#pushing daisies collection

[brokenmenswhore]

potions | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus invites his potions partner over to his family home to “help her practice”

warnings: DUBCON (MDNI 18+), choking, smut, rough sex

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When Regulus invited you into his home to use his in-house potions lab, you were suspicious. Regulus always had a darkness to him, and as your potions partner, he was never cruel to you, but he wasn’t the type to make such a kind gesture.

You accepted, knowing you could really use the extra practice. Regulus was talented at potions, and you felt bad that you were barely any help in class. As strange as it may be, you figured some extra time would benefit you, and Regulus could teach you and thing or two, if he felt kind enough to do so.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you through the door.

You smiled as you followed him through the house, the lighting almost as dark as his all-black outfit.

“I keep my potions stuff in here,” he said, pushing open the door to his bedroom.

“In your bedroom?”

“Mhm,” he responded, completely nonchalant about the fact you were in his personal space, while you felt it was a little strange. You didn’t know him too well, though you were attracted to him, and now you were only a few feet away from his bed.

He walked over to the table. “You coming?”

You swallowed and approached him, looking at the large collection of jars and ingredients spread out on the table.

“Should we maybe let your parents know I’m here? That there’s someone else in the house?”

Regulus chuckled. “The only other person here is my brother.”

“Sirius is here?”

Regulus shot you a look. You and Sirius had a weird past- you hooked up a few times at parties, you caught feelings and he didn’t, and you never spoke again. It was all ancient history, but you still tried to avoid being around him at all costs.

“Why does it matter?” Regulus asked.

“It doesn’t,” you spoke in a small voice, drifting your attention to the table, “so? What first?”

“Figured we could maybe just make sure you’re set on ingredients,” Regulus said. Everything he said was so dry, low, and monotone, and it sometimes made conversation hard.

“I think I’m comfortable with the ingredients side of things,” you told him.

“You’re not.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” you fought, “I know my own skill levels, Regulus.”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was so nonchalant about everything, reorganizing ingredients and setting up potion recipes as he spoke, as if anything he said didn’t matter.

You sighed and gave up fighting it, letting him take control and decide where to go from here. There was no point in going back and forth on the same thing over and over again.

“How about we just start with Shrinking Solution?” Regulus asked.

“Fine by me,” you answered.

Regulus backed away from the table, watching you do nothing. You looked back at him. Did he expect you to just do it?

“Well?” he said, “make the potion.”

You sighed. Sometimes he was so annoying and condescending. You looked at the unlabeled recipe and removed 7 red rose petals from a case of singular petals.

You began to drop them one-by-one in the boiling water. You looked at Regulus, who nodded at you to keep going. “How difficult,” you said sarcastically.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

You added five drops of essence of violet, stirring counterclockwise exactly twelve times.

“I don’t remember shrinking solution having essence of violet,” you told Regulus.

“Are you claiming my recipes are wrong?”

“No, I’m just saying.” You sighed and continued with the recipe, counting out 4 cloves and prepping canary flight feathers.

He didn’t say a word, just watching you make the potion, until you had completed the instructions.

“I also don’t remember it being pink,” you pouted, looking confused at the pot.

“I could have sworn this potion had daisy roots somewhere-“

“Would you relax?” Regulus questioned.

“Something just feels off about it,” you said, inspecting the liquid.

“Does it smell right?” he asked.

You leaned in and sniffed. The potion smelt like lavender, vanilla, freshly cut grass, and all your favorite smells.

The smell maintained throughout the smoke that you breathed in, overtaking your senses and filling your lungs. “Fuck that smells good,” you giggled.

Regulus crept behind you as silently as he could. When you stood up, he was directly behind you, your back almost banging into his torso.

You spun around to meet his gaze. “Can I help you with something?” you asked.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you were suddenly overtaken with adoration.

“I think I probably can,” you said, all logic going out the window as the potion took over your emotions, your focus completely on Regulus.

“Atta girl,” he tsked, gripping your waist as he looked down at you. “How you feelin’, pretty girl?”

You were overcome with intense emotion, but you fought to remain grounded in reality. “You motherfucker,” you said, letting Regulus know that you were aware he had you make the wrong potion. This was not Shrinking Solution, this was Amortentia.

“No idea what you’re referring to,” he said.

“You know,” you started, twirling his already wavy hair in your fingers, “you could have just asked if you wanted me.”

“Now could I?” he asked, intrigued and eager to hear you continue talking.

“Mhm.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Why?”

“You slept with my brother, did you not?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “And you know that how?”

“He’s my brother,” he said, holding you closer to him, his tone finally lifting to a bit lighter of a place, “and I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You giggled. “Have not.”

“I have been,” he admitted, “had to make sure you weren’t fucking anyone who didn’t deserve you.”

“I haven’t been fucking anyone,” you told him honestly.

“I know.”

“You wanna know why?”

His gaze darkened.

You sighed, “the only person I’ve wanted to fuck is standing right in front of me.”

Regulus growled, gripping your waist even harder and pulling you even closer. “Then what did I do all this work for? Getting you over here, the Amortentia, you’re telling me I worked for it for nothing?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, amused at how much thought and planning went into getting you here. You weren’t obvious about your attraction to him, but it couldn’t be that hard to notice.

“I feel drunk on you,” you admitted.

Regulus smiled. You had never ever seen him smile before. You didn’t even know he was capable.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” you said genuinely, a hand moving upward so you could run a thumb over his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he crashed his lips onto yours. Your hand found it’s way to the back of his head, holding him closer. You whimpered into the kiss, desperation overtaking your body. You couldn’t help it, the scent of the potion was still filling the room, and you were consumed in Regulus.

“I want you,” you said in between kisses, eager to finally get what you wanted.

Regulus didn’t break the kiss or loosen his grip on your waist, but instead inched you closer and closer to the bed. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you jumped up, attempting to land on the mattress, but Regulus caught you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He leaned over you, your back touching the mattress as you kept your legs around Regulus. He remained standing, the small of your back at the edge of the side of the bed.

Regulus finally broke the kiss, running his hands all over your body and inspecting every single inch of you. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Sirius will realize what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Your heightened emotions won, and the more you tried to stay quiet, the more hysterical your laugh became.

Regulus slapped your thigh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Regulus demanded, kissing you to distract you from the hysterics in your brain. You melted back into him, forgetting why you were even laughing in the first place.

You were still having too much fun to let him win so easy, and you liked watching him work for it. “Make me.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “What did you just say?”

A giggle threatened to leave your lips. “I said make me.”

A hand suddenly squeezed around your throat, not completely cutting off your breath, but stopping your giggling.

Regulus flashed you a wicked smile. “That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked out.

Regulus moved a hand in between your bodies, cupping your heat from on top of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, desperate for any sort of friction.

Regulus tucked his fingers into the band of your underwear, collecting your wetness with his middle finger as he traced it in between your folds. A sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and Regulus watched your face intently.

You thought he was going to continue on like this, slowly working you up until you were ready for him, but Regulus had other ideas. Without warning, he shoved two long fingers inside of you, his palm resting on your clit and circling, as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your body responded, back arching off the bed, a hand still around your throat. You squirmed a bit, unable to stay still from the sensation.

Regulus watched your chest rise and fall as your back arched and fell, his cock hardening as he watched what he did to you.

He curled his fingers, hitting that gummy sweet spot within you, causing your walls to convulse around his fingers. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he cooed, “come for me.”

His words undid you, the coil of tension within you breaking as you came on his fingers, whines and whimpers constantly filling the room as you calmed down from your high. He pulled his fingers out of you, never breaking eye contact as he sucked your juices off of them.

Once his fingers were licked clean, he unwrapped your legs from his waist, removing his hand from your throat.

“Stay,” he commanded as he untied his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down enough to free his hard and swollen cock.

You let out an audible gasp at the size.

“What? Too much for you?”

“How-“ you didn’t even know what to say, “how is that gonna fit in me?”

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty girl.”

Regulus held his palm in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You did as he said, and he used your spit to wet his cock, lining up his tip with your entrance.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, Reg,” you replied.

Regulus almost showed you mercy when he heard the nickname, it just sounded so pretty coming from you, but he still didn’t. “Beg for it.”

You nodded your head no in protest.

A hand grabbed your face, pushing your lips out and positioning your head so that you had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Beg. For. It.”

“P-please, Regulus I n-“

Regulus slapped your cheek, hard. You gasped at the pain, almost stunned that he did such a thing.

“Use that pretty little nickname you called me.”

“Please, Reg, I need it, p-please-“

Regulus shoved his length into you, a moan of his name leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Regulus growled, setting a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. He tugged at the bottom of your dress. “Off.”

You did your best to pull your dress off without interrupting his pace, struggling for a minute but eventually succeeding. Regulus leaned in and bit at your bra strap, snapping it back onto your body. He kisses the top of your breasts, shoving your nipples out of the cups, his tongue immediately sucking on one of them.

“Fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on your breasts and his cock splitting you open, and the scent of the potion still filled your nose, almost feeling like too much.

“Louder,” he demanded, serious when he said he would make you scream so loud that Sirius could hear you.

“Fuck, Reg!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, his pace quickening as you did so.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He sucked a sweet spot on your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him even more access.

He was slamming into you, the bed squeaking as your body rocked back and forth. Your legs were weak as they fell off the side of the bed, but Regulus didn’t want the position to change. He grabbed both of your legs, positioning them over his shoulders and fucking into you even deeper.

You squeaked and whined, not even capable of any genuine moans anymore.

“You gonna come again, huh? All over my cock?” Regulus gasped out.

“Mhm.”

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Y- yes!” you squealed, your high hitting you again as you squeezed his cock, a groan leaving Regulus’s mouth as he fucked you while you came, pace never faltering as you attempted to come down from your high.

Regulus was still chasing his own, his lips enveloping yours in a heated kiss as he snapped his hips as fast as he could until he came inside of you, erratic breaths and sighs spilling into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through his hair that was sweat slicked and falling in front of his face.

“God, I needed that,” you said, attempting to catch your breath as Regulus laid down next to you.

Regulus didn’t respond, he just stared at the ceiling, calming himself down.

“Reg?” you asked.

“Mhm?”

“You didn’t bring me here just to fuck me and piss your brother off, right?” you asked.

Regulus turned to you. “Do you think that low of me?”

“No. I’m just curious,” you explained.

“No, I didn’t bring you here to piss my brother off,” he answered, “it’s just a massive, massive plus.” He rolled over the placed a kiss on your lips.

[princesssmars]

sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: Caro's nervous

It wasn't that Caro hadn't met you before. Before you started school, you would often be at practice with Marta but it's not like you were ever properly introduced. You knew each other in passing.

