#it likes going to people's doors in the middle of the night to scratch at it

[beedreamscape]

The only thing missing for John to become the perfect antagonist is owning a cat that everyone hates and that hates everyone.

The cat follows him around and sits on his lap while he shares tea and biscuits with people. Cohort soldier got the habit of saluting/bowing to the cat out of playfulness. Sometimes it just loafs on high corners of rooms and judges whoever's in it.

Every lyctor fears the thing is psychic somehow or conscious or a human soul trapped in a cat. Maybe even Alecto's soul trapped in a cat!

But no, just a grumpy cat that hates everyone but John.

And Harrow. Harrow is enough of a black cat in spirit for the cat to like her too.

The cat has the warmest golden eyes and makes her puke to look directly at it.

And over the myriads everyone at some point tried to kill it, but John being who he is has been keeping this cat alive for the past 10k+ years.

(Out of pettiness, Pyrrha took the cat away with her in the end of htn and gave it to Nona.)

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, obsessive/possessive behavior, and manipulation.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's the best security you could possibly ask for. You've been told that hybrids aren't very good for protection, that you'd be better off just getting a regular dog or, better yet, not living alone in one of the sketchier neighborhoods of a notoriously unsafe city, but those people haven't meant your Kento. Stern, stoic, and loyal - he keeps you safe, helps around the house, and doesn't need (or want, for that matter) half of the attention a normal dog would need. Really, it's more like having a personal bodyguard than a pet. You're sure he'd prefer if it if you treated him more like the former than the latter, too.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who'd practically be human if it wasn't for the adorably pointed ears on top of his head, the wiry tail at the base of his spine, and the dull canines you sometimes catch a glimpse of during one of his rare smiles. It's clear that he doesn't consider himself to be like most hybrids, so you do your best to treat him like a roommate - giving him his space, making sure he has his privacy, constantly resisting the urge to run your hands through his hair and apologizing profusely when you inevitably fail. He claims he doesn't mind, not if it's you, but you've seen the way his lips curl when strangers so much as approach him, how he rolls his eyes when he sees other hybrids sitting on their owners' laps or begging for treats. You're not eager to get on his bad side, even if you do occasionally catch him slipping into your bed in the middle of the night.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's mistaken for your boyfriend at least once a week. It's your own fault, really. He likes to walk you to work, run errands while you're away, all the things a stay-at-home boyfriend would usually do if he were as loving and as attentive as Nanami. It's always embarrassing, even if all you have to do is nod to one of his less-than-human features to clear up the misunderstanding. Still, it happens so often, and you're not proud to admit that from time to time, you don't have the energy to do anything but smile and nod when your elderly neighbor compliments the 'hunk of a man' living with you.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's less naturally protective than you think he is. He's concerned with your safety, of course, but that's not a privilege that extends to the male coworkers he catches with a hand on the small of your back, to the friends who drag you out of your shared apartment and don't bring you back until the early hours of the morning. He spends more nights than he's proud of standing outside of your bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, waiting for an intruder, or a nightmare - any excuse to cross that unspoken boundary. It'd be more practical to spend his nights on the foot of your bed like every other drooling, filthy mutt hybrid, but that's not the kind of relationship he wants to have with you. Not if you have to think of him as a dog to get there.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who has to fuck his fist three times a day to offset his humiliating instincts. He tried for complete abstinence at first, not to think about you in that context at all, but there's only so many hours of his day he can spend with his knot pressed into his stomach, his cock twitching every time you bend over or brush against him. Still, it's far from a long-term solution. How could it be, when he still cums untouched every time you scratch the base of his ears?

Guard Dog!Nanami, who volunteers to take care of your household chores so he'll have an excuse to root through your laundry while you're away. He's surprised you haven't noticed just how much of your underwear mysteriously vanishes with every load, but even if you were less oblivious, he'd rather you be suspicious of him than ever find the hoard of tattered, stained, ruined fabric he keeps underneath his mattress.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows this can't go on for much longer. He loves you, and he respects you, and he knows that you'll never really see him as anything more than a pet, but he's can't seem to bring himself to see you as a master. And, when he's walking you home late at night after yet another unplanned bar crawl, when he's listening to you whine half-coherently about how hard it is to live with a hybrid that's so close to human, he may pass a darkened alleyway and listen to the long-buried, animalistic mind urging Nanami to claim what belongs to him.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows that you'll never make a very good master and he'll never make a very good pet. But, that doesn't mean he can't hope that you'll both be better off after your roles are reversed.

[hedgehog-moss]

(There is blood pictured at the end of this post) (well, 1 drop) (don't worry it's mine, not some innocent creature's)

I found a dormouse in my kitchen today, just chilling on the ceiling above my head, watching me cook. Maybe even judging my cooking technique like Ratatouille. I only noticed its presence because there's a bunch of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling above the stove and at one point I heard a rustling, then a crunching noise.

It was eating my herbs.

As if they were a little snack I'd placed here for my dormouse friends. None of my other animals can walk on the ceiling, therefore any food that's near the ceiling must be an offering to the dormice. (I admit, that's sound logic.)

A dormouse family has been living in my walls since before I moved here—I should probably call it a dormouse dynasty, by now. Here's the first post I wrote about them, in 2019 ! The cats eat a lot of them (especially Morille, she loves dormice) but apparently not enough to make the key decision makers in this dormouse community decide that living in my house is more trouble than it's worth.

Every year when they hibernate and go quiet for eight months I have the renewed hope that this time the cats got rid of all of them, but the next spring they wake up and start scratching inside my walls in the middle of the night again. (Not only that's creepy, but it's so loud.)

Anyway, this dormouse, let's call him Alfred. I saw immediately which hole between two stones he'd crawled out of and the first thing I did was to stuff a salt shaker in there to block his escape route. Step 2 was to call for backup—I summoned Morille, and she came down from the living-room 2 seconds later (the cats know it's always good news when I call them to the kitchen while cooking.)

Alfred was panicking.

I grabbed a broom and started threatening him with it like an angry old woman in a cartoon. He tried to flee towards the ladder, but Morille was there. He tried to flee towards the door, but Morille was also there. He tried to hide on top of the fridge, and Morille happily lay siege to it, like my fridge was a Gallic oppidum on top of a hill and Morille was Caesar and his entire army.

Morille was having the time of her life.

But my kitchen door was ajar, and Alfred managed a heroic jump from the top of the fridge to the lintel, like a flying squirrel. He scurried out then grabbed hold of the climbing rose right above the door. When I got out and took this photo, he looked fairly stressed and pessimistic.

I didn't want him to climb the wall all the way to the eaves and go right back into my house, so I went back in to get my broom again, either to make him lose his grip and fall straight into Morille's gaping maw (sorry), or make him run away into the woods (inferior solution; they always find their way back, unless you take them very far away.)

(I used to trap dormice humanely then drive them 3km away to release them near the barn of a neighbour I disliked, but this neighbour has since moved. (Not because of my dormouse warfare, I swear.) There's also an abandoned house in the woods where I used to exile my prisoners, but after a while I started feeling silly driving around the countryside with dormice in the backseat, so I stopped trapping them (it really was a hassle) and just let the cats eat them.)

But Alfred is a combative and resourceful rodent. In the half-minute it took me to go back in and grab my broom, he laid a trap for me.

He ran along the stem of my climbing rose in such a way that his weight made it droop jussst enough to be now hanging at face level rather than above the door. So when I ran outside again with my broom, I was slapped in the face by a thorny rose plant. (For a minute I thought I was crying tears of blood, which seemed worrying, but it was just a scratch above my eye.) (I wish it could leave a tiny scar, so people will ask how I got it, and I will tell them about the mighty dormouse wielding a rose sword.)

I sent these pics to my brother hoping to get some sympathy, and he cropped & desaturated the one with the blood teardrop then sent it back with the comment "you look like an Evanescence song"

By this point I decided Alfred had won this battle. (Not the war, because it's almost autumn aka hibernation time so he probably found another gap between two stones and went right back inside. The war continues.) But this humble dormouse set a Saw trap to poke my eyes out the second I stepped outside my house and I respect that. I admire the way he used his environment to his advantage, and teamed up with my climbing rose to level the playing field (since I had teamed up with my cat first.) He has won the right to spend another winter inside my walls, curled up in my cosy wool insulation, dreaming of dried herbs, thwarted cats, and heroic skydiving from fridgetops.

Well played.

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[dearhargrove]

Hi there! I have an eddie diaz request please. I don't know if you've seen the boyfriend door lean on tiktok but I was thinking eddie either comes across it and tries it on reader to see if it works (reader is a bookworm) or he does it without knowing what it is and reader melts (in either scenario) and she explains and shows it to him and he says he'll have to do it more often? All cute fluffy and adorable if you can please. Thank you!!

summary Eddie finds out about the 'door frame lean' thing on tiktok and tries it on you.

word count 950

tags fluffy and a bit spicy, Chris!!, Eddie's a menace

a/n hope I did this request justice because I absolutely adore that idea! Need someone to do this for me? Also Eddie would most definitely do this at any chance after realising how it had you going crazy 😭 I used this tiktok as a reference by the way!

masterlist

You're sitting up against the headboard with your book in your hands and a glass of wine on the nightstand next to you, simply passing time until your boyfriend comes home from his 24 hour shift.

You're almost done with it when you hear the front door open and close, a bag being dropped on the floor and shoes messily discarded next to the shoe rack (it seems no matter how many times you get mad at him for not putting his shoes away he forgets it and repeats the same mistake).

Moments later you see him walk along the hallway to your shared bedroom. His hair is messy instead of combed back like it was this morning when he'd made sure to ask you if it looked good, and the exhaustion is clear on his face.

You close your book after putting the bookmark between the pages you were reading and look at him with a smile that he easily reciprocates.

“Rough shift?” you move off the bed and walk to lean against the door frame as he approaches. “Yeah. People are stupid,” you chuckle and he stops in front of you, reaching his left hand up and placing it on the door frame and easily leaning his head down to look at you.

You're entirely caught off guard, not sure whether to look into his eyes or focus on the fact that this position was very flattering on his biceps. You swallow nervously which he catches and tilts his head with a small smirk.

“What? Why do you look nervous, amor?” He asks huskily and puts his other hand on your waist. That's just about your last straw and you fluster and look away, “Uh, no, just- how was your shift?”

He laughs and lets go of the door frame to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer until he can reach your neck and bury his face in it. You're pretty sure he can feel your pulse being abnormally high from where he'd placed his head, so in hopes of not making him aware of how crazy this entire situation had you going you bury your hands in his hair and gently scratch his scalp. Something you knew would make him melt any time you did it.

He grunts and his arms tighten around your waist, fingers pressing into the middle of your lower back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “That feels good.”

Your whole ruse to distract him backfired because he just kept getting more sexy and you're pretty sure he either knew exactly what he was doing or was totally unaware of the effect this whole interaction was having on you.

“Dad, you're home!” Chris distracts both of you and Eddie kisses your pulse point and squeezes your waist again before crouching down to lift Chris into his arms and hug him tight. “Hey, buddy. Aren't you supposed to be asleep? It's almost nine thirty.”

You watch them and take the moment to gather your wits again because, oh my god. You'll never be able to read about the door frame lean in a book again without thinking about this.

Later that night when you're both in bed, his head placed on your chest as he patiently waits for you to finish reading the chapter so you could play with his hair, he looks up at you, “I didn't actually believe that door frame thing would work.”

Your jaw drops and you look at him with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”

“That.. what's it called? Booktok. Buck was talking about it because he thought it was funny and mentioned how I should know what that is since you read so much. I didn't so I looked it up. Who knew you'd fold so easily?” He teases and you glare at him in slight embarrassment and take your hand from his hair.

“Stop teasing me about it.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Never. You looked way too cute, though I almost got worried with how high your pulse was getting…”

You gasp and flick his forehead with your index finger, about to throw some insult at him when the door opens and Christopher stands in the doorway.

Eddie sits up and you put your book on the nightstand, “Chris? Everything okay, love?” You ask and he pouts. “Nightmare. Can I sleep here tonight?”

You look at Eddie with a worried expression and he slightly shrugs but scoots to the side to make space for the ten year old. He crawls into the middle of you and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders. He looks at you with big eyes and you smile, knowing what he wanted, before carding your hand through his hair. He hums happily and Eddie looks at you slightly offended, “He's stealing your attention.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “You can wait until he's asleep.” Chris grins happily at his father and then at you. “I'm cuter anyway,” Eddie gasps and you laugh as the two banter.

One look at the clock though and you're shushing them both with a forehead kiss, “Alright now, time to sleep.” Eddie looks happy with himself, taking that as him getting all your attention now and you raise one eyebrow, “You too.”

Chris giggles and then settles down, same as Eddie after he scowls at you. You click off the small lamp on your nightstand and see Chris already snoozing with Eddie watching him fondly.

Placing your hand in Eddie's hair instead you whisper ‘I love you’ which he repeats and puts his arm over Chris to put his hand on your hip, falling asleep not long after.

