take things slow “It’s alright, take what you want from me” A little clumsy putting it in maybe Finds it a struggle to build up a rhythm because it just feels too good too fast  Would likely cum before you But definitely makes up for it with his tongue “I’m sorry sweetheart, that was so selfish of me”  You could probably make him cum in his pants if you’re the more dominant or experienced one “N-no, sweetheart, please, don’t. I don’t want to make a mess” Most beautiful sight ever He's all flushed, gasping for breath, fingers digging into your hips “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

Sukuna

I feel like he might have had a lot of fun back in the day Either that or he never did cause he’s too good for humanly urges Until you Wouldn’t do one night stands He needs someone who he feels a connection with, someone he respects He also wants to make sure you’re clean Very snobby like that You also have to teach him Cause he’ll just act on animalistic urges “Here? You want me to touch that? How?” Also you have to teach him to be gentle and to slow down “Is it not better to be hasty so you may reach climax sooner?” One cock only for the first time Don’t try to make him cum in his pants, he’ll kill you out of embarrassment  I’m being so fr He’s surprisingly soft  “My nails are not hurting you? Good, stay still” Kinda scared to hurt you But once you convince him to let go of his worries and just be in the moment Then he’s gonna make you cum Just as a pride thing He refuses to be like mortal men who only care about their own pleasure “Do not mind me, seek your pleasure on my cock, go on”