To you, Caro was someone on your Mama's football team, a co-worker. To Caro, you were her girlfriend's little girl.

You kept to yourself most of the time and Caro had been seeing less and less of you since you started school so it was a little strange to see Marta running late for practice and stepping out of her car with you on her hip.

"I heard the school got broken into last night," Patri gossips to Pina," I overheard Ale on the phone with Marta earlier. They decided to just shut down for the week until it was all sorted."

"Who breaks into a school?" Pina scoffs," I doubt there's anything valuable there."

Caro tunes out the rest of their conversation, wiping her hands on her shirt to get rid of the sudden bout of sweat that lingers.

Today was the day that you were meant to be meeting her properly. Marta and she had talked about it and decided it was time. Caro had a plan, gifts ready to give you but they were all at home, waiting to be picked up for dinner tonight.

She hadn't expected this at all.

Marta looks frazzled and stressed as she sets you up on the side of the pitch with your arts and crafts.

"Conejita," Caro hears her say," Will you be okay here?"

You nod but you're pouting so Caro doesn't quite know if you're being truthful. "There's no daisies," You say softly as you stare at the pristine grass.

"I'm sorry. It's not like the field at school but here, you have some flower charms. Why don't you make us all some bracelets?"

"Okay, Mami."

"Good girl." Marta presses a kiss to your temple. "I'll be over there if you need me."

"I heard about her school," Caro says as she falls in step with her girlfriend," It got broken into?"

"We didn't even get the email until I had already pulled up to drop her off. I'm sorry that the plan has been pushed up earlier."

"It's fine." It's a complete lie because Caro is quaking inside. She had a plan and now the plan is worthless.

You sit on the edge of the field the entire time, a morose look on your face when you have to substitute real flowers for flower charms. You don't seem very happy at all, still in your school uniform as your clumsy little hands thread some string through your beads and charms.

This is the most nervous Caro's ever been and she's played in Champion's League finals. The plan is ruined and all Caro can do is practice smiling like she did last night in the mirror.

"What's wrong with you?" Mapi, ever blunt, asks," You look like you're constipated."

Caro's failure of a smile drops and she busies herself with drinking.

"Nothing," She says," Nothing at all."

Mapi shrugs, dumping her empty bottle onto the floor before she beams at something over Caro's shoulder.

"Hola," She says," How many of those are you collecting? You will have no room on your arms soon."

Ingrid appears, beaming as she teasingly shakes the multitude of bracelets that adorn her wrists.

"You know I can't say no to her. She's too sweet. She was very upset there were no real flowers she could use."

It's clear to Caro who they were talking about and she spares a glance back to where you're sitting. Your pile of bracelets have dwindled, almost all of them now on Ingrid's arms while you're handing the last one over to Marta.

The rest of practice somehow crawls by slowly but also races by quickly. All too soon (and not soon enough) Caro is standing by Marta's side with that stupid failure of a smile on her face.

You're looking up at her nervously, shifting your feet around as you stare.

"Hola," Caro manages to get out, trying to widen her smile but all it seems to do is unnerve you further.

"Conejita," Marta says," Do you remember I told you you we were going to meet someone special later?"

You nod, still warily eyeing Caro.

"Well, this is Caro."

Your voice is absolutely tiny and soft. "I know Caro. She's on your team."

Caro tries smiling again, showing her teeth but you take a little step back.

"Caro is my girlfriend," Marta explains," That's why she's special."

Caro tries to put you at ease. She tries to look welcoming but you just look more and more distressed the longer she looks at you, feet shuffling you back until you've hit the wall.

"I...Er..." Your eyes dart around wildly like you've suddenly been caught in a trap and are desperately looking for an escape. You can see no other options so you crumble to the floor and burst into tears.

Caro flinches, tearing her hand from Marta's and she hurries to put distance towards.

"Caro-" Marta calls but she shakes her head.

"It's fine," She says even though none of this is fine at all and all Caro can feel is her heart shredding itself in her chest," Maybe it was too soon for her. It's fine."

"Caro, just give me a second. I'm sure-"

"We can try again later," Caro says," Go. Be with her."

Caro doesn't cry. She's never really been a big crier but breaking down in the safety of the locker room is all she can seem to do, sitting in her cubby and sobbing into her hands.

She didn't even check if anybody was still in there before the sobs racked her body.

"Caro?"

There's not many people that Caro doesn't want to see. She has no ill will towards anyone but there's something about Ingrid that is just no help in this situation.

Not Ingrid with her perfect smile and her wrists adorned with bracelets from you.

"Go away."

"Caro, seriously, what's wrong? Is it about..." Ingrid trails off, clearly not wanting to pry further as Caro sobs without restraint.

Caro doesn't speak but it's enough to tell Ingrid what she needs to know. It's uncanny just how easily she can tell what Caro's thinking.

"It's a shock," Ingrid says," And it's been a tough day. Her routine is all messed. She probably didn't even mean whatever she did. It's been a tough day and I'm sure that it's all just catching up to her now."

"She was scared," Caro finally gets out," I scared her."

"Caro-"

"I had a plan, you know. Marta told me she likes flowers. I was going to pick some up on my way over tonight. I was going to help her with her bracelets. I...I think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Ingrid assures her," It's just been a long day. You can try again later."

"I don't want to try again later. I wanted to make a good impression today."

Ingrid sighs. "Caro, she's a little kid. She's going to have bad moods. You must have just caught one today."

Caro stands up, halfway to pulling her hair. "First impressions are everything!" She laments," I want her to like me! I want to stay in her and Marta's life! Ingrid, I really wanted her to like me."

"She will."

"I want her to like me today."

"She likes flowers," Ingrid says," And she likes making bracelets. If you really want to try again today then help her do both."

Ingrid's words are at the forefront of Caro's mind as she knocks on Marta's door that evening. She'd texted ahead to let her girlfriend know she wanted to try again but she still felt the steady thrum of nervousness as she waited for Marta to swing the door open.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Marta says," It was a long day earlier. You don't have to push yourself. You don't have to force yourself-"

"I want to," Caro insists," I...I brought her something?"

"You didn't have to buy her anything."

Caro laughs awkwardly. "I didn't."

Marta gives her an intrigued look before smiling. "Conejita? Caro is here to see you."

You're sitting in the lounge, cross-legged on Marta's shaggy rug and gently working on threading more beads on some string. You turn your head to look at your Mami and her girlfriend, a little furrow in your brow.

Your voice is a tad more confident than earlier but you still look a little nervous.

Caro feels the same, practically thrusting the bag in your face. It's just a simple plastic one that her groceries had been delivered in last week.

Briefly, she wonders if she should have used a different bag.

"You were sad about daisies earlier," Caro blurts out," I got you daisies."

She'd spent nearly two hours in total going to the parks in her area, picking daisies from the glass to put in the bag.

You peer into the bag, just to check and a smile splits your face and Caro can finally breath again.

"I know you like making bracelets too so I though you could use them to make daisychains."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Would you let Caro teach you, conejita?" Your Mami asks," I'm sure she'd be very happy to."

Shyly, you reach out for Caro, wrapping your whole hand around one of her fingers.

"Will you teach me please, Caro?"

Caro smiles at you. Not that practiced smile in the mirror. A proper smile.

"I'd love too."

[valleydewstardrops]

🌻 Yellow Dress | SDV Sebastian

Sebastian hadn't given two fucks about the pouring rain when he'd kicked his bike into gear and taken off down the dirt road toward the farmhouse, nor had his brain been functioning enough to think of putting on his biker jacket, or a helmet, or even a fucking hoodie at the very least.

No, all he'd been thinking about was the fucking sun dress the farmer had been wearing earlier that day; the yellow one, thin as gauze, with nothing but delicate daisy-shaped buttons holding it closed...

Pairing: SDV Sebastian x f!farmer

Genre: explicit smut 18+ MDNI

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Is this really my first offering to the SDV fandom? Yes, yes it is, but apparently I'm a 🔥 horny little gremlin 🔥 with subby!sebby brain rot. At any rate, it's a nice excuse to practise writing smut lol. PLEASE BE NICE THO, I'M VERY NERVOUS. 🙈

Warnings/tags: Submissive!Sebastian, messy cunnilingus & fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, name calling/baby talk, saliva, cum play, breeding kink, face riding, semi-public sexual acts.

Sebastian hadn't given two fucks about the pouring rain when he'd kicked his bike into gear and taken off down the dirt road toward the farmhouse, nor had his brain been functioning enough to think of putting on his biker jacket, or a helmet, or even a fucking hoodie at the very least.

No, all he'd been thinking about was the fucking sun dress the farmer had been wearing earlier that day; the yellow one, thin as gauze, with nothing but delicate daisy-shaped buttons holding it closed and a neckline that almost let her nipples slip out every time she bent down.

That dress hadn't been an accident, he was convinced of it; no, that fucking dress was a symbol of the tension that'd been smouldering between them for four long, agonising months now. She'd worn it that morning to torture him, to push him over the edge as he'd helped her collect eggs from the chicken coup, and she was still wearing it now when he found her waiting for him on her front porch, all yellow and radiant like the fucking sun goddess she was. He hadn't told her he was coming, spurred into uncharacteristic impulsivity by his cock, not his brain, but she'd evidently been coaxed outside by the roar of his bike over the rain, waiting all expectantly with that dress clinging to her tight little body in all the right places. 

Or maybe all the wrong ones judging by how badly it made his cock ache. 

It wasn't fair that she was still wearing it at ten-thirty at night during a downpour. It wasn't fucking fair that the sight of it shattered what was left of his tenuous self-control as he dripped water from his hair down to his boots. 

Sebastian's eyes raked over the length of her, wondering what it would be like to pin her against her front door with his hips and grind the length of his cock through her warm little slit, just to feel her swollen lips drag along the underside of his shaft. Or how it would feel to hook one of her legs around his waist and spread her open to make her panties all wet with his rain-soaked jeans and his gushy tip. 

Would those puffy little nipples harden and show through her thin dress if he groped her tits with his wet hands? What if he used his mouth on them? Sucked them right through the fabric, drooling on her like a fucking dog until the material went transparent under his needy tongue?

What if he fucked the farmer girl right there on her front porch for anyone to see? What if he just took her right where she stood, sank deep into that slutty little cunt and made her squirt yummy juice all over his fat, wet cock?

What if he just fucking ruined her on her own farm?

The thought made Sebastian dizzy with lust, and if he weren't already soaked to the skin by the rain, all his drooly precum would've been enough to soak his boxers through. His cock throbbed, and he couldn't help but paw at it right there in front of her like some depraved fucking pervert, his mouth watering as he tracked the rapid rise and fall of those perky tits. Was it fear that caused goosebumps to erupt over her pretty skin, or did she like the way he practically eye-fucked her where she stood, drooling over the curves of her pretty little body and salivating over the places where her dress clung to her skin?