[aphrogeneias]

i just don't know what to do with myself — one-shot

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

summary: you and eddie got into a fight for the first time since you started... whatever it is there is between you. it's a lot to process, but he can't stay away from you for too long.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. drinking and driving (don't do that, kids). jealous!reader. smut (+18) with feelings. possibly dubcon (one of them is slightly intoxicated). eddie munson's puppy dog eyes.

author's note: it's been a long time coming... thank you to all those who waited <3

The street around him was busy, the rows of bars all over the block bursting with people. The yellow light from the lampposts and the neon red sign from the bar he'd parked right under lit his car from the outside in, a sickly kaleidoscope of the night life he was trying to run from, but Eddie made no move to leave.

He didn't want to.

It was a way to torture himself — unconsciously, maybe. Life went on around him, loud and bright, but inside, everything was dead still.

Eddie thought about you as he took another sip from the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the middle console. You were supposed to go home from the shoot with him. Did you take a ride with someone else? Did you take the subway home? If he knocked on your door now, would you answer it?

Had he crossed a line? No, scratch that. He'd crossed several lines the day he led you into his bed, and several other ones before that. That wasn't the question he should be asking, but Eddie couldn't help the thoughts that lingered like a cloud of smoke over his weary mind.

He'd left the photo studio that day a mess, your words ringing in his ears like bells. “I don't want to talk to you right now”, you'd said. Did you mean it? Should he not have insisted, then? Did he make everything worse?

He didn't even know what exactly he did wrong. You'd said it was your mistake, actually, and the more he thought about it, the more it broke his own heart.

Was being with him a mistake? Letting him in, that was your mistake?

Oddly enough, if that was the case, he understood. After all, he was the one who twisted the nature of your relationship, and you let him. It was selfish, but from the moment he saw you, he had to have you. The girl in the background who took his entire attention.

You still had it, it was irrevocably yours. Eddie thought of you every day since then.

And, perhaps, he thought, the worst thing about being away from you was the fact that he'd always believed you had the power to make everything right.

Whether it was your unwavering presence, a rock in the middle of the storm that seemed to be his life, or just your way of coming up with the most logical, practical decision to his most out-there problems — and even when you didn't, you were there. Just there, with a hand to hold, with a lap to lay his head on, with lips to kiss him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Now that you'd turned your back on him, he didn't know what to do with himself.

The radio was long forgotten, but still on. Through the static, Dusty Springfield's voice came through, the orchestral track rising and rising behind it. He recognized it from one of his mom’s old records, and chuckled to himself, humorlessly.

In one moment, he hung his head over the steering wheel, hitting it with his forehead. In the other, it was like the car gained a life of its own.

Dusty’s voice carried on with the wind.

That small apartment building hadn't always been your home.

It was one of Rick’s apartments, where he'd let you live in — insisted on it, really — because your old one was falling apart and he didn't want you getting in another fight with your landlord. If Rick hadn't, then Eddie was ready to ask you to live with him.

Wouldn't be such a smart decision, looking back at it.

He walked up the stairs feeling less determined, more defeated than in the past few days. Lethargy sat on his bones, and he didn't know if it was the alcohol, the lack of sleep, or his brain that refused to shut down.

He just needed to see you.

Time stood still as he waited for you to open the door.

In those few, but long, moments, Eddie decided he would be fine if you shut the door on him the second you saw who was waiting for you on the other side. At least he would be able to see your face again.

Any other day, he'd laugh at the pity party he's throwing himself, but his heart ached too much to have any sort of self-awareness — see, he had never felt this way before.

When the lock moved, the key turned, and your sweet, confused face appeared through the doorway, something squeezed and bled inside his chest. He couldn't speak, but you did.

“Eddie?” You frowned. “What happened?”

“Hi.” He said, almost breathless, and suddenly, he doesn't feel as tired.

You were on your sleep clothes, a button down pajama set he'd sure seen before. A sight for sore eyes, with your sleepy face furrowed in confusion. If he touched you, Eddie mused, you'd be warm all over. It filled him with a longing greater than he thought he could handle.

“Hi,” you responded, opening the door a little wider, silently letting him in. He noticed you had almost let a pet name slip, “what's wrong?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

He stood in the middle of your living room, hands on hips, ready to wage war. It was frustration, not only due to what you'd said, but also to being in the same room as you and not being able to touch you. It raged inside of him, making his hands itch.

Eddie watched as you sat on the armrest of your couch, and struggled to find your words. “I'm sorry I haven't reached out. But to be fair, neither has you.”

“I thought you didn't want to hear from me.”

“Oh, Eddie. No! I'm…” You sighed, pinching your nose between delicate fingers, and your shoulders fell. “I'm embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of what?” He asked, slowly. Crossing his arms, bracing himself.

“Of everything I said to you! I overreacted. I saw you with that model and all these insecurities came through. I couldn't keep it in so threw it all on you, and I couldn't take it back anymore. I feel ridiculous now.”

His eyebrows furrowed deep as he listened to you explain yourself, a whine coming through your lips as you got close to finishing. He tried to understand, his resolve slipping through his fingers.

“You could have talked to me instead of walking out.”

“I know!” You finally looked him in the eyes. “Like I said, I got embarrassed, and I thought you were mad at me…”

“I am. Still am, for the record.”

“And you have every right to be.” You looked defeated. Eddie wished he could change that. “I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. Actually talked.”

“It's just…” Eddie turned on his axis, flailing his arms around. “What were you thinking? What was that?”

“I saw you with that model and just couldn't help but think of all the better options you have out there. All the women surrounding you just seem like a more obvious option than me. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why you brother with this complicated thing we have when you could have anyone you want. Easily.”

He crumbled, then. “Oh, sweet girl…”

His feet moved first, towards you, and his knees followed, bending to your level. You looked down at him, eyes wide, as he splayed his cold hands over your bare thighs, making you flinch, but not move away.

“I don't want anyone else. You're the only one I see. All those other people… they don't exist to me. You have to know that.”

Tentatively, you reached out, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. “Forgive me for doubting you?”

It was his turn to sight then, resting his head on your knee. He stood again, this time taking you with him. “C’mere.” He said, pulling you in.

Those same cold hands frame your face, pull you to his lips with fervor. He kissed you like he never did before. Hungry, ready to devour. Bumping your body back into the couch behind you, careless in his eagerness. Hands gripped you tight, pressed you close to his body. Begging silently, don't go.

“Ed,” you pulled back slightly, resting your forehead on his. “How much did you have to drink, honey?”

You must have felt it in his breath. He felt ashamed too, just as you did a mere minutes ago, but didn't have it in him to argue.

“Baby, please.” He said, running his nose over your heated cheek. “Not much, not nearly enough. Jus’ need to feel you. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Your breathing trembled as he ran his hands over your waist, down to the hem of your sleep shirt and under it, feeling your skin under his fingertips.

It felt like redemption.

He didn't take time to answer you, instead kissing you again. Tasting you on his tongue, drinking from you. Eddie kissed with his whole body, entangling himself on you, surrounding you on him. He needed to be the only thing on your mind. Bruising your lips with his, sucking your tongue as you mewled against him.

It didn't take long until you were clumsily walking back into your room, bumping into the walls along the way. He'd walked you back into the wall in the small corridor, kissing down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt with unusual dexterity for someone who had way too much bourbon in one night. Your pajamas fell into the floor before you even reached your bed.

Eddie whispered sweet nothings as he took in your body, never leaving you without his touch. He took the time to remember you — because a few days were enough for him to miss you to the point of forgetfulness.

To remember the way you liked to pull on his hair when he was between your thighs, covering your pussy with his mouth. He sighed with reverence against your swollen clit, pulling it between his lips, revelling in the sounds he pulled from you.

He let you grind against his mouth, fucking you with his tongue.

“Baby, baby, baby.” You whined. “Don't stop.”

He let his body answer for him, pulling you closer by the thighs, letting them close around his head. Letting you use his tongue, he let you ride out your high, but just barely enough until he was crawling over your spent body, still trembling under him, peppering kisses all over your torso.

“Missed you so fucking much.” He mumbled into your skin, “Don't do this to me again.”

You shook your head into your pillow, “I won't. I won't.”

Still keeping your legs open, grip hard enough to leave bruises, he positioned himself in your entrance. He couldn't stop touching you — face pressed into your face, taking in your scent, running the reddened head of his cock over your sensitive cunt.

“Don't want you away from me ever again. Promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

It was no more than a broken moan as he entered you, filling you up to the brim, barely giving you time to adjust. You squirmed under him, grasping for purchase on his back, nails scratching down his skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathed. He knew he sounded frenzied, desperate for you. It wasn't like he had it in him to care, not when you felt like velvet around him. “That's it. That's it.”

He kept a slow but steady rhythm, fucking into you with purpose, heavy balls hitting your ass with each long stroke. His head hung in your neck as he heard your moans grow louder and louder, the wet sounds of your sex filling the room.

“Yeah? I know. I know, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder, feeling your skin rise. “You missed me too, didn't you?”

“S’much.” You whimpered, clenching around him harder.

Without warning, he picked up the pace, feeling you were close. One of your legs lifted to his shoulder as he pistoned into you, hellbent on making you cum. He thrusted again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a plead.

As you shook underneath him, he kept going. Going and going and going.

He hoped that was enough to make your thoughts stop running from him. You could talk in the morning.

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Four) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 4.8K / navigation / inbox

A/N: Day two begins!! thank you to everyone who's been reading along, and if you're just finding this series for the first time through this part, welcome! I hope you enjoy, and though this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, it packs some punches. You will get more insight into why they act the way that they do in this chapter, in the next chapter! bear with them please, they're dumb </333 please let me know how you're feeling about the series so far! <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Daniel’s shoulders are so broad that they block your view of both the cabin and his face, everything completely obscured by the heaving, sweaty, tanned mass of muscle flexed over you. Daniel’s toned arms frame your head, his lips tug your own into a string of merciless kisses, kisses that leave you panting when you’re granted even the slightest of respite. His cock pumps in and out of your throbbing cunt with every thrust of his strong hips, and all that you’re capable of is a pathetic stream of whines and whimpers as Daniel undoes you.

“Oh Dan- Daniel! Please, harder, I want- I want more, please!” You babble, gripping at his back, smoothing your hands and scratching your nails over every inch of his glistening, taut skin, “Please, please, I need more, please, more- harder, more, I need you!”

Pleasure shoots through your core stronger than you’ve ever felt it before, and you chase the feeling desperately, lifting your hips to press yourself into Daniel’s steady thrusts. The new angle of your body allows for your head to be tipped backwards, and you catch sight of the hazy face that had eluded your vision before. But where Daniel’s scruff blankets his face, there’s only tan, smooth skin, squared at the chin and leading into the tight, determined snarl of none other than Jake Seresin.

“Jake!”

You wake like it’s from a nightmare, a gasp leaving your throat and your stomach dropping at the image of Hangman having his way with you. You’re sweaty and sleep-ruffled, and you realize with a still-throbbing core that you’re clinging to one of his arms, rutting your hips against him like a man starved. 

Fuck. Fuck, your throat is dry which probably means that you’ve been moaning, god forbid his name, and- and he’s going to tell everyone that you’re desperate, and you’re never going to be able to look him in the eyes, and you might as well quit your job because he’s won and there’s nothing you’ll ever be able to do to make up for how ashamed you’re going to be… when he wakes up.

He’s asleep.

His lashes are softly resting above his strong cheekbones, lids covering eyes that did not witness you at your most vulnerable. He didn’t see, he’s been asleep- he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know, which means that you never have to talk about it, which means that you can go to the bathroom and take a cold shower and pretend that you woke up on the floor instead- maybe you’ll even tell him he kicked you off in the middle of the night so that he feels bad enough not to tease you for the day. And nobody ever has to know that he’s in your dreams, whether they be that or nightmares.

You stagger out from under the bedsheets and over to the small bathroom faster than you’ve ever been awake and alert in your life, and you’re instantly relieved by the sanctuary of the bathroom when it lets you shut a door between you and Jake.

--

The slamming of the door or the squeaking of the shower knobs is not what wakes Jake. It happened to be a very loud, very wanton cry barely minutes prior, when he’d woken to find your pinched-up face buried into the heated skin of his bicep. You’d whined and whimpered and moaned until a very sizeable tent had grown in his pants, and you’d fucked your hips onto his thigh over and over and over again until he’d felt a wet patch blossom that stuck his boxers to his thigh. He’d remained civil- respectful about it, keeping still even if his mind was racing, but when you’d suddenly moaned out his own name- Jake would have reached for his cock but that was when you’d woken, and he’d already had his eyes snapped shut in the desperation of conjuring a mental image of you writhing below him so that it seemed like he was still asleep. Blessedly disguised, Jake listens as you beeline for the bathroom, and when the door slams, his eyes fly open.

A quick glance beneath the sheet reveals a stain of translucent slick that’s soaked into his boxers, big enough to account for the way you’d been grinding so desperately onto his thigh. Knowing that you’d said his name, not Daniel or Damien or Dallas or Dalton or Devon- you’d been dreaming of him. It’s enough to have Jake frantically prying at the hem of his boxers, tugging on his cock with one rough fist while the other hand prods desperately at the wet spot on his boxers for something to lick up. Jake was the name you’d said, Jake is the man you’re thinking of.