Fuck, he could have that dress off her in two seconds flat. And then what? She wore no bra, as usual, meaning her cherry nipples would be right there for the taking, just begging to be sucked — and then who's to say she was wearing panties, either? Her little peachy cunt was probably dripping sweet girl-juice from its needy hole, ready to be devoured like a fucking dessert, to be slurped up and licked clean.

His boots squelched as he took a step closer, soaked to the skin from his ride through the rain and shivering with need. Could she see the barely contained desire in his eyes, the desperation on his face? Did she have any idea the inferno in his tummy was making his cock hurt so bad he couldn't keep his naughty hand off it no matter how hard he tried? 

Sebastian was sick of fucking his fist over her, sick of grinding his weepy cock into his pillow imagining it was her body, sick to fucking death of edging himself stupid to thoughts of her squirty yummy cunt until he was too dumb and fuck-drunk to keep his plea's and moans quiet in the basement. He wanted her to fuck him to overstimulation, to milk him dry like one of her fucking cows until he was just a big dumb boy with no thoughts left in his head. And judging by the way her eyes were glued to the shape of his straining cock in his wet pants, she needed it, too. 

Watching him dry hump his own hand, she leaned back against her front door, planted her legs apart and slowly lifted the front of her dress to reveal the cutest, sweetest little pussy Sebastian ever seen in his life. 

Shit —

Fuck —

His knees buckled, and he pawed more urgently at his leaky cock with a moan that could be heard over the pouring rain.

He'd been right about her wearing no panties. Had she been this bare earlier in the chicken coup? Had he been this close to her without even knowing it? 

Sweet girl. Poor, sweet fucking girl. She had told him once that all she wanted was a peaceful life on the farm, raising chickens and harvesting crops, and now here she was flashing him her naughty girl cunt, biting her lip like she was almost shy about how fucking slick her thighs were. 

It was all too much for Sebastian. He dove forward, grabbing her hips and yanking them forward as he stumbled to his knees before her, his tongue already lolling out of his mouth in search of the yummy treatie he so deserved for being such a good, patient boy. And she responded so beautifully, hooking one leg over his shoulder and shoving his face into the sloppy, scrummy mess that greeted him. 

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Sebastian moaned and lapped, moaned and lapped, playing with the sweet syrup that gathered between her trembling thighs, scooping it into his mouth like it was fucking sugar glaze, letting it trickle down his throat like ice cream on a hot day; the sweetest treat he'd ever be allowed to indulge in.

'S'fucking good,' he babbled into her hole as she used his nose to rub her slippery clit against. 'Tastes like sugar...sweet li'l cunt, s'cute...' His tongue so sloppy he could barely speak, fucking her slit with broad, wet strokes until spit and slick dribbled down his chin.

Such a messy boy. 

That's what she called him as she used his face like a fucking sex toy, her voice all breathy and sweet despite how squishy she was. 

Naughty messy boy. 

Oh, and he was; such a naughty, messy boy, pawing at his cock while he whined for mommy to feed him because he was so hungry and hadn't been such a good boy waiting this long to fuck her? Behaving so well, helping out around the farm, keeping his hands to himself when all he wanted was to stick his cock in her happy spot and have her breed him like the dumb fucking animal he was? 

Grabbing a tight fistful of his hair, she threw her pretty head back and fucked herself on his face with long, languid strokes, leaving a trail of slick over his features like she was marking him as hers. 

So fucking hot —

So fucking hot that it made Sebastian's cock all twitchy in his pants, fat beads of precum leaking out to make a sticky mess against his abdomen. He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming untouched on his knees, his hips bucking uselessly upwards while his mouth made creamy yummies with her cunt. 

He hadn't even noticed he'd pulled his cock out until she was yanking him back by the hair, peeling his dumb puppy licks off her core with difficulty. He stuck out his tongue as far as it would go, whining and straining to reach her while his hand worked his thick, sticky shaft, but she braced her knee against his shoulder to keep him back.

'Uh uh,' she tutted, her eyes flicking down to his exposed cock. Sebastian stopped touching himself immediately, strings of saliva dripping from his tongue as he panted up at her, already so obedient, so trainable. It should have been embarrassing how quickly he fell apart, how he went from grown man with a motorcycle to stupid pliant boy at the mere sight of her little blushy pussy, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel shame for how badly he wanted her; not when having her felt this good.

There were rumours in town that the new farmer girl was a witch. Ridiculous, of course, but anything new that managed to disrupt the sleepy, brain-dead routine of Pelican Town was regarded with wary suspicion until proven otherwise — but then again, maybe she was a witch. After all, Sebastian had never found himself whimpering on his knees for a girl before. Sure, he'd been with plenty: the odd tourist girl passing through who found his interminable apathy a turn-on and not a repellent; city girls who didn't know he still lived in his mom's basement; even he and Abigail fucked when the mood struck them, which was far more often on his part than it was with hers. 

But this? Her? Never in his life had he been so fucking infatuated with anything than he was with the girl in the yellow dress. If she was a witch, he'd happily offer himself up to her sacrificial seance circle if it meant having his little puppy tum rubbed for being such a good boy. 

With nothing to do with his hands now that he'd been forbidden to touch himself, his twitchy fingers reached up to play with her girl parts instead, so swollen and gushy for him that he actually drooled spit down his front, his tongue still hanging out. 

Too eager to hear more of the naughty sounds she made, he offered no warning before he slid two long fingers inside her, watching with cross eyes as her little hole swallowed them whole, practically sucking him inside her until he was knuckles deep in her honey cunt. And when he crooked his fingers to hit that special spot inside her, her little needy whine was so high-pitched that her vocal cords cracked and her knees gave out from under her. And fuck if that didn't make Sebastian feel like the goodest boy ever, his cock leaking like a fucking tap and his hips bucking up into nothing as he fucked his fingers into her again and again, lapping at her little bubblegum nub with his relentless tongue while dribbles of spit oozed down his chin.

God, fuck, how many times had he imagined this? Being between her legs, making her feel so good she'd never want another dummy boy but him. But even his wildest fantasies felt flat and wooden in the face of the real thing; the taste of her, the delicious flutter of her core around his fingers, the way she pulled his hair and rode his face like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth — and all because of him. 

Feeling pride swell in his chest, he murmured sweet praises about how cute her little cunty was and how yummy scrummy her juices were leaking down his fingers, his voice all high-pitched and breathy like a fucking girl. And when she finally did cummies over his face, squirting fresh milky cream from her twitchy hole, Sebastian's neglected cock jerked up violently and he came with her, soiling himself with thick, heavy ropes of boy-milk as if his pleasure was intrinsically linked to hers.

Like magic — like a witches curse, she’d fucked him dumb and docile without ever laying a finger on him. And still, even as he shivered on his knees like he might be sick, Sebastian licked and licked, and pleaded and pleaded, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he realised that his cock was still hard and ouchies even as the last drops of cum dribbled out. 

His knees shook when she gently pulled him up by his shoulders, his cock hanging low and heavy between them, and when she trailed a finger through the sticky mess he'd made on his tummy, he whined low and needy in his throat.

‘Aw, all that wasted milk,’ she said, sighing longingly as she played with his cum. ‘Silly boy, now I'm going to have to milk you all over again.’

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson masterlist

below you will find a collection of my eddie munson works.

this will be updated as things are posted!

all works are intended for audiences 18 and up.

minors do not interact please!

opposites attract masterlist • scotty doesn’t know masterlist

• it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist •

the eras of us masterlist • let’s go, don’t let wait masterlist

works:

✧ whiplash - eddie x fem reader

a cute metalhead helps pull you out of a mosh pit at a metallica concert.

✧ i called her on the phone… - ghostface eddie x fem reader

you get a phone call from a masked man and things get a little heated between you.

✧ i get off - perv eddie x perv fem reader

your catch your neighbor watching you masturbate, but you like it a little too much.

✧ sympathy for the devil - demon kas x human eddie x fem hunter

a supernatural au, you finally come face to face with the demon you’ve been hunting for months. but his new vessel is a little too close for comfort.

✧ pushing up daisies - kas eddie x fem reader

visiting eddie’s vandalized grave, you get more than you initially bargained for.

✧ what are friends for? - best friend eddie x fem reader

movie night with you best friend + raging horny period hormones. what could go wrong?

✧ wild horses - eddie x fem reader

your boyfriend helps you get over your fear of rollercoasters… in a special way.

✧ as long as you’re mine - eddie x fem reader

you make the last moments you might spend with eddie count.

✧ borrow the moonlight - eddie x fem reader

a direct follow up to as long as you’re mine…

✧ she fuckin’ hates me - enemy eddie x fem reader

who doesn’t love a little hate fuck on your crushes bed… with his best friend?

✧ run, alice, run - mad hatter eddie x fem reader

you have more tricks than treats up your sleeve for your boyfriend…

© littlexdeaths all rights reserved!

[devoutekuna]

Making flowers crowns

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He's caught off guard as he rests on the tree, back on the hard bark as he wat ched his daughter, slowly drifting off to wake up to a few flowers dripping into his eyesight, with his daughter using his arm as a stool. "You have a really big head daddy" trying to push the crown down onto his neck only for it to get stuck around his forehead. Accidentally ripping the crown with how much force she used to get in on his head. "Oh no!" Falling onto the floor as she watched her creation fail. "Go annoy your mother" as she went to go find some more flowers to make one for you, resulting in him having to clean up by trying to fix the flower crown, smirking at her.

Nanami-

"Help daddy" walking over to his daughter who was sat underneath a tree trying to put flowers on a stray cat she found. "Leave it sweetheart" freeing the poor cat from her grasp as she watched it run away. "I need help" sitting down behind her as he put her on his lap, taking control of her hands as he helped her pick out a few daisies to make a crown. "I want to make it for mr cat" pointing over to the tiger stripped cat in the distance. "You've already named him?" Nodding in response as he worked his magic on the daisies. "Yes, and he will be the prince in my castle, that's why he needs the crown!" Ushering him to hurry up.

"Ta-da!" Throwing the crown up in the air, only to realise the stray cat wasn't there anymore. "Oh no, Mr cat left" looking up the tree for any sign of him.

Gojo-

"Awh, is this for me?" Noticing at how his son kept on staring at him as he picked out flowers only to make them into a crown shape, sat on the grass as he watched his offspring run around to find blue and white flowers. "No!" Resulting in a pout from your husband. "But it's blue and white, and those are my colours" oblivious to the fact that his son has white hair and blue eyes too. "It me" pointing to himself as walked off behind him only to return to put the flowers on his head. Eyes lighting up as he realized that, his son already running off to collect a big white tulip only for it to end up in Satoru's mouth. "Your too loud daddy" slapping his cheek.