--

Jake cannot be the man you’re thinking of. You don’t have nearly enough energy when you close yourself into the bathroom to shower right away, so you take to sitting dejectedly on the lid of the toilet rather than scrubbing down right away. But you feel dirty, you feel wrong for fantasizing about the jerk from work instead of the dreamboat you’d frenched in an elevator less than 24 hours prior. It’s not fair. Why does your brain have to latch onto Jake? Why can’t you just be peacefully separate from him, why does he have to nail himself to your door and bleed through the gaps? 

And why did he have to dress you in lingerie? 

You realize you’re staring down at your pink silk-covered stomach, and your nose scrunches when you note how little fabric there is to cover what’s between your legs. Christ, he couldn’t have dressed you in something a little more modest?

Although, you suppose, you didn’t bring anything more modest. Actually, the pink getup is probably the most modest nightgown you’ve got- you’d anticipated sex. So he gets a pass on that one, but you’re still peeved about the way he won’t leave your head. 

The shower is warm and being clean feels delightful against your slick skin, washing away the sins you’d rubbed into Jake’s thigh, but you’re so disturbed by your dream- or more so it’s subsequent meaning, that you can barely enjoy any of it.

In stepping out of the shower you realize you’d been in such a rush to get in that you’d forgotten to take clothes with you. But if you’re lucky, at least Jake will still be asleep, and you won’t have to endure any-

“Fancy droppin’ that towel, darlin’? Since you got in the shower without me, I figure it’s only fair I get to see what I missed.”

Any teasing. If Jake was still asleep, you wouldn’t have to endure any teasing. But there he is, hair tousled from sleep, eyes slightly bleary, but smirk in full force as he stares at your towel-clad form.

You’d be locked and loaded with a quip back any other day, but the memory of the pleasure writhing through your veins like blood itself at Jake’s hands has thrown you severely off-kilter. Instead you stand there, winded, lost for words as a strange and unexpected surge of tears sting at your eyes.

Jake notices, blinking as the smirk vanishes instantly from his face.

“Hey, woah, that’s- don’t do that. I was just teasing, don’t- don’t do that.”

“I’m not-” You defend uselessly, blinking rapidly as you back towards your suitcase, but Jake’s concern dims into something like disappointment.

He recites, “We didn’t do anything last night. You were shit-faced and you passed out the second you were in bed. I’m not…” He struggles, glancing away from you and towards the wall in thinly-veiled distaste, “I wouldn’t do that.”

You’re almost as stunned by the accusation as he seems. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind at all, but- in another man’s hands, you might not have been safe. You hadn’t felt a sliver of distrust towards Jake, and there’s something strange about that. Would you have felt comfortable going home with Daniel? Perhaps last night, several drinks in, you would have. But now you feel a strange camaraderie with Jake, now he feels familiar and safe and you’re glad he was the one to escort you to bed. You’re not used to respecting him, to relying on him, to letting your guard down around him. But you had, and you had even forgotten that you might not have been safe until he’d brought it up himself, convinced your crying fit is because of some awful thing you think he did to you last night.

You’d much rather use that excuse, but you’ll give credit where credit is due.

“I know,” You admit softly, clutching your towel tight around your body, “I didn’t think- thank you for taking me to bed.”

He doesn’t speak- he doesn’t think he ever could. But he nods, once, face tight and stiff because if it wasn’t it’d be soft. And you’d already shorn deep into his newly unguarded, tender flesh- he doesn’t need more wounds.

“Are we eating breakfast together?” Is your indirect way of asking- nay, demanding that he eat with you as thanks for the night prior without actually asking. Because asking would be crazy, you don’t even like him.

And you don’t want to eat with him, except for the fact that you eat with him near every day, and if you’re not going to be in a candlelight setting, you might be able to convince yourself that you’re not on a sex cruise, and that you’re just eating with your fri- teammate. That you’re just eating with your teammate, and all else can be ignored. Especially your dream.

“‘Was plannin’ on it. Hey, wear your bathing suit under that,” Jake nods at the romper you’ve chosen for the day, “We’re goin’ swimming after breakfast.”

You raise a brow at his tone, “Oh, are we? I was planning on meeting Daniel.”

“Where?”

“He mentioned going to the pizza place for lunch.”

Jake snorts, “Real romantic. Well, I walked by there the other day, and the pizza place is a poolside bar. So, put on that skimpy little bathing suit I saw in your suitcase, and you can swim with me until Danny-boy gets there.”

“I don’t want to swim with you,” You feel a little like a petulant toddler snapping back at him, but it’s true. You don’t want to be splashed and dunked and held down in what will surely prove to be the most stressful time you’ve ever had in a body of water- which is really saying something, because you’d had to eject into the Pacific before. Breakfast is one thing- a thank-you. This is different and you’d rather have a tooth pulled.

“Fine, then, princess. Sit on a lounge chair and read a book. I don’t care, just come with me.” You think this might be an invitation, a genuine hand outstretched amidst the numerous other jabs you’ve taken over the duration of your voyage so far. You meet his eye, but there’s a mischievous glint in them and it’s too late to stop him before he continues, “I’ve gotta keep my lady close, or else there’ll be a swarm of other passengers beggin’ to hang off my arm, and we’ll sink the ship if everyone rushes to one side.”

It’s pathetic to admit that you have nothing better to do than go with Jake. His cockiness creates scenarios that are so easy to refuse- so tempting to reject if only to see the light in his eyes fade into a more manageable dulled hue. Now though, you’re stuck. You’re not willing to spend the entire time on board locked away in your cabin hiding from Jake- you came for the fun and sun, dammit. And being in the sun sounds lovely, and the main character of the novel you’re reading will bring you a welcome respite from Jake until Daniel comes to sweep you off of your feet.

“I am not getting in the water,” You warn, fishing your bathing suit out of your suitcase while keeping a firm hold on your towel, “I am going to sit on a lounge chair and read a book. And you’re going to leave me alone, and do whatever it is you like doing in the pool. Chase those little diving rings, maybe?”

“I’m not six.” Jake wrinkles his nose in distaste, “I use the torpedoes, like a real man.”

Your eyes itch to roll back into your skull until they’re stuck there, and you never have to see his smug face again.

“Your torpedoes, then. Get my book from out of my bag,” You nod towards your purse, “And bring your own towel, because I’m not getting one for you.”

The door drowns out the beginning of Jake’s bitching when it slams behind you, but even in the tiled bathroom you can still hear him speak.

“-prissy today, aren’t you! Y’know, the hunk on the cover of this romance looks a lot like me. And- ohhh,” Jake’s wicked laugh instills fear- real, actual fear in your chest as you rush to get dressed, “This is one of them porn books, ain’t it?”

He’s holding the book like a trophy when you finally step out of the bathroom in your bikini, the way a fisherman would proudly display a 38 pound halibut. It’s got a cowboy on the front that’s wearing a hat similar to the one Jake wears at ‘Honky Tonk Night’ at the Hard Deck, and the female lead is draped over his chest, leaning in for a kiss.

“Wanna roleplay it, darlin’?” Jake moves forward, his free hand reaching for your waist to force you against him like you’re on the cover of your novel, “You could do exactly what it says on the cover, ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.”

You catch his arm instead and use it to give you leverage in your attempt to take back your book, but he’s holding it high over his head, and he’s tall even without his combat boots giving him a good extra inch or two. 

“Daniel’s got a bit of a southern drawl,” You choose to fight with words if you can’t win a battle of heights, and Jake’s bicep tightens in place as he tenses, muscles flexing.

“That boy’s got nothin’ on mine,” Jake tilts his chip upwards- ah, so you’ve hit a weak spot: that precious Texan heritage he boasts about.

“I like his better. It’s subtle, not too in-your-face.” You shrug, and now that Jake’s frozen, buffering, you’re able to reach up and take back your book without him fighting back. But he follows you when you step away, and your back hits the wall of the cabin when he leans forward and down to match your height.

“See that?” He inspects your expression, and even though you’re wide-eyed in bewilderment he finds something satisfying in it - “You like it when I’m in your face.”

Maybe it’s your proximity- the way his face is closer to yours than it was even in your dream last night, or maybe it’s the way he murmurs the words instead of boasting them, like they’re a secret. Something strips you of your ability to fire back, and you share a moment of silence before he pulls away and gathers a set of towels from the corner of the room.

He’s wearing his swim trunks already. You hadn’t noticed. Well, you’d noticed his lack of a shirt, but you hadn’t bothered to check what was below that. You’ve seen him in them before, a beach day with the dagger squad or a pool party for Penny’s birthday, but you’re not sure you’ve ever noticed the faint fish hook outlines on them.

“I can feel you lookin’,” Jake snickers, giving you a rather impressive view of his ass, “I’ll let you squeeze it if you admit Daniel’s not all that great.”

“The only thing I wanna squeeze is your neck, Hangman,” You scoff, hurriedly looking away from his ass and gathering your belongings- key card, phone, book that’s been discarded on the bed, “Now let’s get out of here before I change my mind and lock you out of our cabin.”

“Oh, but you’d be so bored in here without me,” Jake’s croon exudes fake sympathy, “Who would you bicker with all day?”

“Not Daniel.” You purr, grinning mischievously as you head for the elevators, your door clicking shut behind you as Jake nearly steps on your feet, “If I was with Daniel, he wouldn’t be able to talk through all the pussy on his tongue.”

That shuts him up.

The elevator ride is silent, and by the look on Jake’s face, you’d have thought he’d been declared a spare on a mission amongst a group of new recruits. HIs jaw is stone-set, sharp and tight, and his eyes bore uselessly but fiercely into the silver wall as the elevator moves up- something is brewing in that hard head of his.

Finally, some fucking peace and quiet.

Something about the ding of the elevator snaps him out of his funk, and he holds the door open to the breakfast hall for you with his signature shit-eating grin. It’s the same place you’d eaten lunch the day before, and you wish again for Daniel to knock knees with you beneath the table. It had been so cutesy, so intimate, so-

“Here,” Jake plucks two trays off of the stack, one for you and one for him, “I’ll hold it while you load up a plate.”

“I can do it myself,” You insist, snatching the tray from his hands and setting an empty plate on top of it, “I’m not falling for that act, Hangman. You’ll steal my breakfast if I let you hold it.”

“Now that’s not true,” He scolds, scooping eggs onto his plate, “I’ll steal it no matter what.”

The ship’s pancakes look surprisingly well-made, and you’re starting to marvel at how nice the amenities are for the price you’d paid. Maybe you’d been the guinea pig voyage, and they’re testing how feasible this sort of thing really is. 

“Hands off my syrup, Hangman,” You elbow him in the side, bumping him out of line for fresh pastries while you snag one for yourself, “I don’t want your sticky fingers getting all over my book.”

“So you do want me readin’ that thing,” He grins, reaching over you to pluck a chocolate croissant off of the tray, unbothered by your teasing, “I guess I’ll need to get into character. Tell me, how big is he? Anything under nine inches just won’t be realistic for me.”

“Please! I’ve heard things from Rooster,” You laugh, topping your plate off with butter packets, “Four is more like it.”

“You tell Rooster,” Hangman shoots a hand out, stopping you from snagging an empty seat at a table for two, “That he’s gotta stop swapping our measurements. Tell him to keep my name out of his mouth.” He pulls the chair out, clearly expecting you to sit.

Under his fiery, watchful gaze, you sit.

You don’t know what makes you do it; you’ve always felt Hangman’s faux-chivalry was condescending at best. He always seems to be mocking you- let me do it because you can’t, or let me do it because I don’t think you should.

Now it seems more like let me do it because I want to. And for that reason, you’ve obeyed.

Hangman’s terse mood from earlier seems to flicker in and out, but breakfast is pleasantly casual- nothing like your tense candlelight dinner the night before. 

“You’re lucky Phoenix isn’t here,” You raise your brows briefly at Hangman, eyeing the way he’s sprawled out over the bench, “She’d tell you to quit manspreading.”

“I like manspreading,” Hangman grins, thankfully concealing his mouthful of food in the process instead of showing it off, “Let’s everyone know what I’m working with.”

After a quick, fake look at his crotch, you decide, “Nothing?”

He takes the teasing good-naturedly, rolling his eyes and insisting, “You’re gonna be sorry when you find out how wrong you were, darlin’. First time y’see it your eyes are gonna bug out of your head.”

“I’d prefer not to see it at all,” Your nose wrinkles, “I’m perfectly happy with your current state of dress.”

“I know that’s right,” He snickers, “I saw you eyein’ up my tight little swim trunks earlier.”

“I was not.” You snap, but he’s only goaded into being further convinced, “Your back was to me, how could you have possibly known where I was looking?”

“I heard you stop moving the second I bent over,” He winks at you, and it’s a gaudy, grotesque display of cockiness, “You were transfixed, darlin’. One look and you forgot what you were doing.”

“That was because I couldn’t believe how skimpy your legs are,” You speak around a mouthful of pancakes, perhaps not the best etiquette but you’re not trying to impress anyone. “Next time you hit the gym, work on your calves.”

“Skimpy? Skimpy?” He shoves his foot into your lap, forcing you to stare at his exposed calf as you try avoiding the sole of his flip-flop on your bare stomach. You shriek, and you try tamping down laughter that threatens to escape as you attempt to shove him off of you. 

“These things are tree trunks,” Jake insists, and when you finally manage to wrestle his leg off of you he leaves it on your side of the table, his foot resting just beside your own, close enough to touch.

“You want some?” Jake offers you a forkful of scrambled eggs, but you shake your head, leaning away from the fork.

“Fine. Picky.” Jake shrugs, eating the eggs himself, “How come you’ll eat off of Payback’s fork but not mine? You think you’ll get all blushy if our lips touch the same thing?”

“I’m thinking I’ll vomit, not blush,” You correct him, “Payback brushes his teeth every once in a while, so eating off of his fork’s no big deal.”

“Damn, you’re vicious today!” Hangman observes, but he doesn’t settle into the back of the seat like you’d expected him to. It unnerves you when he leans forwards, “I brush my teeth twice a day,” He insists, and this time his antics are a little more intense than hiking his foot into your lap, “See?”

He stands so that he can lean farther over the table, flashing his grin in your face like you’re the lens of a camera he’s modeling for. It’s so forcibly charming, so irritatingly dazzling that leaning away- showing weakness - doesn’t even cross your mind, and you’re stuck staring at his pearly whites mere inches away from them, a sour scowl on your face.

“No cavities in sight,” He drawls, “But if you don’t believe me, you can inspect it yourself. Thinkin’ your tongue might work.”

“You’re a sicko,” You decide, your face blank, if not a smidge downturned as you sit inches away from Jake’s grin in full-force, “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m embarrassing you.” He corrects, sinking back into the plush booth with a hiss of air and the spreading of his legs once more, “I can tell you’re blushin’ over there.”

“Must be an allergic reaction to something,” You sigh morosely, observing your plate, “There’s probably an ungodly amount of chemicals in all of this.”

“Tastes fresh to me,” Jake shrugs, reaching his fork across the table to pick at your fruit, “Give me that.”

“No- not the melon!” You clash your fork against his, an ugly scraping sound created by metal-on-metal as you fight to protect your fruit, “You can take anything else, just not the melon!”

“You can have my melons,” A smooth, melodious voice straight out of a porn intro comes from beside the table, and you and Jake look up in unison to see a woman in stiletto pumps and a skirt standing next to your seats.

Jake barely takes a second to process her bold words, and his face melts like butter into that greasy grin he’s always sporting around the ladies.

“Is that so? Well, thank you darlin’, that’s very kind of you. Might take you up on that if this one keeps holding out for a nobody.”

Jake points his fork vaguely, uncaringly at you, eyes still glued to the woman’s low neckline- her melons are, admittedly, nothing to sneeze at.

You find yourself incapable of speaking, so you take to pulverizing your fruit on your tongue instead of talking to the woman.

Once she and Jake have properly eye-fucked she struts away, and your nose curls to make way for a sneer at the clicking of her heels on the floor.

“What a bitch.” You retort, and Jake’s all-too-pleased with your indignance, “And those fucking heels? Who wears heels to breakfast on a cheap cruise?”

“Hey, I thought you were into all that girls-supporting-girls stuff,” Jake munches on a grape, “Ain’t that a little judgy? Maybe she feels pretty in the heels.”

“Girls support girls��� girls,” You insist, shaking your head disapprovingly, as Jake tries processing the tongue twister, “She was not a girls’ girl. She was trying to take my man!”

“Your man? I’m your man now?” Jake leans forward again, suddenly extremely interested in you rather than Miss Miniskirt, “When did that happen? The second someone else tried snatching me up?”

“No, you’re not my man,” You scoff, fork clattering against your plate, “But when we’re on a sex cruise together as unfortunate roommates, and we’re dining together, conversation flowing, clearly engaged with each other- when you were just leaning across the table asking me to lick your teeth two seconds ago- no girls’ girl would swoop in and try to take you away from me!”

“I think you’re just jealous,” Hangman points that damn fork at you again, and you still in your seat, prickling with annoyance, “I think you’re pretending to be all wrapped up in Daniel so that I go crazy, but it almost backfired on you when she started chattin’ me up. Hell, you called me your man! You can’t have it both ways, Y/N. Either let me go, or make me stay.”

“Go.” You seethe, eyes flashing with anger, with the indignance of being accused of puppetting him. You’ve been on edge this whole voyage, but something about his audacity combined with the sheer mortification of your dream last night means that your mouth is running without a filter. “I’m not pretending anything, Hangman, and- and I’m not going to ‘make you stay’, that’s ridiculous! I’m interested in Daniel. If you really want a woman who swoops in on what looks like a couple, then by all means, have at her. But you don’t get to bitch about Daniel and then act like I’m some controlling monster when I try to stop you from talking to bad ideas.”

“I’m not bitching about Daniel,” There’s a dangerous edge to Jake’s voice, the one that’s typically heard on the tarmac, “I’m trying to-”

“You’re trying to control me!” You accuse, and now it’s you that wields the fork, aiming it violently at Jake.

“I wasn’t done.” Jake snaps, but you don’t care.

You continue over his meager protests, “You are bitching about Daniel, 24/7. You’re trying to knock him out of the way so that you can schmooze me like you schmooze women back home, and it’s not going to work. You use people, Hangman, you hook up with women and then you push them away like they’re pathetic when they try staying with you for longer than a night! But I know you better than they do, and I won’t fall for it. You think I’m dumb? You think I don’t realize how much of a leg up you’d have at work if you got to tell everyone I fell for your little game? That’s why you want it so bad,” You huff, “You’re, like, obsessed with winning now- because I fly with you, and because I’m the only woman who’s ever told you no, you’re going crazy trying to get me to say yes! You are the one freaking out whenever Daniel talks to me! You are the one that’s clinging desperately to the unfortunate coincidence of us being roommates, and you are the one who refuses to let go. You won’t win. You cannot make me stay.”

Jake’s mouth had been open during your vicious speech, ready to fire back in a tone that would have made your skin crawl, but when you finish off, it falls shut. He stares, on the brink of disaster, one slip of the controls away from tailspinning. He’s always been like that: dangerous. 

You don’t give him the option to spin out.

“I’m not hungry anymore. You know what? You can have the fucking melon,” You stand, dumping your remaining fruit unceremoniously onto Jake’s plate as he stays frozen stiff, watching, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and score hers, but I doubt she’ll be interested if she’s not competing with anyone anymore.”

You barely remember to grab your belongings on the way out of the breakfast hall, and you don’t spare Jake another glance as you beeline for the elevators.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Two

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Suggestive themes, mention of rape, female masturbation, second hand embarrassment

Masterlist

You looked at the dishes piled up in the sink, a wave of nausea hitting you. A part of you was glad, comforted by the idea of having humans around yet you couldn’t shake the substantial feeling of dread.

What if they killed you? Or raped you? Or both? What would happen to your body? Would you turn? Would you just decompose and hopefully move onto a better place? Your mind thumped against the thick walls of your skull before you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. A hand clamped your shoulder.

“You ‘lright?” Price said, a comforting smile adorned on his face before you shrugged his hand off.

“Just fine,” you reply, a tight smile on your face, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.” They followed you upstairs, the pounding of their boots against the floor giving you a headache. You led them to a bedroom, the subtle smell of dust lingering as you took in the unused space. There was a double bed, a mint green quilt with pink roses adorning it, two pillows both placed neatly on either side. “You can figure out who goes where,” you say, pushing the door open from across the hall.

You walk into the second guest room, a queen sized bed splat in the middle, a dark blue quilt tucked in, a row of grey pillows furnishing the top. “There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. The plumbing still works somehow but don’t over-flush. You can have a shower but the water will be cold,” you say, attempting to sound intimidating as you avert your gaze.

“Thank you,” Price smiled, stepping inside the room.

Gaz and Soap offered you a squeeze on the shoulder quickly, a polite thank you leaving their mouth. Ghost however, sorted just stared at you, blinking slowly before turning towards the first room.

You find yourself thinking as you brushed Cecil, his grey fur shedding quickly as you stroked his behind, whispering small praises towards the large animal.

What if you tell them to leave and they don’t? What if they take over your house and kick you out? What if-

You stop yourself, rubbing your head in your hands as you lead the horses back to the barn, preparing dinner for the other animals before locking the door securely. You finished up outside, ensuring the crops were well watered before heading up the porch steps and through the back door.

Gaz was sat on the couch, a book in his hands as he looked up. “I hope you don’t mind, found it on the shelf.”

You kept your face straight but nodded, “It’s fine.” Truth be told, it was as comforting to have people around, the same as it was fearful. You knew that if they tried anything, they would win, no matter what gun you hold.

Time seems to be going quicker as you prepare a salad with some grown vegetables with bread. You were glad that your father was a chef, always teaching you how to make things from scratch. You didn’t like to dwell, hoping that somehow your family were immune too. Maybe one day, you would see them again. Maybe.

You placed the loaf of dough inside a tray before lighting the woodburner and placing it inside. You hummed softly to yourself as you heard footsteps against the wooden stairs. “Feeding us again, bonnie?”

“Only if it’ll get you guys to leave me alone,” you reply, not bothering to look at him. You hear his tongue click softly as he shuffles over to you.

“Y’ need help?”

You lowered the knife, gesturing for him to take over as you step outside, sitting on the old porch chair as you tuck your legs up, arms holding them in place as you stare out, the hues of the sun disappearing as the night begins to consume it.

As night falls, you head inside, hands reaching into the burner to grab the bread as you let it cool. You looked at the large bowl of vegetables tossed together, the men gathered around the never-used dining table, chattering amongst each other.

You let them sit for a while before calling out. It was entertaining watching the four grown men subtly walk faster than the other to get a plate first. You cut the bread, steam gauging out of each slice before you sat down at the dining table, fingers nervously fiddling with the metal cutlery.

They sat down around you, looking at you occasionally as you ate. “Listen, we do appreciate-“ Price began before you cut him off.

“You’ve told me. You can stay for the night but you’re off tomorrow. I prefer living alone.”

Price nods as the others look down, the sound of lettuce and carrot crunching filling the awkward void. As they finished up, you locked the doors and shut the blinds, the gentle hum of the fire comforting you before you head upstairs.

Your eyes flicker between pages of a book as you nestle in bed. You were clad in a sheer nightgown, your usual pyjama set hanging to dry outside. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read. While cliche, for a while everything felt normal when absorbing yourself between lines of paper, like you were simply escaping reality.

A gentle knock sounded on your door as you looked up. Price stood there, gentle smile on his face as he asked to come in.

“What is it?” You answered.

“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. Even if it was just for a day, it’s helped us a lot. Not many people, especially a woman alone, would let four men into her home… not during a time like this.”

Your body tensed for a second before it relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, placing the book on the side as you stood up to look at him closer. There was no use in lying, he was very attractive. His stern looking face covered with a bushy beard and moustache, blue eyes staring intensely under thick brows. He was older, the evidence of faint wrinkles indented on his forehead, yet his body was still in shape.

You were never a prude, but also never pushed for unnecessary encounters with the opposite sex. You weren’t an ugly girl, your features working well together, especially when you weren’t scowling.

“I-“ you begin, trying to think of what to say, “I appreciate you saying that. You guys are the first… real people I’ve come across since this all began. I know how difficult it is. And I suppose it wasn’t bad to reencounter civilisation.”

Price lets out a shallow laugh, hand coming up to squeeze at your shoulder as he looks at you. You don’t shrug him away this time, allowing the grip to scold your skin with prickling heat. You didn’t speak, simply watching him back through hooded lashes.

You felt your nipples pebble, the cold air brushing through as you remembered the warmth of your bed. You watch his gaze flicker down to your chest, sucking in a silent breath before he looked back up at you.

Had it been 296 days for him too without a woman? Had it been 296 days for all of them without a woman?

You didn’t shy away from his gaze, heat spreading across your body as you felt the timid intimidation of a low throb in your pussy. You offered him a small smile before gripping the door. “Goodnight, John.”

“Night, love.”

You felt like a fucking teenager, with your gown bunched up at your waist, hands timorous as they softly rolled the sensitive bud in a circular motion, gentle pants spilling from your lips. Everything felt more real, more heightened, probably from the lack of touching down there for months.

Dipping your fingers into your slit, legs spread and needy, you could feel the antagonising slick tease your hole, pooling at the crevice of your ass. This wet over a random man? You should feel ashamed, should, but you don’t. The light sound of squelching lit your room as you plunged a desperate finger into your heat, a rough gasp leaving your throat as you lie back further.

You tease yourself, left hand reaching down to entertain your neglected clit as another finger braced your entrance. Did it always feel like this? Did my fingers always not feel like enough? Like they needed something more?

A wanton moan stained the room as you thrashed your head against the pillow, sticky fingers just reaching that gooey spot inside you, swift thrusts causing your eyes to roll back.