Geto-

"Look what I made for you daddy" holding up the crown made out of daisies, a few flowers sticking out of her purple backpack. Crouching down so that he could place it on his head, "thank you baby" patting her head as he felt her rearrange it. "And I made one for mummy" grabbing another one out of her bag. "It's really pretty, I'm sure she'll love it" picking her up as she cradled onto his shoulder.

Toji-

"Daddy look!" Pushing the wheelbarrow full of flowers. "I need you to make me 15 crowns!" Dropping all the flowers next to him, surely she hadn't just picked them out of the neighbours' garden. "One for me" pointing to herself then him. "One for you, that worm, mummy, Mr snuggles, Mrs rabbit.." and so on, in summary, she wanted you to make all her soft toys a flower crown. "You want to help?" Flashing a smile so she atleast got the memo. "Nope!" Crossing her arms over her chest as she smiled proudly. "Come on, it would be quicker" shaking her head once again. "I need to help mummy!" Running off into the house.

[diejager]

Hello hellooooooo

I hope you are doing great !!

(I was waiting patiently for your requests to be open again lmao)

So, my brain was just thinking of something for monster!141 and I just need to share it somewhere 😵‍💫

As you may know, penguins' love language is giving pebbles to their loved ones

Penguin hybrid!Hunter just giving monster!141 pebbles and little rocks to show them that they love them 🥹

Alright, I'll go back to my knitting now BYE

*gets out by the window with a parachute*

Pebbles Cw: weird courting, tell me if I missed any.

You didn’t have any noticeable differences to a human, having the appearance of any human with a some quirky and funny behavioural traits that all of them enjoyed. You had your moments of oddity, but you didn’t seem that far from a human, having no tail, ear or horns, your skin as smooth and soft as any. They dropped their suspicions of you being a hybrid, a monster or even an inter dimensional creature of some unknown source.

And somehow, they find small trinkets - small, round pebbles picked out of a bunch to be perfectly rounded, smooth edges and glistening under the light, and sticks, long and robust, but small enough to sneak into the base without being caught - placed in the areas they often found themselves frequenting.

Price would find a cluster of pebbles on his desk, arranged neatly in a ring, a curious little thing that he shrugged off, putting them away for the time he’d be able to catch the culprit red handed in the act. Price chucked it up to being Soap and Gaz pulling a prank on him, an unsuspecting and benign trick for a little laugh between them, he didn’t bother with it too much.

Ghost found his small collection of sticks and rock on the books he liked to read, placed near the corner of his desk in his office, the arrangement was neither crude nor clean, it was a chaotic abstraction that he didn’t understand.He didn’t know what to make of it, no one would be brave enough - stupid enough - to pull something like this on him and on his stuff without knowing the risks they put themselves in.

Soap and Gaz had a few placed that belonged to them alone, like their rooms or their locker in the armoury, small areas that everyone knew was theirs. Gaz was the first of the two to find flowers and pebbles in the top compartment of his locker, picked with utmost care to keep the petal from bending. Soap found his collection of sticks and flowers stitched in a pretty crown placed around the collar of his vest, a little present full of romance and adoration. Both of them couldn’t help but find this weird act endearing.

Until Price saw you rush out of his office, a sweet, love-filled smile plastered on your face as if you’d been given the miracle of your life. If he pushed the thought farther, he could almost see a little tail wagging behind you, oh so overzealous and overjoyed with something you did. Peaked by it, he looked into his room and caught the bright petals of a daisy gently placed in the middle of a wreath of stick. He looked at it with a renewed aww and curiosity, feeling your affection roll of your intricate design, made and catered to him as if you’d made each and every single one of his boys a little courting gift-

It was an instinctual courting behaviour seen in monsters and hybrids alike. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to question himself and your file, he’d been sure that you were human through and through, holding not a single ounce of monster blood in your veins, you’d done tests. Tests, he had to remind himself that these tests were - despite being physical and DNA tests - noted down if the recipient had any traits deemed worthwhile, something useful in the minds of a battle or in a dogfight.

That would give reason to some missing holes in your file, the little things that made you so charmingly you in every aspect was missing from your papers, reserved for people who came to know you. It warmed his heart, to see you so comfortable with them that you ended up forging such strong, emotional connections that you started giving them gifts. He’d have to take it up with the other boys, tell them what he just found out: your little, courting gifts, your hybrid roots that they could explore and your lovable smile when you’d successfully given your gift, and see where they would go from there.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @mixplara @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @stay-088 @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[l4ndon0rris]

A Love for the Ages CL16

A collection of short stories of yours and Charles unique love story through the ages (each short flashback in time will begin with the same intro you see below)

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader // sibling!Pierre a/n: the second installment! tysm for the support <3 i dont really write short stories but i'm enjoying this style for the series - if you want to be added to the taglist lmk

masterlist

All eyes were on you, the white wedding gown that clung perfectly to your body, your impeccably crafted hair paired with flawless glowing makeup. There was no denying you looked ethereal standing at the altar gazing into his familiar eyes: those eyes that had comforted you, cried with you, looked at you with desire, had burned with anger and softened with apologies. The eyes that have witnessed dark days and brighter ones now bore into your own; you saw a flash of anticipation in them waiting for you to mutter the two words joining you together forever. Those eyes transported you back through everything that led you here, to this altar, holding his hands, about to embark on forever.

9 and a half years old

The half was important as you neared double digits. Pierre kept calling you a baby just because he was two years older and knew how to push your buttons to make you go high-pitched enough to get your mother to strictly express, “Pierre stop winding her up. Darling, just ignore him, if you let him wind you up he’ll do it more.”

“Even Charles is ten now, aren’t you Charles? It’s good when you’re not a baby anymore, isn’t it?” Pierre mocked involving Charles in your sibling dispute.

Not only had you been dragged along to one of Pierre’s dumb race weekends but he had done nothing but annoy you the entire time, showing off in front of all of his racing friends who all thought they were cool.

You could just about see Charles’ eyes from under his long sweeping fringe, they were looking at you with a kindness Pierre’s did not hold. You turned away from the pair of them with a muffled scream for dramatic effect, missing your mothers exasperated sigh and rolling of her eyes. Pierre thought he was the coolest at the racetrack but to you he was your idiot big brother who ruined your weekends with his boring driving in circles.

You dramatically yet gracefully plonked yourself on a patch of damp grass pulling it from the earth and tossing it aside carelessly, silently imagining it being Pierre’s hair pulling from his head.

“You know, being ten doesn’t feel any different,” Charles sat down next to you, unearthing the grass with you. You weren’t mad at Charles but you were stubborn and childishly refused to speak to him because he was Pierre’s friend. “It’s a bit rubbish because Pierre keeps saying he’s nearly a teenager - which is really big, isn’t it? So we don't really ever catch up to him.”

You frowned slightly listening to Charles; Pierre had wound you up so much about not being ten you had hoped that he’d stop but now you knew he’d always be annoying just because he’s the oldest. First the worst, second the best, you made a mental note to yell that at Pierre the next time you saw him.

You still hadn't looked at Charles, continuing to focus on ripping the grass beneath you, “you should beat him in the race. Even if he’s bigger, you’re still faster than him.” You tentatively looked up to see Charles' reaction and noticed Charles smile at the compliment. “If you win I can tell him to shut up because he’s slow,” you smiled back enjoying the the idea of being able to humiliate your older brother.

“If I win then I’ll tell him to shut up with you,” you both giggled with a childlike innocence. Charles plucked a daisy from the grass twirling it in his fingers and held it out for you to take. “You should make a daisy chain while we’re racing,” he stood up dusting his hands off from the mud.  “Maybe when you turn ten your mum won’t make you come here anymore ‘cause you’ll be bigger then,” he looked down at you with a promise in his eyes which gave you hope that would be true.

“I’ll make you a daisy chain crown for when you win,” you jumped up in front of him, eyes squinting and tongue poking out as you concentrated on analysing his head to determine how many daisy's you would need to make one big enough to sit atop his head of hair.

Charles won that race and proudly wore your daisy chain crown even if it was slightly smaller than you had hoped. You had told Pierre he was stupid and slow and got a warning from your mother for having done so. A few months later you turned ten and it turned out Charles’ prediction was incorrect; you were dragged along to many races for years to come but it turned out you didn’t mind them so much when Charles was there.

taglist: @rana030 @sltwins @janeh22 @likehonestlysametho

[breeyn]

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

[jobean12-blog]

random hoeing:

Javi P. holding your gaze as he slowly licks the salt off his hand before taking a shot of tequila

Troublemaker

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 633

Summary: After spending one amazing night together you and Javi find yourselves grabbing some quick after work dinner at the same local spot and since you're not one to dance around what you want, you make it very clear you want him.

Author's Note: EVA! eeeeeeee I have been thinking about this image since you sent this into my asks and I LOVE IT! Thank you so much for it! He is so fucking sexy I can't stand it. Just a little drabble to hone in my horniness haha, have the best day! Love and hugs friend! Thanky you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: they clearly have feelings for each other but right now it's just about the fucking haha, shower sex, fingering, a quickie bc Javi's too hot to resist

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Long fingers slip around the sweaty glass, but your eyes quickly dart back up to his face when you see him lift his other hand, the back of it coated in salt, to his lips.

His dark eyes never leave yours as his tongue slowly slides out of his mouth and over his skin, licking up every grain of salt before he raises the shot glass. He downs it easily, the clear liquid burning down his throat while the muscles contract and relax and the long line of his neck tempts you.

“You make me insane,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, as you take a sip of your drink.

“I think you don’t like how much you like me,” Javi answers back, unable to stop his smile.

You smile back at him. “I need a shower before I head out with the girls tonight…”

His eyes widen slightly and his brows lift.

He holds the door open for you and you step inside, familiar with the layout of his place and head straight for the bathroom.

You strip on the way, then climb into the shower, turning on the water and watching through the glass as he undresses.

He follows you, his eyes closing when you drag your teeth along his jaw. You grab for the soap and lather some in your hands, moving them to his chest and with your eyes on his face, reaching lower, sliding a hand down his cock.

You work your hand over him, slowly squeezing, and then stretching up to kiss his neck. He chases your lips, parting them with his tongue and deepening the kiss, and groaning into your mouth.

His fingers make tiny circles over your nipples, and he presses you into the tile before reaching down between your legs to find you silken and wet.

You pull back from his mouth, letting your head fall back against the wall, eyes closed and mouth soft and open.

Your bodies slide together, and he finds your mouth again, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck.

“I’m so close Javi,” you mewl.