You felt like a virgin again, pussy barely able to take two fingers and minimal thrusts before the coil in your stomach began to form.

Would it be so bad to call him in? Soak his beard in your cunt? Feel what it’s like to take two fingers properly? Maybe more?

You felt like you had a balloon growing inside you, every swift movement expanding it more, ready to pop, ready to let your body release, ready to feel satisfi-

“F’cking hell-“

You looked at the sudden burst of sound, eyes darting over to your least favourite in the house, visible crinkles in his dirty mask. His eyes visibly darting to your heat, taking in your fingers stuffed inside, the slickness coating them.

You squealed, orgasm barely washing over you as you twitched, pulling your fingers out abruptly and straightening your nightgown.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screeched, voice cracking as you wobbled to the door and slammed it shut, body leaning against it as you panted. You stilled, listening to hear his footsteps walk over but the comforting sound never came.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || eyeless jack || maid!reader (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: freaky ass demon sex, overstimulation, breeding kink, size kink, marking kink (?), jacks a freaky fuck with his tongues, choking, humiliation, ownership kink if you squint

You stared up blankly at the ceiling, your head throbbing with stress. Since your incident with Toby, you had been notified of Trenderman’s request for you to transfer to his mansion instead. Of course Slenderman declined, an action you were extremely grateful for. Despite your constant affairs with the mansions residents, you always found yourself craving more. Sure, your time with them was fun and hot, but it always left you desiring something more. You felt as though your pleasure wasn’t prioritized. You wouldn’t expect it to be, nor would you request it to a bunch of killers.

With all of that in mind, it left you aching with desire. An unscratched itch keeping you up late at night. It was a Wednesday, the one night a week Slenderman opted for you to sleep like a normal human. He said it was good for you to participate in traditional human behavior every now and then. The moon hung high in the sky, the mansion presumably vacant besides you. Even with that theory being very likely, you still hid in your bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You tucked your lip between your teeth, recounting the memories with the proxies. The way Masky fucked you with his gun, how Toby’s fingers felt around your throat, and how Hoodie thrust into you. You felt like a dirty perv, the way those thoughts turned you on so desperately.

Those thoughts alone were what made your hand slither underneath the band of your shorts.

Surely you were no saint, but the idea of getting off on just thoughts alone made you feel more filthy than anything else. It wasn’t like you had many options, porn just out of reach and your vibrator long forgotten at home. You slowly fluttered your eyes shut, dipping your index and middle finger in between your folds. Gathering your slick you drew slow circles around your clit, allowing yourself to let out a sigh of relief. Finally, your pleasure was being prioritized. Even if you would’ve rather done this with someone else, you were sure this would feel better, right? No one else could know your own body better than you did. You dipped your fingers into your cunt, your gummy walls clinging to your small digits. You whimpered at the sensation, out of pleasure and frustration.

As much as you wanted them to, your fingers just couldn’t reach where you wanted them to go. It was like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, your patience now growing thin. Deciding you just wanted to cum and get this over with, you brought your other hand to your neglected clit. Biting your bottom lip you exhaled, a soft whine clawing its way out of your throat. You had finally found a decent rhythm, your fingers going as fast as they could to power you through your orgasm. It was then an abrupt knock ripped you from your pleasurable facade, causing you to sit up. “Just a minute!” You called. Panicking you sat up, throwing your blankets off of you. You wiped your hands on your silk shorts, hoping and praying Slenderman of all people wasn’t on the other side of the door. Gripping the doorknob and swinging it open, you couldn’t conceal your puzzled expression at the sight of Eyeless Jack.

His own expression was hidden by his mask, his presence more ominous than anything. It was the first time you said seen him without a hoodie, a tight t shirt clinging to his muscles. “Is now a bad time? I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Jack said. You felt yourself become flustered, awkwardly clearing your throat. “Of course not, what’s up?” You sputtered. Ahh you were so naive, so adorable. Jack was surprised he had managed to keep his hands off of you for this long. “May I come in? I have a question,” Jack explained. You hesitantly took a step back, gesturing for him to come inside of your room. He was the first creep to ever be in there, your bedroom your one safe place hidden away from a group of serial killers. Jack seemed to realize this as well, modestly sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Lovely room. Suits you,” He commented. Unsurely you shut the door, clicking the lock. “You said you had a question?” You inquired. Jack leaned back on his hands, his mask tipped up just enough to where you could see a lazy smile form across his lips. “Why yes of course. I was going to ask you, how is it you get the most sexual interaction around here yet, you’re playing with yourself at night?” Jack asked, cockily tilting his head to the side. You felt your face turn red, your jaw slightly dropping. “Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You lied, trying to sound offended in your tone. Jack was quick to hop off of the bed, towering over you as he pressed you against your bedroom door. “I can smell you whore, don’t fucking lie to me,” He snarled. An animalistic growl had formed in the pit of his throat, the sound so feral it made you freeze in fear.

The terror dripping off of you was a divine smell and sight. But thankfully for you, Jack was the mood for more of a taste related ordeal. He cupped your small face, dragging his thumb mockingly down your bottom lip. He looked at you like he was examining you. “If I were you i’d answer the question,” He purred. You were speechless, the tall demon before you practically oozing with sex appeal. You could feel yourself growing wetter at the sound of his words. Jack grew impatient, sliding off his mask and tossing it aside. You stared up into his empty eye sockets, the black tar substance nearly dripping down his cheeks. “I’d start talking little one, you don’t wanna know what i’ll do if you don’t,” He purred. He relished in the fear in your eyes, your body frozen under his warm touch.

“I-I just get horny. It’s a normal human thing,” You babbled. Teasingly Jack stroked your cheek, grinning at the sight of goosebumps spreading like wildfire across your skin. “Your behavior either believes me to believe you’re part rabbit, based on your sex drive and adorable heartbeat,” Jack began. His fingers were warm against your skin, your body beginning to relax under his touch. “Or all of your sexual partners aren’t keeping you satisfied. So do tell. Which is it pet?” He asked. You swallowed nervously, the situation a little too lewd for your liking. “No they do it’s just-” You started, Jack placing his hand over your head abruptly cutting you off. He stared down at you with his soulless gaze, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer to you.

“Just what? Tell me pet, do they not make you cum?” Jack questioned, curiously tilting his head to the side. You blinked, your mouth running dry at the lewd question. “No they do and they have but I just, it’s hard to explain,” You rambled. Jack was now observing you like you were an experiment, instead of an enticing off limits meal. “Try,” He pried. You nervously toyed with your hair, pulling down your shorts. “I know it doesn’t matter but my pleasure isn’t prioritized, you know? Do you understand what i’m saying?” You confessed. Jack leaned back just a bit, enough to give you some fresh air to inhale that didn’t smell like his cologne. “I’ve spent many heats alone, I understand the desperation all too well,” He admitted. He strayed away from his position, resuming his place sitting on the end of your bed. He patted the space next to him, signaling for you to join him.

“Are you in heat right now?” You asked, hesitantly joining him on the bed. Jack chuckled, his laugh sincere. “No pet I am not. Trust me if I was you’d know,” He explained through his laughter. You raised an eyebrow. “I’d know? How would I know?” You asked. Jacks laughter came to an instant halt, his gaze somehow darkening. “Your cunt would be leaking with my cum if I was,” He said, seriousness lacing his words. You felt your thighs tighten at his words, your core throbbing. You couldn’t help but curiously glance down at his jeans, his cock halfway hard but visible through his pants. Woah.

“I don’t do much talking when i’m in heat. I become more, for lack of better words, animalistic,” Jack explained. You found yourself giving him an awkward smile. Of course the tall demon goes into animalistic heats. Why wouldn’t he? Makes complete sense. You mentally spited the creator of Craigslist. “Pet, i’ve come here with a purpose. And although I do enjoy genuine conversation with someone of your kind, I think it’s time I cut to the chase,” He proposed. He gently pushed your hair behind your shoulder, examining your bare neck. “Your arousal is so intoxicating i’d dare to compare it to the heroin your kind fonds over. You have your cravings and I have mine,” Jack continued. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, inhaling the crook of your neck. “I propose a trade off. We take care of one another,” Jack purred. He slowly licked a hot stripe up your neck, causing you to whimper.

“W-wait, what exactly is your craving?”

Jack chuckled darkly as he leaned close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “To fill you to the brim with my cum, pet,” He huffed. He pressed a kiss against your ear, leaving a trail of pecks down to your neck. His lips became heavier, threatening to suck at the skin. “I leave you a squirming mess and in return you allow me to have my fun at the end, sounds like a good deal, no?” He asked. You whimpered loudly as he began to suck at the skin, covering the marks Toby had left not too long ago. You wanted to maintain your dignity and pride. To tell him no, that you were more dignified than your previous actions made you out to be. But as he sucked a hickey onto your skin, his large hand dancing dangerously close to your dripping cunt, your mind swayed in the opposite direction. “Deal,” You breathed, the creature grinning into your neck.

“I thought you might say that,” Jack mused. He quickly grabbed you, tossing you onto the bed. He undid the buttons of your silk pajama top, halfway tempted to rip the fabric off all together. “Be careful what you wish for, pet,” Jack grinned. Your bare breast were a sight for sore eyes, the demons assault beginning harshly. Palming you through your panties he began sucking hickies on your breast, covering the sensitive flesh with marks. You whimpered at the sensation, your hands finding his hair as he littered your flesh with bruises. “I must admit, seeing you come out of that closet with Toby did something to me,” Jack confessed as he released your skin with a pop. He took your right nipple in between his index and middle finger, harshly toying with the sensitive bud.

“I’m not quite sure how to describe it, jealousy, perhaps?” He rambled. He kissed down your chest, pulling down your thin shorts and panties in one swift motion. “After all, Slender has never allowed me to have a pet before,” Jack snickered. He pushed two of his long, thick fingers into your aching cunt, causing you to whine at the sudden stretch. Jack was physically much bigger than anyone else you had fooled around with. Glancing down at his hard cock, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t going to fit. Jack noticed your unease, giving you a cocky smile. “Relax, i’ll make it fit. Just need this tight pussy to loosen up a bit first,” He purred. He seemed overly confident in his abilities, his fingers curling upwards and brushing against your g spot. You gasped, his fingers hitting all of the places you weren’t able to. You groaned as he continued to finger fuck you, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

“You know usually i’m not so talkative during these kinds of things. But I can feel your walls squeezing me at the sound of my every word,” Jack said. His gaze was daunting and endless as he continued his assault on your g spot, lowering himself down to hover over your folds. His hot breath fanned over your slick, causing you to buck your hips upwards. “Nuh uh pet, not quite yet. Want your first orgasm to be easy before we get into the real fun,” He grinned devilishly. You gasped as he held your hips down with one hand, the other mercilessly finger fucking you. His assault on your core was relentless, the demon above you relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing around his fingers. He could feel that you were getting close, your heart rate telling him everything he needed to know.

“Come on pet, show me how much of a slut you can be and cum on my fingers,” Jack purred. You grabbed at his wrist, your body unable to keep up with pleasure he was giving you. You felt your thighs tremble ever so slightly, your hips attempting to buck as you released on his fingers. You moaned his name as you came, your walls spasming around his digits. Dazed you watched him removed his fingers from you, revealing his three black tongues. Speechless, you stared as he licked your juices off of himself, keeping his gaze on you as he did so. “You taste so good. I think I want seconds,” Jack smirked, diving in between your thighs. You gasped as one of his tongues shoved itself inside of you, the other lapping at your clit. You froze as his third tongue teased your unexplored hole, your body tensing.

“J-Jack wait i’ve n-never-” You stuttered, Jacks tongue slowly pushing inside. His warm tongue made the stretch easier, your body slowly relaxing as he curled it inside of you. With his tongues in both holes you felt like you were floating, both of them abusing each hole. “Fucking shit! Jack!” You moaned, your head tilting back as you shamelessly tried to grind against his face. The pain from the stretch was almost immediately subsided, your thighs trembling as his large hands kept your legs pried open. You felt an unfamiliar sensation form in the pit of your stomach, your eyes screwing shut. “Jack! Feels too good,” You babbled, your orgasm crashing down over you without warning. Jack grinned as he removed his tongue from your clit and puckered hole, instead abruptly shoving them all in your cunt.

You whined as your walls spasmed around his tongues, struggling to accommodate to the girth of all three of them. Briefly he removed all of them, watching your cunt struggle and clench around nothing. “You wanted your pleasure to be the priority right? You’re getting what you wanted, my greedy pet,” Jack purred, his fingers digging into your thighs. He returned his three tongues inside of your cunt, curling upwards to abuse your sweet spot. You were seeing stars, your hands pawing at his hair. You attempted to yank him away from your overstimulated core, your body shaking. “So good, so fuckin, fuck- Jack! Too much, too fuckin much,” You whined, coherent thoughts long discarded as he tongue fucked you. You couldn’t do anything except take it, your body a slave to the pleasure as he brought you to another orgasm.