His fingers stroke and press but you still his wrist just as your legs begin to shake. “I want to come with you inside me.”

He nods, unable to reply aloud because he’s wound so tight. He rubs your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, catching his breath.

You reach lower, taking him in your hand, and at his sharp hiss, your eyes turn up to his face, taking stock of every detail of his reaction.

The water runs down his face, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his thick lashes clumped together. It collects above his top lip, and you suck it off, moaning when he lifts your thighs, pulling your legs up and around his waist and then sliding in slowly, inch by inch.

Your fingers move up his neck into his hair and then your lips follow, kissing, biting, and when he pushes in deeper you release these tight, sharp noises straight into his ear.

He knows you’re so close and he pulls back to look at you, your mouth falling open, your pussy clenching tight.

He grips you hard, face now pressed to your neck, fucking you fast and deep. You watch him now, watch him climb, give in, and topple over the edge with a rumbling groan.

With ragged breaths his hands slip along your wet skin and trace your curves. His mouth searches for yours. Everything is soft, drenched in water and he’s still inside you.

You tilt his face in your hands, kissing his jaw and sucking water from his bottom lip, his mustache tickling your soft skin.

“You okay?”

He nods, whispering, “you’re going to wreck me angel.”

[riaki]

— the warmth of a home | satoru gojo x reader jjk0 setting w/ coparent teen megumi

wc: 2.2k cw: petnames, established relationship, ur megs mother figure, reader is referred to as they but u wear perfume not proofread!!

this was just meant to be a weekday blurb like the last but oops it turned into a full fic mb

"i'm home!"

your voice rings out as you step through the threshold of your shared home, a gentle evening breeze ushering you in as you slip your shoes off sore feet and hang your well-worn jacket up, scented flowery perfume and sweet smelling cologne mingling on the thick fabric.

it's cold out; autumn is setting in, the crisp leaves that signal the arrival of fall collecting outside your doorstep as the late weeks of october wave goodbye and usher in the first days of november, followed by a drop in temperature and thin ice that begins to crust over any wet surface.

the small hallway leads into a wide, open living room, with a corner of couches and a worn tv that hasn't screened anything in ages. there's a fuzzy throw blanket hanging over one of the couch arms, knit with patterns of cute little dogs, stuck with tongues lolling happily from their mouths. a potted plant that's clinging on to a thin thread of life you can barely sustain on the days you remember to water it sits on the coffee table, bits of soil speckling the edge of the warm clay pot as the lights overhead cast a soft glow upon the ceramic. there's a pair of black socks strewn across the tabletop- you make a mental note to give their owner a good scolding and maybe a physical touch fast for the night once you find him.

you set your bag down by the door, stepping onto the wooden floor as your feet make soft thumping noises when you cross. two pairs of keen ears pick the sounds up almost instantly, coupled by two, equally loud voices that compete for your attention.

"ah, they're back! hope they brought takeou— ow! megumi, don't yank so hard." satoru's voice comes from the bathroom, a little ways down the hall decorated with polaroids and doodles. it's promptly followed by a curt, "sorry." the words bring a smile to your face; that irritatingly singsong voice you love so much coupled by megumi's aloof and quiet.

you make your way to the door, a warm glow flooding out of the crack before you push it open wide enough to peek your head, catching a glimpse of the scene unfolding on the other side as you stifle a laugh.

satoru is propped on the edge of the bathtub, hunched to make his frame somewhat smaller and the top of his head accessible to megumi as he faces the wall, while the latter fastens a section of loosely-trimmed cream bandages over satoru's eyes, all too tight that it begins to cut into his smooth skin. there's a grimace twisting his soft lips (you know they are from constantly running a thumb over them) pink glistening from moisture under the soft daisy yellow light. megumi's hands are far too tight as they grip the strip of bandage, forcing satoru's tufts of white hair into a disheveled mess.

at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, both of them whip their heads toward the door, megumi all but ditching the task before him as satoru hooks the bandages beneath his chin with one finger, expression softening into that lovesick grin that makes your heart pump faster against your ribcage.

"welcome back." megumi hums, straightening up to brush past you. a silent agreement passes between the two of you— you'll finish tying the bandages for satoru, while he gets some homework done.

"thank you, megs." you laughed, giving him a quick ruffle of his smooth dark hair as he bumps shoulders with you, slipping past and walking into the hallway with a disgruntled mumble at the touch. "go easy on this old man next time. i don't want to deal. with a child for the whole night," you called, stifling a laugh when you see the exaggerated hurt expression that finds its way onto satoru's face almost instantly.

a distant sound of acknowledgement from megumi finds your ears as you turn around to face your very mature and handsome husband, who's still hunched over the edge of the bathtub with his arms folded over his chest and a faux crossed expression on his face. you take a few steps towards him before you sit down on the tub beside him, legs turned out to make use of the space as you turn your head to get a good look. there's a pout on his lips, not giving an ounce of thought towards being subtle in a way that's so very him. his sparkling blue irises peek out from beneath his long lashes, the color of the clouds in the sky that slowly begin to paint pale under the shine of the setting sun.

"hey, satoru. what's got you looking so down?" you chuckled, scooting closer on the cold rim of the tub to reach out. your fingers card through his hair and you almost swoon at the way he leans into your touch, like a cat chasing for chin scratches. you push the mess of hair from his eyes to press a lazy, slow kiss to his forehead, bumping into his side. as soon as your fingers touch the first square inch of hair on his head, his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you close like he's done so many times before.

"you're so mean to me, pretty. did you call me old?" he whines, the corner of his lips downturned as he buried his head in your shoulder for a moment before pulling away to stare down at you imposingly. you only sighed, stroking his hair as you watch his lips curve up in a poorly smothered grin, cocky and smug in a way that he knows makes you want to kiss away until only a little awestruck gape remains in its wake.

"of course not, 'toru. you know i love you too much to curse you with wrinkles." you hummed, taking in the sweet look on his face dusted rosy as he looks at you.

"i should hope so," he grins, and in one swift motion, you find yourself tucked flush to his chest on his lap, one of his hands snaking up your arm to pull you close as he catches your lips with his in a sweet motion he's been anticipating since the last clingy smooch this morning. he tastes like the candy you hid away in the cabinet in an attempt to stop his sweet tooth from plowing through the time before his next dentist appointment, and you add it to your mental list of things to reprimand him for.

for now, though, you let yourself indulge- let your hand trail up his chest and around his neck, feeling his pulse beneath your thumb as you lean into him with a sigh of contentment. he's warm, familiar, and stable in a way that you've only ever found comfort in, and he's fully aware of the effect he has on you when he pulls away, puckered lips pecking your cheeks with unrestrained affection as you laugh and bat him away.

he soaks in the moment for a bit until he speaks again, with a heave and a sigh that makes him seem far too worn out for a 27 year old. "help me out, love." he sighs, motioning toward the loose bandage around his neck that threatens to slip any moment. your hands are already moving when he speaks, taking up the bunch of fabric in your fingers to push his hair back and fasten it around his eyes. you mourn a little over the loss of the sight-- his pretty blue eyes tucked away behind a wall of necessity, hidden away from the world. your shoulders sink a little and you melt into him some as you finish tying the knot, making sure it's securely fasten before you move your hands away.

you're caught mid-motion, though- his hand shoots up to grab your wrist gently, thumb gently prodding at your pulse as he tilts his head into your other hand.

"'toru? what are you doing?" you asked softly, staring down at him from your vantage point in his lap.

"baby," he starts slowly, other hand snaking around your waist to press against the small of your back, warm and steady as he presses you close to him. "do you love me?"

you're surprised. most of the time, he never broaches the area of emotions out of the blue—it's an area of vulnerability he's still not quite ready for; not quite healed enough to approach. and you understand, so you never push him to talk.

"of course i do. that's why i'm here." you reminded him, gaze snagging on the way his teeth catch his lip and chew nervously. a fleeting thought enters your mind, and for a second you almost think he might put up infinity.

it's quiet for a moment, then, and you take the moment to size him up, appraising as the light from the window above filters in, framing his face in some sort of angelic light. he really looks ethereal, you think to yourself.

then, the silence is broken.

"enough to buy me takeout?" he offers sheepishly, all apprehension vanishing as that easy smile creeps over his lips again and he clasps your hands in his, lithe and calloused fingers enveloping yours to dot your wrist and knuckles with little kisses.

you blinked, before rolling your eyes, laughing that sweet laugh he only ever teased to hear from you as you wriggled free from his grasp, sliding off his lap and standing up again before he could trap you in a hug again.

"no, satoru. but i'll make dinner with megumi and save some for when you get back. does that sound good?" you offered, looking down at him expectantly.

he smiles at that, swinging his legs over the tub to stand as well. he's tall, almost comically so— looking quite out of place under the fluorescent lights amidst pastel shampoo bottles. your eyes drift to the sink, where two bristly toothbrushes are tucked in the same cup, and you smile.

"anything made by you is great, sweetheart." he says with a cheeky grin, reveling in the soft flush that stains your face as he walks closer, cupping your face in one hand and leaning down to kiss the side of your head affectionately. he catches a whiff of your perfume, and his smirk only widens. before he can do further, though, someone clears their throat from the other side of the door, and you turn around to catch sight of a head of spiky black hair, an unamused look on his face as megumi eyes the two of you.

"why are you still here?" he sniffs, peering up at satoru with a frown. the latter just chuckles, reaching over to aggressively mess with his hair, leaving it even more disheveled and out of place as an angry protest leaves megumi. satoru skirts just out of reach of an irritated jab, throwing what you think is some sort of charming wink from beneath his white bandages at the two of you.

"seeya, love. hold the fort down while i'm gone." he calls, already halfway to the door. his steps echo in your ear as you just smile, opening the bathroom door and stepping into the hallway as megumi slides up to your side, a sour expression tugging at his lips. "don't let the rascal upset our haven." said rascal makes a face.

"be safe," you said softly, hoping he caught your unspoken wishes in those two words. judging by the way he paused at the door before hurrying back to your side to pepper you with four departing kisses— one on either cheek, the tip of your flushed nose, and on your lips-- he took the caution to heart.

"you're so cute when you worry, love." he chuckled, his laugh like a spring of rejuvenating running water that filled you with life. he took a moment to take you in again— hair slightly messy from the wind whistling outside, the tips of your ears a pleasant red and a look in your eyes he could only describe as adoration.