A silent scream was all your mouth could let out, your thighs attempting to close around Jacks head. The demon finally emerged from between your thighs, your cunt red and puffy. “You’re lucky your cunt taste so good, otherwise I would’ve had your organs instead,” Jack chuckled in a sinister tone. Your eyes widened, the demon flipping you over onto your stomach. You nervously looked up, the creature leaning over you. He rutted his large cock up and down the mounds of your ass, grabbing handfuls of the flesh. His comment about eating your organs normally would’ve scared you, but truthfully your mind was too clouded with lust and hazed with the thrill of what was to come next. You eagerly pushed your ass against him, signaling him to get on with you.

“You just came, what, three times? And you’re already wanting more?” Jack questioned mockingly. He smiled sadistically as he began to push himself inside of you, pain shooting through your body. “The more you fight it, the harder it is, relax,” Jack advised, nibbling at your earlobe. You grabbed handfuls of your sheets as he pushed himself inside of you, your body threatening to split in half. You gritted your teeth together, eyes screwed shut as he continued to make his way inside of your cunt. “There we go. Such a good pet. Taking what you’re made for,” Jack grunted. With one final push he bottomed out, your gummy walls clinging onto his cock. He could hear how fast your heart was beating, as well as the blood flowing through your veins. It only turned him on more, your pain and fear making thrusting into you harder to resist. Nevertheless he began moving his hips, ignoring your painful whines.

“You’ll adjust, I know you will. Just gotta learn to take it,” Jack huffed. He leaned forward on his knuckles, pounding into you from behind. Your painful whines became unholy moans, your eyes slowly blinking open to stare up at the demon above you. He enjoyed watching your face scrunch up in pleasure with each thrust, a demonic grin spread across his lips. “I think I may steal you for my upcoming heat, this cunt is begging me to make you my mate,” He snickered. He could feel you squeeze him as he snapped his hips into yours. “Oh you like that idea? Really? Becoming my mate? Do I fuck you that good?” Jack asked tauntingly. You gripped the sheets, mouth open as you stared up at him. “Yes Jack, shit, so fuckin good. Wanna be your mate, all yours,” You babbled. Jack roughly grabbed your throat, his fingers tightening around your airway.

He continued to abuse your overstimulated cunt, your g spot throbbing as he fucked you. “You fucking slut. You’d tell me anything if I kept fucking you huh? Pathetic,” He growled. He grabbed your face, forcing your lips to shut pucker out like a fish. Jack quickly spat into your mouth, a shiver running down your spine as he did so. “Swallow it slut,” Jack snarled. His saliva traveled down your tongue, before sliding down your throat as you swallowed. Roughly he grabbed your hair, shoving your face down into the sheets. He pounded into you relentlessly, your sinful noises now muffled. You couldn’t warn him you were about to cum, your body snitching on you anyways. He grinned as you creamed on his cock, his thrust not slowing down for a second. “You wanna be the center of attention right? Well now you are. Little cum dump,” He barked. You couldn’t think straight, your vision going hazy as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Mockingly he slapped your ass, the pain shocking you back to life.

“Don’t pass out on me, i’m no where done with you pet.”

[jolalibrary]

DO YOU WANT ME TO HOLD YOU?

javier peña x f!reader summary: javi offers comfort when you need it the most. warnings: none, just comfort on a bad day.

Just thinking about Javier Peña realising the moment you'd taken a seat at your desk that you’re different today. Something wrong, different. That you’re weighed down, sad.

There’s no snark, for one. No bite. There’s an absence of comments about the fact he’s wearing the fucking-red-devil-shirt. It niggling, bothering him, irking him as he tries to solve if you’re being quiet with him, or everyone.

It’s confirmed an hour later, when you make no snide comment to someone else—one you’d usually quickly jump on—that it’s a wider thing than just him.

He struggles to admit that he misses it, your sarcasm. practically hearing it in his head in the same tone you use when it’s just the two of you—there when he's walking you into his place right to the moment before he’s pinning you to his sheets.

And it takes him a moment, another half an hour before he can pull you into the file room, a hard stare reflecting at him.

This where you bring girls when you want a workday fuck, Peña?

He smirks, leaning against the door—taking it because it’s something. Better than nothing. Jaw slides to the side as he folds his arms, waiting, and waiting. Clearing his throat when he sees your façade falling.

“You needed a minute.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes at the idea. Fidgeting, likely feeling exposed—making his pulse quicken, as he hopes he’s not wrong, not overstepped. The air is so tense and silent, it's loud when he scratches at his jawline, when he runs his palm over his face.

“I’m okay.”

And he kicks off from the door. A considerable gap is still there, but the hard expression from earlier is gone, vanished, leaving behind evidence of a bad night's sleep and a head full of voices sketched across your face.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

You pull your head back, just slightly. Staring, before your eyes dart to the side, bottom lip quivering, blinking, likely swallowing back the lump in your throat as he takes in a heavy breath.

“No,” you whisper.

“Do you want me to hold you, hermosa?”

He watches it shift. Watches it arrive. The tremor first as your resolve begins to snap, to crack right down the middle as angry, tear-filled eyes meet him. He suspects there's hard-to-swallow thickness there in your throat as you nod, and he’s quick, arms engulfing, wrapping—clinging to put the parts of you together as you shudder and break.

It’s crushing, heart-wrenching. hand cupping the back of your head to his shoulder, other around your waist—a familiar place, but today’s circumstances are foreign.

Sob, after sob ripping through you, drowning out his own heartbeat. and then you cough, clear your throat.

“Gonna wet your shirt.”

He smiles, soft, light, just in the corners. “Don’t care.”

You hiccup, cling a little tighter, turn your head on him so you can look up, and he can see your swollen eyes.

“People will think you care.”

“Doesn’t sound all that bad…”

“Javi…”

He snorts, airy, gentle. pressing a kiss to your forehead, not loosening his hold on your hip. “Now I know something’s wrong, only call me that when you’re bouncing on my—”

Your hand firmly slapping his chest makes the rest of the words dilute. As he rests his head against yours, not letting go, not until you do.

jo needed comfort today 🫂 written on phone, so sorry for errors my loves.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Bared Fangs.

Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Modern/Serial Killer AU, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Blood/Gore, Reader Gets Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Gun Violence, and Unhealthy Relationships. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as Childe asked you if you wanted to go outside.

Honestly, you should’ve known something was wrong as soon as he found you reading in front of his fireplace, as soon as that crooked, schoolboy grin found its way to his lips and he forewent his usual routine of draping himself on top of you like some muscled, zealously homicidal weighted blanket in favor of ruffling your hair and toying with the collar of the flannel you were wearing (his flannel, technically, but you tried not to let yourself acknowledge how accustomed you’d grown to wearing your captor’s clothes or, more troublingly, how long it’d been since the last time you’d felt disgusted by it). “Snow should be done for a couple hours,” he started, nodding towards the frost-coated windows. It might’ve been a more charming sight if not for the scratches carved into the surface of the glass – souvenirs from there the first time you got your hands on one of his axes. “I’m thinking of stepping out, doing a little hunting before the storm kicks up again. Wanna come with me?”

You narrowed your eyes at your book, trying to hide the way your heart beat a little faster at the suggestion of being able to leave his claustrophobic cabin. But, with Childe, you were usually better off staying safely tucked behind the bars of your rustic cage. “Is this going to be a normal hunting trip or a you hunting trip?”

He only hummed. “’fraid I don’t know what you mean by that, princess.”

“Are we going to be hunting animals, or…” You trailed off, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with remembering why you were here. “… or, you know. People, or whatever.”

“This time of year?” He let out an airy laugh, like you’d asked to go skiing in the middle of summer. “There’s nobody on the mountain ’cept me and you.”

Still, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to try and think beyond your near-overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here. Childe was a murderer, a sadist, a kidnapper, but he wasn’t the type to play mind games. He tended to divide his reality between the world outside – where people could be hunted like quarry, their bodies left to rot in tents and rivers with only the occasional token taken as a keepsake – and the world inside the walls of his cabin – where he sat you down in front of a low-burning fire and told you stories about ice-fishing with his siblings and pouted when you admit his (admittedly, not entirely inedible) cooking could use a little more seasoning. After that first night – the worst night of your fucking life – he seemed to want to keep you resigned to the latter, at least until he came home covered in blood and desperate for something warm and familiar to fuck until he passed out.

Eventually, you sighed, closing your book and sitting up. “Fine. When do we leave?”

His grin widened, head lulling forward as he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “The front door’s already unlocked. I’ll give you a head start, a full five minutes. Actually, make it ten – just to make it a little more fun for you.”

 There was a beat of silence, then another. “Childe, you’re making it sound like you’re—”

“Like I said, there’s nobody on the mountain but me and you.” He pulled away, turning on his heel. “I’ll be nice, too – won’t use anything with more than a twenty-foot range.”

“But, you— you can’t just—”

“Tick-tock.” He clicked his tongue, winking at you over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather cut straight to the good part.”

You should’ve known something was wrong, and now, running through the frozen wilderness desperately lost and barely dressed, your ten minutes spent and a killer undoubtedly chasing you down, you were paying the price for it.

You didn’t have time to be tactical. The snow was fresh enough to make every interruption unbearable obvious, meaning that – even if you were willing to stop and spare the seconds it’d take to hide your tracks, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Your only option was to run, but even that was easier said than done. Childe preferred to keep you in a state of hand-crafted domestic bliss, meaning what few clothes you did have were either picked out by or borrowed from him. Currently, all that separated you from the cold was his flannel, an oversized shirt, and a pair of his boots that you’d snagged on your way out. The chill snapped at your cold legs like the teeth of some unseen predator, the frigid air burning holes in your lungs, but the thought of what Childe would do when he caught you was enough to keep your feet moving, to keep you sprinting blindly through the forest. He wouldn’t kill you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t kill you, but—

A high-pitched holler, the sound of branches snapping underfoot and foliage being pushed aside somewhere behind you. You hadn’t stopped running after your first trembling steps away from the cabin, and yet, he couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet behind you – half a mile, at your most generous guess. You started to curse under your breath, then thought better of it, biting down on your bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and pivoting to the left, where the forest seemed to be just a little thicker. If you couldn’t get away from him, you could at least try to hide before he got to you.

It was a haphazard, half-baked plan that was cruelly and immediately cut short as your foot caught on a root hidden by the snow, tearing away your right boot and leaving you sprawled over the frozen ground. Dampness sunk into your thin clothes, and you shut your eyes, trying to listen for Childe’s footsteps, but there was a reason none of his victims ever seemed to hear him coming. The forest’s minimal white noise was enough to swallow him entirely, the sound of birdsong and distant car engines disguising his presence despite your best attempts to—

Your realization was delayed, but intense.

Cars.

Cars meant roads. Cars meant civilization. Cars meant people, people who could take you away from here, away from Childe. You clambered to your feet, but failed to take so much as a step before a sudden, stabbing pain bit into your calf, your leg immediately buckling underneath you. You would’ve fallen entirely if it hadn’t been for the adrenaline running through your system, numbing the agony and choking the ragged scream that threatened to rise from the pit of your chest into a cracked whimper. It was one of Childe’s arrows – you would’ve been able to recognize that black steel from a mile away – but you didn’t let yourself linger on the implications. With grit teeth and balled fists, you limped forward, leaving a thin trail of crimson in your wake. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking, but it was there – a thin, wobbling, unpaved dirt road, only marked by two thin rows of tire tracks that sliced harshly through the otherwise unmarred blanket of snow. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see dirt.

There wasn’t time to think. You stumbled out of the woods and into the road, the arrow’s head sinking that much deeper with every stuttering movement. The car you’d heard was still there, too; a by-the-numbers sedan, only a few hundred feet down the road. You threw up your arms up, then thought better of it; cupping your shaking hands around your mouth. You moved to call out, but whatever you might’ve said was stolen away from you as something dark flashed across your peripheral and another arrow planted itself in your right shoulder. This time, you crumbled like a dead leaf – broken into pieces by a morning gale.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Childe emerge from the tree line, his crossbow still in-hand. As he came to stand in front of you, your gaze shifted back to the car. You watched, your mind buzzing with pain, as it disappeared around a sharp bend, never so much as slowing down.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard Childe coo, wiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks before they could freeze against your skin. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, his voice low with a painful edge. “I guess I cheated, huh? Couldn’t help it – just knew you’d look so cute all bruised up and bleeding.”

Dropping his crossbow carelessly, he fell to your height. He was dressed for one of his usual hunts; a cut-off shotgun slung over his back, a hunting knife sheathed at his hip. The leather casing of the latter pressed into your side as he dipped lower, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. You felt his knee settle between your thighs, and weakly, your hands found their way to his chest. “Not here,” you mumbled, more afraid of the chill quickly seeping under your skin than being seen. “It hurts, Childe. I—I think you hit something imp—”

“I’ll be fast.” Another kiss, this one to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His calloused hands skirted over your sides, then your waist, hiking the thin fabric of your oversized shirt up to your midriff. You were already past the point of total numbness, and yet, the rough gravel beneath the snow cut harshly into your exposed skin. Rather than distracting you from the pain in your calf, your shoulder, it only seemed to draw more attention to your bleeding wounds, only seemed to make it harder to ignore the dull heat of Childe’s mouth against your chest. “Gotta take you out more often. You’re always beautiful, but I didn’t know you’d look this pretty.”

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His arrow burnt into the tattered skin of your calf as his hands fell to your legs, groping at the plush of your thighs playfully before shifting his attention to the fly of his jeans. You knew what he wanted, he’d always been transparent, but the sound of shifting fabric, the sight of his rosy-tipped, stiff cock pressing flush against his stomach – that was enough for the loose coil of dread writhing in the pit of your chest to tighten into a tight, jagged knot of pure terror. You tried to sit up, to make your refusal that much more apparent, but Childe only caught you by your uninjured shoulder, shoving you into the ground with enough force to earn a pained scowl, a fractured whimper. His only response was a wordless, vaguely sympathetic noise, a softened lull to his wide smile. “No skipping out on this, babydoll. I can’t guarantee you’ll end up in one piece if I have to wait ‘till we get home.”

It was a fair warning, but anything he could have said would’ve been lost on you. Your heart was beating in your ears, blocking out any other sound. Pools of red blood and piles of limp bodies flashed across your vision and desperately, futilely, you clawed at the hand on your shoulder, kicked at his chest, thrashed underneath him like an animal unaware that resistance would only make the predator want to drive its teeth that much deeper. It was more Childe’s divided attention than your strength, but your heel found his side and, just for a moment, he slipped, letting out a soft grunt as the hand pinning you down fell away. You were scrambling onto your knees in a second, attempting to get your feet underneath you in another, but your little stunt was cut short as Childe lashed out, wrapping his arm around your neck and forcing your stomach against the ground. There was no whimpering, anymore – just a ragged, ear-piercing scream as his free hand found the arrow in your shoulder, tearing it out of you in one clean, unfaltering motion. His only response came in the form of a throaty moan; deep and terrible and followed immediately by the feeling of his cock against your dry cunt. You would’ve begged him to stop, offered to let him do anything he wanted to you if he just didn’t do this, but he didn’t give you time to bargain. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

Trembling sobs tore at your throat and past your lips, tears now flowing unabashedly down your cheeks. Childe kept his full weight against your back as he fucked into you with short, sharp thrusts – never happy unless he was burying himself in the deepest pocket of your poor, freezing pussy. Rather than desensitizing you, letting you fall back into some distant state of nonexistence, the snow seemed to burn where it was pressed into your cheek, your chest. You wished he would’ve taken off the rest of your clothes. You wished he would’ve just shot his stupid arrows into your skull and put you out of your misery.

It shouldn’t have felt good, you didn’t want it to feel good, but your body didn’t know that. Your cunt clenched and drooled around him, trying in vain to turn his assault into something you could enjoy, but the way he grunted into your ear snuffed out any pleasure you might’ve been able to feel. “Tryin’ to pull me back in,” he muttered, his voice already airy, already strung out. You couldn’t help but wonder if, had you only been able to run from him for another minute, he would’ve found something else to shove his dick into and left you out here to freeze to death. “Is that your goal? Wanna – Fuck, wanna help me warm you up?”

His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass flush against his hips and letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much more brutally. Your injured leg grated against the dirt of the road and you cried out, your voice ragged and barely coherent. “St— Hurts, stop, stop, please, stop—”

“That’s it, always making such pretty sounds for me.” He buried his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Sometimes, it feels like all I wanna do it cut you open and crawl—”

He was interrupted by the dull roar of an approaching engine and something brightened inside of you, your eyes shifting towards the road, towards the well-beaten pick-up truck speeding in your direction. The breaks screeched as you and Childe came into the driver’s view, and for a second, you let yourself go slack underneath him, relief overwhelming your better judgement.

Childe wasn’t so sentimental.

His shotgun was in his hand before you could so much as process that he’d moved. Wordlessly, he fired off two shots; the first to the windshield on the driver’s side and the second to one of the front tires. You watched on helplessly as your last hope for salvation bucked, swerved, then veered off of the road entirely, catching on a snowbank and turning over once before crashing into the trunk of an oak that failed to so much as shake under the force of the collision. It was quieter than you’d expected it to be, the only sounds that of shattering glass and crunching metal. If there were survivors, no one screamed, or called for help, or came stumbling out of the wreckage. Childe’s breath hitched in his throat, his pace growing that much more erratic as he buckled into you – his pointed canines finding the tender junction at the base of your throat and burying themselves in your skin. It was less a love-bite and more an effort to eat you alive. What little blood he didn’t lap up washed over your chest, melting the frost and mixing into the snow beneath you. “Look—” He groaned, tried and failed to pull away from you. His voice reverberated against the curve of your neck as he went on. “Look what you turn me into, princess. Got me making all kinds of messes for you.”

Blood. Bodies. The taste of his cum on your tongue as your friends bled out under the same roof. You would’ve choked the air in your lungs if you’d been able to breathe, but there was no point lingering on pleasant hypotheticals. There were no distractions from the feeling of Childe’s hips grating against yours, the way his cock twitched as settled against you. A guttural moan tore past his lips as something thick and searing flooded into you, and you refused to let yourself acknowledge that this was the warmest you’d felt in days.

You stayed there, limp and frozen and miserable, as Childe pulled away from you, pulled out of you. Your eyes fell shut as he stumbled to his feet, your skin too numb to feel anything aside from the pressure of his arms around your motionless body. He pulled you against his chest, then let out a low whistle. “Might’ve gone a little overboard there. Sorry ‘bout that, princess.” A low chuckle, a gentle squeeze. “I just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. You’ll forgive me after a warm bath, right?”

You didn’t answer. The arrow in your calf must’ve fallen out, or maybe not – you couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your hands felt like dead weight too, utterly disconnected from anything you might’ve used to control them, but every drop of panic, every ounce of horror – that all paled in comparison to the never-ending pit of pitch-black loathing that formed in your chest as you stared up at Childe. You hated him, wanted to see him torn apart with his own stockpile of weapons, but you really couldn’t blame him. Not for this, at least.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as the monster bared its fangs.

[blckbarbiedoll]

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak? (Wade Wilson x f!black!reader)

CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT (mentions of oral sex, p in v sex, swearing, Wade in general) probably ooc, cheesy nicknames, wrote this in the middle of the night 😭🙏🏾

based on this post by @megantheestallion-ismypresident

word count: 1.2k

Never in a million years did you expect to be dating a mercenary. More specifically, Deadpool himself. And never in a million years did you expect to find a boyfriend that matched your freak (and stamina).

When Wade learned what you did for a living, he didn’t turn away like past lovers. Instead, he embraced your sexual freeness. Encouraged it even.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you?”

You both laid under the covers in his bed, a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. He passed a freshly lit blunt to you after taking a puff for himself.

“Baby, I literally crack skulls for a living. I’m not in a position to judge anyone’s occupation here.”

“Guys usually run for the hills when I tell them.”

“Girls usually run for the hills when they find out what I do. Not to mention when I take the mask off. And yet, here you are.” He took the blunt from in between your fingers. “So either you really like me, or you’re just as fucked up as I am, peanut.”

“Both?”

“Both sounds about right.” You both chuckled and kissed each other softly, basking in the afterglow of your pleasure.

Although most of the time you would film alone (which you didn’t mind), Wade would join on occasion. And it seemed that whenever he did, your views skyrocketed. Usually, only his fingers or his dick would make an appearance on your channel. Not only was he a mercenary with too many people out looking for him, but he was convinced that his face wouldn’t appeal to your audience.

“Trust me, babe, this ugly mug is the last thing people wanna see when they’re rubbing one out.”

“Really? ‘Cause your face is the first thing that comes to my mind.”

“You and the readers both.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You and Wade had returned from your weekly date night, which also happened to be one of your filming days. He was about to follow the routine of leaving you to it and going into the living room to wait for you. That was until you called him.

“Wade?”

“Yes, sugar bear?” He stuck his head in the doorway.

“Don’t you wanna join me?” You slowly slipped off the dress that hugged your curves, letting it drop to the floor. The absence of the dress revealed a matching red lace set. “I bought this for you.”

His mouth fell slightly agape at the sight of you. If this was a cartoon, he’d have big heart eyes. “Fuck.” Was all he could say in response.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a big fuck yes!” He kicked the door shut as he walked closer to you, lifting his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

“Hold on.” You grabbed your camera and tripod, making sure to set it at the right angle. After checking the video and sound quality, you grabbed Wade’s hand and led him over to the bed.

“Camera’s a little high there. Don’t wanna accidentally catch a glimpse of my face. It’ll crack the lens.”

“Would you stop? You are so fucking hot.”

“Well, that makes one person who thinks so.”

“Babe, I’m serious. I wanna record us for real. And not just one part of you. I wanna be able to look back on a video of us. All of us.”

”It’s that important to you?”

“Yes. And if you really don’t like it, I won’t post it. It’ll be just for us.” You looked up at him with your big brown eyes, practically begging him.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “You know I can’t say no to you, chocolate drop.”

“I know.”

“Alright, fine. But you better get my good side.”

And that’s how you found yourself in this position (literally and figuratively). Wade had already eaten you out twice with a blowjob in the middle of each of them. But now, he had you on your back, hips in the air as he ruthlessly thrusted into you.

Almost a hour into recording, you both were in a trance. His large hands held your hips up so he could fuck into you easily. Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to hit all the right spots. You gripped onto his toned arms for support, feeling the divets in his skin under your fingers. “So good, baby.” You barely breathed out. He was fucking your brain to mush and he knew it.

“Yeah? You like this dick inside you?” He harshly grunted, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “You like when I fuck you like this for everyone to see?”

Your nails dug into his skin as you threw your head back against the mattress. “Yes.” It was barely even a whisper, but it was all you could say given your current state.

He moved one of his hands up your leg that was rested against his shoulder. He gripped your ankle and pressed soft kisses against it. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

"Oh my god." You gasped, feeling your orgasm build with each thrust.

He looked between you and the camera before turning your head to look straight at the lens. "Show everyone how good you can take me."

“Wade.” You whined. “Please.”

“Please what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

“Make me cum. Please?”

There goes those eyes again. The ones that could make Wade do anything and everything you wanted. How could he deny his pretty baby?

"Is that it?" He reached down to circle your aching clit with his thumb. "You wanna cum on my dick?"

"Fuck!" You gasped at the feeling. "Yes!"

He lifted your other leg onto his shoulder and bent down to kiss you. He had you folded like a fucking pretzel and you were loving every second of it.

"Holy shit, baby." He groaned. "I'm fucking close."

"Inside me."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Please? I wanna feel you fill me up."

"Motherfucker." His grip on your hips was getting tighter, and his thrusts got sloppy. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Mhm."

"I know. I can feel you fucking squeezing me."

"Oh, god." You felt your pleasure building in your lower stomach. Wade continued his movements until you finally finished. "Fuck, Wade!"

"That't it, baby. Cum all around my dick."

His breath hitched in his throat as you felt his hot release fill you up. He waited a few moments before gently sliding out of you and falling down onto the mattress.

"Fuck." You sighed. "That was..."

"Really fucking good."

"Yeah. Really fucking good." You leaned over to grab the camera, pausing the recording. "Ready to see?"

"I guess."

He sat up as you played the video. His face went from a grimace to complete awe. Once he saw the both of you and how your bodies moved together, he was done for.

"So?"

"Can you send that to me?"

You laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Of course."

"You should peg me."

"I have pegged you."

"On camera."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah."

"The viewers would love that."

"So would the readers."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it. Go get the strap."

[thisismeracing]

Timeless | CL16

⸺ the one where you dream about a guy you’ve never met before as your fiancée. ✓ kind of soulmates!au; fem!reader (she/her). 0.7k words

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Your bare feet clapped against the cold hardwood floor as you sleepily walked into the dark house. It was too foggy, you weren’t even sure you were looking for something –or rather someone until you saw his broad form lying on the couch. The TV was on lighting the living room space, and he was in an awkward position, one leg up on the back of the sofa, one arm hanging off to the ground where a small golden dog lay. You smiled.

He looked soft.

He looked comfortable, even though the position seemed nothing like it.

Your legs moved at his own pace to his side, bending just enough to pet the dachshund and sitting in the small space beside the man. He stirred. He was a light sleeper.

Your fingers found their way to his bare chest, dancing the path to his jaw and then his chocolate hair.

You kissed the rosy skin of his face just like the sun did a couple of days ago. He burned so easily, yet his skin always got a perfect amount of golden mixed with the few burn spots.

“Amour?” He whispered, eyes still closed.

“Oui,” you tried the words and loved how they tasted in your tongue. Just how he taught you during sleepless nights. “I missed you in bed,” was your confession.

“Leo was scratching the door for a snack break, I came down to feed him and ended up falling asleep while waiting for him to finish,” he explained, sitting up just enough to face the dog peacefully snoring on the ground. “Let's go to bed,” he called, kissing your exposed shoulder and getting up.

He laced your fingers together and you walked hand in hand to your bedroom. There was a candle lit near the bathroom door – he liked candles and you liked to have a bit of light when you needed to pee in the middle of the night. The sheets were messy but still warm. It smelled like the two of you.