"don't worry. i'll always come back to you."

and with that, he was gone.

not for long, though. eventually, he'd return home to a lone kitchen light flicked on, spreading warmth onto the table below. he'd come home to the same heart-warming scene he had so many times before— slipping his bandages down his face, taking his jacket off to spread it from one of your shoulders to megumi's— you'd fallen asleep together with the window open, a chilling evening breeze filtering in as the pages of megumi's homework fluttered in the wind, frustrated scribbles smudged against the crinkled paper underneath his elbows as he slept. you were by his side, too— cozy and exhausted, soft little breaths leaving your lips every now and then. times like this brought him a simple joy; the happiness of having a home to come back to, a family with handmade dinner gone cold on the table as it waited for him, a trio who could support one another and provide the love that each person had been missing.

there would never be anything he'd want more than this simplicity.

he ends up dumping megumi on the couch before carrying you bridal style towards your shared bedroom.

extra: u and megumi cook pasta tgt :3

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize!

[fairykazu]

hello! can i have a bouquet with carnations, daisies, and petunias with aventurine? thank you! (yes, they are connected as one fic :))

𓍢ִ໋love blooms with aventurine prompts: walking in the park - carnation, collecting flowers on their way home - daisies and realizing their feelings - petunias notes: modern au, pining & soft aventurine! i did hit a writing block while writing yours so i didn't fulfill your request as you like but i hope you like this event masterlist  𝜗𝜚 hsr masterlist

the sun dipped below the horizon casting an ethereal glow across the sky as if aeon themself had painted the sky with a masterpiece of soft pinks, oranges, and purples. it was a perfect evening for a stroll through the park, well, afterall, it was tradition for you and aventurine. you knew him ever since you were little, growing up side by side, the lives of aventurine and name were forever inexorably intertwined.  

aventurine plucked a peony from a bush from a neighor’s bush on the way to the park. “y’know, i read these represent luck, i mean, i have all the luck i need but you need this for sure.” 

“just because you won six games of monopoly, doesn’t mean-”

as he held the flower to you, you realized something. aventurine laughed, imagining a lightbulb above your head. you pushed him playfully; he stumbled a little from the sidewalk. you gasped, “did you really picked a flower from the oak family’s bush? don’t you know sunday-” 

he quickly interjected, “what he doesn’t know doesn't hurt him. c’mon, you know that pink isn’t his color, it’s better off being on you.” he picked off the excessive leaves on the flower before putting it above your ear. 

“aven, we should run.” he noticed your eyes flickering to the corner of the gated manor. was it worth being here and risky? yes. is he scared? kind of, hoping you don’t call his buff and kept his right hand behind. 

he blew air in your face as you rolled your eyes, “why?” 

“sunday has cameras.”

you shook your head to your right, the direction where the park is. he nodded,  

“... lets go.” 

the two ran from the gated house, he only stopped on the way to the clockmaker’s park, a national park in penacony, to celebrate whatever with whatever. it doesn’t really matter. what matters is that the peony is losing petals and what if you’re losing the luck he gave with it.

“wait, stop.” 

“what? i thought you were scared of sunday’s hounds after us.. err, you.” you replied, but you stopped away. aventurine’s hand brushed against your face, he adjusted the flower, making sure it looked full. 

“didn’t want you losing the petals…”  he murmured as he abruptly turned away from you, grabbing your hand. if you squinted, you could see a hint of pink reaching to the tips of his ears. he’s cute… in a totally platonic way!  

“uh-huh, so what? don’t need a flower when i have you, right?” 

he coughed loudly, his pace getting faster and it was hard to catch up. but you managed, taking longer strides to keep up. his mind raced between a response between “you don’t mean that.”, which exposes his feelings about you or he could play along, pretending everything is fine and he doesn’t think about being yours. aeons, he could only hope he doesn’t look flustered. 

did he even reply? 

“aventurine? we’re at our spot, you okay?” you asked, he could see the concern in your eyes.

“of course, i am. why?” 

“just wondering! do you think the flowers we planted are still there or did the organiziton or whatever pluck them out?” 

“personally, i think they gave up but they probably did. stupid bloodhounds.” 

aventurine clicked his tongue as the both of you tucked your heads under a hedge. it took a while to get to the place, hidden under the bushes of the park. he replied, “personally, i think they gave up but they probably did. stupid bloodhounds.” 

you gently pushed him away, “don’t say that outloud, i think they have spies.” 

he laughed, “c’mon, the only one i’m afraid of is gallagher but other than him, i’m basically fearless.” 

“yeah right.” 

[flyintheworldofbooks]

Sims 4 CC recs

This is my master list with my current cc's

Outfits:

By Aretha - pretty (&) savage collection 💗✨🦋

By aharris00britney - AxA 2020 | 90+ CAS Items | Public Release

By BlueCraving - Sporty Collection

By BlueCraving - Wedding Collection

By Oydis - Smart & Casual 💄 / Also has other packs with hair colors

By Oydis - The Little Black Dress 👠

By RIMINGS - Lazy Sunday / PJs / Also has a lot of good outfits

By Sunberry - Ribbon top long dress & Pearl Heart

By VIKAI X GREENLLAMAS - SOGUE

By Black Lily - Evenings With You Dress

By Caiocc - Lily: A 10 items set

By Caiocc - CxS Love Myself. - The Collection (9 items)

By clumsyalien - «mixtape» cc pack

By clumsyalien - «ambience» cc pack

By Daisy Pixels - 🔔 Antonia & Diana 🔔

By Miiko - Corset crop-top

By Rusty - Autumn City II

By Rusty - Basic VI

By Rusty - Princess of XIII

By Serenity - Hazelnut Set (12 items)

By Serenity - SxC Love Myself. - The Collection (7 items)

By Serenity - Aurora Set (13 items)

By Serenity - Bloom Set (10 items)

By Serenity - Nuage Set (13 items)

By Serenity - Sour Candy, a 6 item set.

By Serenity - Amethyst Set (6 items)

By Trillyke - Skyline Sweater and Jumper

By Trillyke - Silver Light Jeans

By Trillyke - Bad Chemical Jacket

Swimsuits:

By Caiocc - Ipanema: A 9 items set

By Trillyke - 🌞Hello Summer! Collection 🌞

Men:

By Black Lily - Miles Top

By Rusty - Mellow IV

Shoes:

By Jius-Sims - Shoe Collections

By Madlen - Shoe Collection

Accessories:

By clumsyalien - «euphoria» cc pack

By Miiko - High knit socks

By Pralinesims - PARADOX Glasses

By Pralinesims - DUNE Glasses

By Pralinesims - DOMINO Glasses

By Pralinesims - AGONY Ear Piercing Collection

By Pralinesims - THUNDERSTRUCK Ear Piercing Collection

Hair:

By Sheabuttyr - hannah hair

By Simcelebrity00 - Lexi Hairstyle

By sweetaday - Sasa Hair

By clumsyalien - «sweet & sour» hairs

By Marso - lock and lease

By Marso - kauban cc dump

By Miiko - Emma hair version 2

By Miiko - Anya hair (two lengths)

Skin/Makeup:

By Miiko - Rhea skin set

By Miiko - Body-kit No.2

By Pralinesims - BELLINI Makeup Collection

By Pralinesims - WATERDROP Maxis-Match Eyes

By Pralinesims - ESCAPISM Eye Trio

By Serenity - Anise Lipgloss (11 colors)

Kids:

By Sunberry - Cottagecore Collection👗👗

By Daisy Pixels - 💐☀️ Sunny Skies ☀️💐

By Miiko - 3D eyelashes + Makoto hair (children)

Toddlers:

By Daisy Pixels - Tilly and Pua 🌞💐 🌻 🌼 🌹 🌸

By Miiko - 3D eyelashes for toddlers & infants

Stuff:

By Aira - .˚₊┈୨ The Artist in Me🪞୧┈₊˚.

By RusticSims - CAREYES LIV& DIN - AUGUST SET- TIER PRO (15 TEXTURE)

By Felixandre - THE LIVIN' RUM

By Sixam CC - Boho-Bath Botanical Retreat

By Aira - Study in Style Set…………🐻

By Push Pixels - Urban outdoor

By Syboubou - Clarisse office set

By Miiko - Harmony furniture set

Edit: erased one of the kid's CCs as I don't like the textures and how it fits the sims in general - will probably add more CCs to this in the future!

[stellarfics]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 [𝐜𝐡𝐩. 1]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!ransom drysdale x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, rape/non-con, drugging/date-raping, somnophilia, dom/sub undertones, degrading, oral sex (male receiving), virginity kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, choking, size difference, heavy misogyny, heavy angst, extreme physical violence (mentions of blood), extremely dark themes, 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you let your friends drag you out for a night, which turns into a living nightmare because of one person; Ransom Drysdale.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, it’s almost as if a stranger is gazing back at you. You look—different, good. You’re living and out of body experience, wearing the unusual skimpy outfit you’ve got on; a silk red dress hugging at your curves, makeup done to perfection, hair pinned up in a soft, angelic, loose bun.

You slowly drag your tongue along your bottom lip, feeling the buttery, slick texture of the red gloss laying across your lip, the taste of the plain, sticky substance odd on your tastebuds. Your tiny dorm echoes with a sharp rap against the rattling wood door, a signal that Daisy is waiting outside.

You sigh and give yourself one last glance as you grab your clutch, stopping at the door, eyeing your ratted-down coat, the left sleeve practically falling off at the shoulder, the seams frayed to no revival. You open your door and see the redhead beaming at you.

“Oh my god! You look amazing! Oh, I knew red would be your color.”

You blush at the reminder of the embarrassing conversation the pair of you had in a bustling, expensive store at the Boulevard Mall the week before. You swear you almost died when you saw the price tag.

“Ah, forget about it, I’ll put it on Daddy’s credit card. He won’t mind.” Daisy would say, twirling her hair around, without a care in the world.

To say she’d been born spoon-fed off a silver platter would be an understatement. Her parents were among the most wealthy in the country, god, maybe even the world.

They rubbed elbows with the rich, neck high in gold coins. You didn’t need her to tell you about her wealth, her Rolls Royce spoke for her, a shimmering silver-plated car her father had bought her at the beginning of the semester. You guess her Audi wasn’t cutting it.

You are practically tugged down to the elevator, all the way to her car. She opens the door and shoves you in, squealing in delight as she floors it to the club.

You weren’t raised in a mansion on Beacon Hill, hell you weren’t even the occasional litter on the sidewalks. You were a quiet, city girl, grinding your elbows in soap, helping your mother clean houses since you were five.

The whole nine yards were already planned out in your head since you were 10. You’d focus on your studies, push your way to the top, building up from scraps, from scratch.

But life isn’t like a dream. It never is.

The pair of you pull up to the club, the valet taking the keys from Daisy’s manicured hand. She links elbows with you, laughing like she’s already drunk, babbling about the off-fielder who’d won Crimson their last game. How, in her words, fucking massive his cock was. Swearing she almost died giving him head last week after the game.