He lay down, grabbing your sides and propping slightly on top of him. His warm lips found your temple, and your mouth searched for his like a prayer begging to be said. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, and you sighed before pecking his jawline and closing your eyes so that sleep could find you again.

Your alarm blarred in your room making you jump from the covers. It took you a second to realize you were alone. And not alone in the sense that someone once was there, but alone in the sense that the spot beside you in bed was never previously occupied in the first place. You had no dog. No warm lover. It was all just a dream.

Something weird ached in your chest, but you tried brushing it off and going on with your morning. Mornings turned into days, days into weeks, and still something felt off. You kept feeling the warmth you felt in that dream. Kept imagining the same guy whose face was now starting to blur. Did he have green or blueish eyes? Was his hair brown or black? Did he had dimples? Did he speak French all the time or just small bits?

He plagued your mind.

You tried your best to forget - even if by doing so part of you felt guilty, for what you were not sure. Yet, you kept going, kept reading new books, watching new shows, and going to your spot in the park to watch the leaves and ducks.

It was a Tuesday when it happened. You were lying on a picnic blanket with a book. The weather was slightly cold, but not enough to bother you. There weren't many people around, and that is why you frowned when you felt something sniff your hair, right after someone called out “Leo!!! Viens ici!” 

*come here!

The French accent lit your body giving you warmth even with the cold wind. There it was the small dog, the golden dog, the one he left bed to feed. And there he was, greenish eyes, chocolate hair, dimples when he smiled, and the most beautiful accent you’ve ever heard.

“I’m so sorry for him,” he apologized once you were face to face, but you dismissed it with a headshake still too stunned to speak. “I’m Charles, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Charles. I’m Yn.”

He smiled when his palm found yours, and just like in the vision, everything felt warm and cozy.

He was real. And something told you that part of your dream was too.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! A couple nights ago I had a weird dream just like in this small blurb, I tried but I still can't put into words how it felt - besides magic. I dreamed of a guy whose features I started to forget since I woke up, he was warm and soft, I don't remember his voice but I was pretty sure he loved me, maybe he never said it to me like in this blurb, but I felt it. Anyways, not gonna overshare, but yet I needed to get a bit of it out of my chest cuz I dunno how to feel. Hope you guys like this very self-indulgent piece. *mwah* if you do, make sure to reblog and send it to a friend.

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

[webslingingslasher]

imagining frat!peter trying to last longer during sex so he starts to actually watch friends and forgets he’s literally inside y/n and she notices and just goes “…peter?”

the below contains smutty content.

usually there was music playing downstairs and while it was muffled it still filled the room, making it easier for you to confidently whimper and moan like peter loves.

tonight, you had snuck in around two in the morning, (peter’s pissed you didn’t tell him until you called him and told him to open the door cause it was two fucking am and you walked alone) because you were a new kind of desperate, foaming at the mouth with urgency horny. hornier than you’ve ever been in your entire life, obviously, because it made you get out of bed and walk across campus.

“for the love of christ do not tell me you walked here,” was the first thing he told you. your response was giving a sheepish smile and looking down to your feet, your pajama pants wet around the ankles from sprinklers on the campus green.

“my pants are wet,” you pull at the fabric and blink at your boy in the doorway. he sighs, and moves to the side letting you in it’s unusually quiet, while they did whind down during the week, usually one or two people would be up, tonight everyone was in bed.

the second the front door was shut you attacked peter and wrapped your arms around his torso, clinging around his neck. bringing your knee up to tap against his hip, his hand cups under your leg and picks you up, locking your ankles around his back.

“what are you doing here?” not upset, just curious. you’ve never rushed over in the middle of the night before.

in turn you kissed him, so brash it caught him off guard but he returned it. confusion spread as you kissed around his face, thinking of the most plausible thing he makes his grip tighter, his voice soft.

“did you have a bad dream?” your blown out pupils look at his mouth, shaking your head lightly you whisper out a ‘no.’

“then what is it?” his left hand scratches softly at the back of your thigh.

“i’m really horny,” you lick your lips and look at him like, ‘okay, now do something, please?’

peter nearly chokes on his spit, you’ve never flat out asked for it. instead using other signals like licking up his neck, or taking your shirt off and bouncing your breasts at him. tonight you were aching for it, and you were his girl. and he could never leave his girl high and dry.

“and what? couldn’t solve the issue on your own?” he feels you pout into the skin of his neck after you kiss it.

“you just do it so much better, and way less work on my end.”

peter exhales through his nose as a laugh, “i think it was more work to walk all the way here,” you give him a dopey smile, “isn’t it obvious how much i like you?” there were two ways to take the sentence, to protect both parties at stake peter takes it in the ‘wildly horny’ way.

two pats on your backside and you hop down, no other words spoken, just peter extending his arm towards the staircase and gestured for you to go up.

————

it was completely silent in his room, every kiss and whimper amplifies from the walls. embarrassed to wake his brothers you have a shy smile, “do you think you can make it like… not so quiet?”

peter’s already half naked, while he pulls away and reaches for his tv remote you remove your shirt and shimmy your underwear off.

hearing the familiar ‘dun dun’ of the app you look up, one row down and one click in was his saved shows and movies. number one was friends, immediately selecting it and pressing play episode from the last time he had it on for background noise.

you chewed on your cheek as he raised the volume, your legs pulled up so your knees were tugged into your chest.

“louder?” peter spoke over his shoulder.

“a little,” he clicks it three more times, you hum, “that’s good.” he tosses the remote to his desk and turns, you spread your legs and grin at him.

he’s right where you want him, he recives the message and slithers back up the bed, his hands wrapping around your knees and hooking them behind his shoulders. peter looks over your slick and blows cold air on it, you jolt and reach out to grab a handful of his hair.

“jesus christ, you weren’t lying.”

————

third episode of friends and you can’t remember the last time you had a fulfilling breath of air.

peter’s had you withering on the bed for an hour, taking his time using every part of himself to satisfy you.

tears blister your eyes while you dig your nails into his back, your hips rising from the bed to meet his, peter’s own breath hitched as he fucked into you.

peter pulled back slowly, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his brows furrowed. you know that look, it’s the look that says ‘no, i’m not fucking done yet.’ but you just feel so good, it’s the ‘your pussy is fucking lethal’ look.

catching sight of the TV, he thrust just as slowly as he pulled out, you hiss and pull at the back of his thighs to bring him in closer. when peter doesn’t move you try to do it for him, grinding your hips into his, but his attention is on the tv show, not the person his dick was in.

you whine and pull at his neck, when he gives you reaction you tug lightly on his dangling necklace.

“peter,” you buck your hips up and he gives a pity thrust, it’s enough to make you hum in delight, but he gives nothing else.

“peter, i need you, please?” the last word was in beg of his attention, can’t be he see how much you need him?

“shush, this is my favorite episode,” you grunt when he thrusts as deep as you can take him, while he hums watching monica and chandler kiss for the first time.

“if we switch to doggy will you please fuck me while you watch?”

a deep sigh, “if you insist.”

twenty minutes later you’re lured into sleep while posted on peter’s chest as he drags his hand up and down your naked back, melting in further when you hear him quote along with the show under his breath.

[pedrostylez]

I’m Here When You Need Me

Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot

Warnings: Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊

He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.

The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.

“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.

“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.

He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.

You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.

He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.

But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.

A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.

Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.

He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.

The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.

Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.

When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”

Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.

“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”

Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–

“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.

Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”

You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.

He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.

“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.

But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.

No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.

He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.

He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.

He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.

It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.

He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”

“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.

Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”

He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”

“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”

Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”

“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.

He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”

Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.

You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”

Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”

Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.

Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.

He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.

His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”

“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”

“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”

“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”

“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.

He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.

You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.

Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.

When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.

You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.

But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.

He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.

He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.

There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.

You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.

You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.

“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”

He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”

“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.

He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.

He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”

“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.

Honey.

You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.

“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.

You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.

And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”

You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.

“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”

He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”

“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.

He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.

You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”

He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”

He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”

You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”

He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”

You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.

Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.

Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.

[kkuraissante]

✧ ultimate bias ✧

In which y/n is a big fan of Sakura (ft. aespa!y/n)

[y/n confessing her love for Sakura during an interview]

“so, y/n who is your celebrity crush?” the radio host in front of her asked. 

hearing the question, the rest of her members looked at each other, sharing a knowing glance. “huh, well… I think some of the fans may noticed it based on my phone wallpaper, but my celebrity crush is sakura from le sserafim.” y/n admitted shyly, lightly scratching the back of her head.

“I actually became her fans during pd 48 and have been her fans ever since. You don’t know how happy I was when I heard that she will debut again into a new girl group after the disbandment. I cried so hard after watching the intro videos,” y/n confessed. 

karina laughed after hearing her comments, “yeah, you wouldn’t believe how crazy she is for sakura. she collected albums and merch, basically a hardcore fan”.

“no, but do you guys remember how she sneaked out of the dorm during our free time to attend izone fansign? It was legendary. She talked our ears off about sakura that day�� giselle added, groaning at the memories. 

the host and members laughed hearing the remarks. 

“well, I mean, who could blame me, she was perfect. a literal angel.” y/n tried to defend herself. “hopefully I will be able to go to her fansign again” y/n sighed happily at the thought. 

“you heard it guys, you need to steal y/n heart from sakura” the host joked.

[y/n’s room tour during her vlog]

“hi guys, today I will be showing you my room” y/n waved at the camera, standing outside her bedroom door. 

“so, here is the entrance. this is a custom-made sign that I bought on the internet and essentials to keep my sanity,” y/n gestured to a red sign that read ‘yoo jimin do not enter unless permitted’ in the middle of the door.

opening the door, y/n waved her hand excitedly for the camera, “welcome to my sanctuary.”

“first thing first, this is my closet, it’s a little messy since we’ve been busy these past few weeks, but its usually not this bad, I promise!” y/n said seriously, raising her pinky finger up.

“here is my desk, with my gaming setup. I’ve been playing valorant and lol whenever I’m free. over there is my keyboard and guitar wall. the black guitar is a gift from jimin unnie and the white one is from taeyeon unnie. this is actually my first guitar that I bought with my money” y/n showed everything before raising a red fender Stratocaster, showing it proudly. 

“moving on, this side is the bed. it looks comfy right?” y/n shoot the bed before raising the camera upwards, showing the hanging shelf, filled with albums, mainly her senior and izone albums. “and here is my album collection. most of these are gifts from sunbaenim during promotion and the only albums that I bought myself are the izones one” y/n smiled proudly at the camera. 

“look, this one is signed by all members” she showed the bloom*iz album. “Sakura was so pretty during this era,”

“and this is my photocards collection” y/n opened a photo album. “it’s mostly Sakura but I have other people too. this one is my favorite,” y/n raised sakura perfect night pc, “she look so cute with the glasses right?  oh!  I also want to flex a little, are you curious? this is not sakura, but I really like it” y/n show off a chaewon photocard. “ I think this is one of the rare photocard and are sold very expensive, so i’m really happy that i have it. also, chaewon-ssi looks so pretty here"

“so, that’s all for my vlog. thank you for watching the video. I love you MY’s, byee” y/n blowed a kiss at the camera before the vlog ended. 

[karinanana]: y/n is literally one of us

[y/n_wife]: I never expect that I will finally see an idol that collect photocards

[fimmily222]: y/n is the biggest sakura stan. we have an idol piona!!

[amboya.amboya]: I know the rest of her members are tired hearing her fangirling over sakura. look how much she rambled about her throughout the vlog. 

[thirstyfory/n]: the rare chaewon pc is killing me

[y/n showing her things during live]

“hi! Welcome to my weverse live!” y/n grins at the camera in front of her before reading the comments on her phone. 

“unnie, what items has you bought recently?” y/n read out loud. she scratched her chin before standing up abruptly, “wait a moment guys, let me pick some stuff up” she apologized, moving out of the frame, towards her bedroom. after 5 minutes she came back, holding a bunch of stuff on her arms.

“sorry for the wait but I’m back! let me review all the things that I bought recently” 

“first thing! its a t shirt” y/n raised a white t shirt, “it’s very cute right? i bought it in Japan during one of our schedules”

“this hoodie is also bought in Japan” y/n raised a black chrome hearts hoodie, “now I have a matching hoodie with Sakura” she blushed slightly at the thought.

remembering that its live, she tried to change the subject, quickly picking up the next item which is a headphone accessory. “oh, I bought it because it look cool, like, why does sakura always wear the coolest stuff” y/n whined at the camera. “she’s just so perfect”

“and the last thing is this” y/n raised a big basket filled with knitting yarn and needles. “I’ve noticed that sakura has been knitting a lot recently and I want to also try it. maybe trying to give her a handmade beanie if i succeed later”

“this is the first thing that I make” y/n picked up what looks like a knitted leaf. “it’s for headphones, but I think I screwed it to the point its unrecognizable, it’s way too crooked and ugly. minjeong teased me the other day saying that a year old could do it better than me” y/n pouted, remembering the teasing that she has to endure from her members that day.

“let’s move from my bad knitting projects…”