The two of you push through the sweaty cluster of bodies and up to the bar. You hold Daisy up as she drunkenly orders a plate of shots. You sigh and drag your group to a table in the back corner.

They down the entire plate, leaving you a single shot. Your girls hook each other into their elbows and swing their hips into the crowd. You sigh and watch as the night unfolds. Two hours pass by in a flash and your single shot is slowly collecting water droplets over its glass in front of you.

You check your phone, the screen blinding you as it reads 1:28 am. You sigh and stand up, pushing your way through the swaying crowd. You make your way to Daisy, who’s practically going at it with some guy. 

You clear your throat and groan before you tap her on the shoulder. She swats your hand away before you try again. She turns around, heat in her eyes.

“What the fuck—oh, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” She asks, pushing the guy away from her. He grabs at her hips and tries to reel her back to him.

She shoves him away and grabs your wrist, pulling you to the back of the club, and into the bustling bathroom. The door swings open and it’s literal hell; you’re smacked in the face with the greatest cloud of weed mixed with vape smoke you’d ever imagined.

You cough and turn to the counter, girls and doing lines, snorting them through a wrinkled five-dollar bill. You stare for too long, if the way they turn to you with disgusted eyes says anything.

Daisy takes you into a stall, and pats your face with some powder, and fixes your lipstick.

“Maybe, I should go home…” You mumble as Daisy wipes excess lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“What? No. We just got here.”

“Daisy, this isn’t my thing.” You grimace and she sighs.

“Hey, the night isn’t totally ruined. You could still end up waking in someone’s bed.” She says in a sing-song voice.

“I hope it’s only my own.” You groan, rubbing at your forehead. You give Daisy the saddest, tired eyes you can muster and she sighs.

“Alright, we can go.” She says, nodding.

You shake your head. “Stay, you’ve got your floor partner out there waiting for you. I can make it home. I promise I’ll be okay.”

She nods and grabs your hand, dragging you out of the bathroom. “Be safe, this side of the city isn’t safe to be walking. I can set you up with an Uber.” 

“I’m okay. I promise, Daisy. I’ll see you in the morning.” You take her into a tight hug and she pats your hair down.

“I’m serious. Be safe.”

“Always.” You smile.

You sigh and walk out of the club, the Halloween chill has you shaking in your heels, wishing you’d brought your coat. You pull your phone out of your clutch and try the power button, only to find it dead. You think about going back into the club, groaning as you imagine pestering Daisy for a ride home.

Damn.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, spotting, from your peripheral vision, a group of men kicking around bottles at the end of the street. Conspiring against your prayers, whatever god lives above reels them towards you. They drunkenly try to sweet-talk you, reaching a hand out to grab the end of your dress.

Your heart thuds against your chest and your body heats up, anxiety rattling in your bones. Your hands shake against your thighs and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

It’s all to no avail.

“Are you all alone, honey?” One asks, most likely the ring leaders.

“No, a friend’s inside. She’s ordering us a cab.” You turn away from them, looking toward the club. A few frat boys come out, drunkenly laughing at themselves, and look you up and down.

You’re a slab of meat, a fresh sirloin steak, thrown in the middle of a street filled with strays, foaming at the mouth, claws digging into the gravel beneath you.

You find yourself slowly cornered into the street, before falling back on your palms. You find yourself being surrounded by both groups of men. The screech of tires being locked by breaks echoes through the night air, as you’re blinded by headlights. You turn your head to find yourself a foot away from the bumper of a car.

You swallow the thick lump in the bottom of your throat and move from the car.

The driver steps out, a silhouette, really—tall and broad, shoulders square, shoes shining as he stalks towards the front of the car. You drag your eyes up his body, catching the way his arms swell under the unearthly soft-looking material of a white, cable knit sweater, perfectly hidden by the overcoat he’s sporting.

You turn to the group of men, tails between their legs as they look at one another and scramble away. You’re left alone with the silhouette, he speaks to you, voice drowned by the whizzing cars and natural night noise.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice gruff and tired as he stalks closer to you.

You blink rapidly and quickly nod your head. You scramble onto your palms and shakily stand up. You move back a little as he simply stares at you.

“What were you doing out here alone?”

“I just—” You fix your dress, crossing your arms over yourself. “I was going home. This isn’t really my crowd.”

Ransom looks you up and down, and turns to the bar.

“Who took you there? It’s a scrub-hole.” He grunts, standing a little straighter.

“My…friend.”

“Some friend. Especially if she left you out here on your own.” He steps closer to you, staggering a little as the street lights finally shine upon him. The light scent of alcohol rolls with his words into the night air.

The yellow flickering lights illuminate him in a golden halo. It accentuates his broadness even more, creating the perfect shadows over his arms and chest; it paints him almost herculean.

Your eyes widen as he tilts his head a little, looking at your palm. You raise your hand up and look at the red filling the lines of your palm. You look at the ground and wipe off the blood and pavement residue off your hand.

“I’m Ransom, do you know your name?” He asks, looking at you, trying to see if you’re okay.

You just keep staring at him and he chuckles.

“Why don’t I take you home? Make sure you’re safe for the night?” He asks.

You look up at him, noticing just how much closer he’s gotten to you, and blink up at him from beneath your lashes. You feel your chest tightening as anxiety fills your veins.

“O-Okay.” You nod, taking Ransom’s offered hand and letting him lead you to his car. The hand on the small of your back burns through your dress. You feel his palm against your skin even when he lifts it, closing the door for you once you're settled.

He rounds the car, sitting in the driver's seat as he starts the car again. The engine revs to life as he slowly pulls forward, turning over to look at you. You simply stare at your heels and blink; the scenario slowly creeping up on you.

You turn to Ransom and look back out to the street. You watch as the car whizzes through the empty streets. Your eyes trail with street lights and dimmed buildings.

The car speeds into the merging lane of the highway—which goes to the opposite side of the city. You sit up a little, looking out towards the empty interstate.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to say I-I live at the dorms, the ones by the—”

“We’re going to my house.” He says, not even offering you a glance.

The prickling heat of anxiety bites at the back of your neck. You try to keep your composure as you look around at the slowly growing street.

He continues on the freeway, down till it becomes a one-lane road. It leads out onto a snow-covered street, which is lined with bare trees that break into a deep meadow.

The snow is illuminated a bright white as you grow closer to the house. The car's light shines upon a mansion—a literal mansion.

He circles into the driveway, parks the car, and steps out. He goes up to the door and unlocks it, stepping in. He leaves it open for you, not turning back to see if you walk in.

You swallow down your awe as you take a shaky step out of the car. You hear the click of your heels against the polished, marble steps of the house. Which looks like something out of a magazine, a Wright design come to life.

The windows go from roof to floor, illuminating the house with cool moonlight. The glass exterior is shimmering.

You gently push open the door and step inside, the warmth hitting you too quickly, burning your skin in contrast to the cold outside.

You take a deep breath and look around the foyer. It leads into the grand living room. A stone wall covers the foyer of the house. A large L-shaped couch covered in a disheveled blanket calls home there. A stunning fireplace has been left burning, and a small cartridge of graham crackers and marshmallows is left beside it.

It’s beautiful, breathtaking.

Ransom comes back, two glasses of scotch in his hands.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t really drink...” You say, waving a small hand in front of you.

“Now, that’s no way to treat someone who’s accommodating for you. Drink it.” He practically shoves the drink into your hands.

You look down at the glass and up at him.

“Drink it.”

You shiver under Ransom’s gaze and hesitantly take a sip. He nods and takes one from his own. He grabs your wrist and leads you back to the couch.

Sitting first and pulling you into his lap. You stiffen as you land over his thighs. He lays a hand between your own, close to your knee; drawing circles into your skin.

You aren’t sure what to do, frozen, stoic as you attempt to wrangle a thought. He seemingly reads your mind, humming softly, and brings a hand up to your hair.

He brushes it over your shoulder, playing with the ends. He looks at you with dark eyes and then turns to your cup.

“Drink.”

As if in a trance, you take the glass to your lips, slugging back a few drops. You hold it in your mouth, and let it burn your tongue before it slides down your throat and settles into your stomach.

He shakes his head and holds the glass for you.

“Such a silly little girl, take a little more.” He hums, voice laced with malice.

He takes your glass, tips it against your lips, and gently tips it back a little more. You groan and take the rest of the drink. You hold it in your mouth and whimper, squirming around.

“Swallow.”

You comply and take the burning liquid back; immediately coughing once you can get a deep breath of air.

He shushes you and pats your back a little, condescendingly cooing you. You cough and heave, attempting to stand up.

“No, no, hey, shh. It’s okay.” Ransom hums. “Breathe through your nose.”

He coaxes you through taking a deep breath. You follow his direction and hiccup on a breath. He nods you along and rubs a hand over your back.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

You end your coughing fit with a whine. You twist around in Ransom’s lap, face scrunched up in disgust. He simply chuckles, takes your glass, and sets it on the side table.

He rubs at your back and hums softly, looking at you. You whine and shake like a leaf in his lap. Ransom sighs and shushes you, petting your hair back.

“It’s alright, shh. Quiet now. You’re alright.” He shushes you.

You sniffle a little and he shushes you, brushing your hair a little more. You whimper and Ransom grabs your head, fingers drifting down to your chin.

“It’s okay, sweet thing.” He cooes, voice oddly soft and you whimper. He pets your hair back, looking at you. He holds your chin and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip.

“You’re so obedient, honey.” He mumbles, grinning softly.

Your stomach floors as your eyes widen like saucers. You feel your diaphragm quivering at the force of your muscles clenching against each other.

You swallow thickly, eyes flicking between Ransom’s and he tilts his head a little, feigning innocence. He catches the way you soften in his arms.

He nods and you sigh, melting in his arms. You feel your body go slack and Ransom drapes you over his arm. You whimper softly, eyes drooping as Ransom hums softly.

It’s a song you’ve known as a child, one your mother used to sing—as she’d tuck you into bed. You feel Ransom’s hand card through your curls, scratching lightly at your scalp.

You slump a little in his arms and Ransom just looks down at you. He knows what he brought you here for. He knows it’s just a matter of time before the sedative he mixed into your drink kicks in.

Only a few minutes before you’re pliable in his arms. At his will to do whatever he wants with you.

Only a few minutes that he can wait for.

He runs his fingers up the inside of your calf, following along the soft lines of your muscle. You lift your head, eyes unfocused as Ransom looks at you, eyes dark.

You move your leg from his hand, trying to scoot away from him. He shushes you, taking your cheek into his hand. He brushes his thumb over your skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He smiles, toothy and wide.

You blink a few times and Ransom brings you closer. Looking at your lips. You feel your heart thud in your chest, hear the echo in your ears; feel its heat under your skin as your cheeks burn.

“You’re so pretty.” Ransom says again, thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You can’t seem to swallow fast enough, recoil your legs to your chest, and curl into yourself. Ransom shushes you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“It’s just kissing, honey.” He says, crushing his lips to your own. You whimper and push a hand against his chest. His hard, rock-like, unmoving chest.

He takes your wrist, pinning it to your side, and kisses you; you grimace and squirm in his hold. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper softly.

“Stop.” You squeak, voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom breaks away, taking in a deep breath before nuzzling against your neck. Running his fingers along the soft skin of your calf.

“Just kissing, sweetheart.” He says, burrowing his face in your neck; sucking and biting at the soft skin there.

You keen softly and scrunch your shoulder, pushing at his chest again. The action is futile. You lay there in his arms, shocked to feel his lips oddly soft against your own.

You whine and he pulls back, blue eyes opening and drowning you. You tentatively wipe at your lips and his lips curl up with a chuckle.

He looks at you like that for a while, with dark, heavy eyes. He runs his hand against your thigh and you whimper, shifting away from him.

“No. You can’t hide from me.” He says, voice hard like nails and he grabs your jaw in a rather tight grip. It makes your blood freeze.

The daunting size difference between the two of you. Even now, in his lap, you barely reach his chest. The size of his palm is well over encasing your entire face. The thickness of his arms—which are circled around you in an extremely tight fashion—are such a distinct size to your waist.

The absolute strength they hold makes you shake; knowing Ransom could very well, literally throw you across the room at his command.

Your eyes widen as you look over the shadow of Ransom’s palm. You push at his forearm and he only tightens his hold, pressing your cheeks against your teeth.

You whimper and he pulls back. He gentles his touch again, thumbing your cheek and you swallow, eyes swimming with fear.

You take a few shaky breaths and shoot your gaze between Ransom’s eyes. He leans up again, stealing another kiss from you. He grabs you and rolls you over; laying over your body on the couch.

You bring your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back a bit. He nudges your legs apart, fitting himself between your thighs.

“Wait—stop.”

“We’re just kissing.” He says, going back to your neck, nipping at the skin there.

You shake your head, pushing at him to move. You bring your feet against his stomach, nudging him back.

“Stop. Please.” You whimper, voice squeaky and uneven. Your vision begins to blur and you’re unsure if it's from the tears welling in your eyes or not.

He simply groans in your ear, laying flat against you; rutting his long-forgotten, massive, hard-on against you. You whimper and stiffen under him.

“Stop, please. Stop.” You beg, on the verge of tears.

“Just kissing.” He says, lifting his head up.

He kneels back, looking down at you with dark eyes. You cower further back into the couch, closing your legs and bringing your arms over your chest, covering yourself as much as you can. Ransom brings a hand between your thighs, pushing them apart.

You reach down for his hand, vision melting and arms becoming weak as you grab his forearm. He shushes you, petting your hair back and cupping your cheek.

“That’s it. Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Such an obedient girl.” He cooes, eyes dark and grinning like a devil.

Your eyes slip closed and you make a soft little noise in the back of your throat.

Ransom nearly feels guilty, taking a sweet thing like you this way. He knows he’ll hurt you, definitely more than you can take, judging solely on how small you are. He practically cages you against his body on the couch.

He sighs and stands up, hauling you over his shoulder, and walks through the first floor, up the stairs. He makes his way through the upstairs to his bedroom, laying you across the bed. He sighs and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

It makes your dress ride up over your thighs. He smirks and runs a hand along the inside of your thigh, finding the soft, squishy, skin there perfect. He hums and pulls his hand back, he pushes your dress over your thighs up to your stomach.

He smirks at the soft, red silk panties you wear. The way they hug you perfectly, he’s almost saddened when he tears them in half. You whine and bring your legs closed, he admires the way that, even when you’re drugged, you keep your modesty.

He shushes you, petting a hand along your hair, and stands again. He pulls your dress down your chest, baring your tits to him.

He groans at the way they jiggle; their weight feeling perfect in his hands. He thumbs your nipples, the pink flesh growing into a hardened bud that he tugs and teases, loving the soft sounds the movement pulls from your throat.

He grunts and brings his hand between your legs. He runs his fingers against the soft, moist skin there, he feels his chest swell with the predatorial pride that he’s made you wet.

He lifts his hand, raking his fingers against your skin to the point goosebumps rise on your thighs. He teasingly brushes his thumb against your clit, grinning at the way you twitch; closing your legs, trapping his hand again.

He rubs his thumb against your nub a little harder, pressing your thigh into the mattress. It’s what wakes you up.

You blink drowsiness from your eyes, looking around the room and feeling something at your thighs—between your thighs. You whimper and rise up on your elbows, blood freezing as you see Ransom standing between your legs. Your lips part and Ransom’s on you like a flash.

He pins you under him, one hand covering your mouth, the other holding your head to his palm.

“Don’t scream.” He says, voice sinister.

You whine as tears well in your eyes.

“Gonna be a good girl? Gonna be quiet for me?” He whispers, staring at you with intent eyes.

You hiccup beneath his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut. He slowly pulls back his hand, running his fingers over your hair.

“Such an obedient girl. If you're good for me, I’ll make it sweet for you. Okay?” He cooes, voice lined with poison.

You simply take in the little breath your lungs hold and he smirks. He runs his hand down your neck, over your side, brushing along your tit to cup its weight in his hand. He brushes his thumb against your nipple and squirm under him; face burning red.

You bite back a whine, veins in your neck straining with fear. He tweaks your bud between his fingers, tugging at your nipple and you cry out; squeezing your eyes shut and turning away from him.

Your hands come up for a moment, going to push at his shoulders before staying stoic in the air. He grabs your wrists, coils them in a single hand, and pins them above your head on the mattress.

“Keep them there, if they move, I’ll hit you.”

He brings his hand back to your tit, slapping it and smirking at the way it moves against your ribs. You whimper, turning your head into your own arm and covering your face.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls, grabbing your jaw and twisting your head back to him.

Your eyes are squeezed shut and you’re shaking under him; your body is so tense, that your muscles are beginning to ache. Pain radiates off your body, skin goes cold. He taps his fingers against your cheek and you whine, flinching under his hand.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

You slowly open your eyes, tears run down your cheeks and fill your ears as your bottom lip quivers. He runs his hand down your side again, and you twist away from him. He tightens the grip on your jaw and shakes his head.

“Don’t move.”

He lets go of your jaw, snaking down your body, laying against your stomach. He leans down, pressing a single kiss to the center of your chest, before he turns his head and takes a nipple into his mouth.

You cry out, stomach and chest caving into the bed. You turn away from him, shooting your arms down, pushing at his head and he leans up, turning your head back to him only for him to strike his palm against your cheek.

Fast, sharp, and hard.

The noise of skin hitting skin echoes throughout the second floor of the house. You can’t hide the soft squeak that escapes your lips and you bite your lip, hiccuping softly as you stare up at him. Your vision is muddled by your tears as you see him go back down—you feel his lips around your tit, tongue pressing against your nipple.

You twist against him and he simply lays a hand over your stomach, pinning you to the bed. He sucks and bites at the skin of your chest, grunting as he ruts himself against your thigh.

The tears that have been beads now become full rivers. You hiccup as you try to subtly move away from him. He frees your tit with a soft wet ‘pop’ and sits over your thighs.

He looks down at you, eyes dark as he grabs your wrists, grips tight, and seethes.

“I said not to move.”

You take a shaky breath and nod, chest rising and falling far too fast for your heart to handle.

He grabs for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the bed with a soft thud. Your jaw goes a little slack as you stare up at his body; the one carved like a porcelain Greek god.

Eyes dark like unruly oceans, nose swooping down to a perfect tip, lips plump and soft, like luscious pillows, jaw strong and hard. His arms which are practically logs, veins running under their skin beautifully, the muscles flex and shadow against the light of the lamp on his bedside table.

They lead down to his chest, burly and hard, covered with a light spruce of hair over his pecs. It leads down to his abs, which are hard and have veins crawling up his sides, melting into his skin, his v-line is impeccable as it gives just that much before leaving the rest for imagination.

He looks down at you, cups your cheek, brushing away the tears that stray, and growls at the way you flinch from his palm.

He tangles his hand into the back of your head and brings you up to steal a kiss from your lips. It’s owning and hard, possessive and hot.

He swipes his tongue against your bottom lip and you gasp, lips parting. He licks into your mouth, you can taste the bourbon he’s had earlier on his tongue.

It makes you whimper and turn away from him, breaking the kiss.

You hiccup, squeezing your eyes shut, and await the impending blow he’s bound to lay on your cheek. Only it doesn’t come.

The sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room and your eyes crack open. You shoot up and move away from Ransom.

“No, no, please. You can’t.” You beg, voice cracking as you cower over yourself.

He pushes you back, grabbing your arms and pinning them at your side. You kick and push at his chest, scratching over his arms and he hisses.

“Stop! Stop fighting me!” He hits you with a blow to your ribs and you scream out, twisting against him.

You cry and cry, curling onto your side, in a ball. You shake your head and push him away as he tries to grab you.

“Please! Please!” You beg.

Ransom moves off the bed, grabs your ankle, and pulls you to the edge. You thrash against him, legs and arms flailing as you try to escape his grasp.

He grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back with enough force to give you whiplash. You cry out and scream as he covers your mouth with a hand.

“Shut up. Shut up!” He strikes your cheek again.

You push your hands against his chest and hiccup. He leans in close and growls, eyes dark and you whimper.

“Please, you can do anything—anything but…that.” You hiccup, tears muddling your vision.

Ransom looks at you and takes in your words. He takes in the way you look, afraid and shaking; a scared little girl and he lets out a soft breath.

“You’re a virgin.”

Your blood freezes and you stare at him, a deer in headlights. You look between his eyes and your bottom lip quivers.

You stare at him as he brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing your skin with his thumb.

“If you’re good, I’ll be gentle.”

“No, please. Please. Please!”

You cry out, your heartbeat kicking up as he moves off the bed. He pulls his belt free and kicks off his slacks, along with his briefs, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging you over to him.

He pins you under him, holding your head up and smacking his cock against your cheek. You whimper and whine, turning away from him.

“Open your mouth.” He groans.

He pushes his cock against your lips and you cry out, thrashing against him. He pushes at the hinges of your jaw and your mouth falls open.

He pushes himself between your lips and you scrape your teeth against his cock.

“Open your mouth. Open your mouth!” He hisses. “Don’t fucking bite me or I’ll beat you dead.”

You spit up over it, coughing and pushing at his thighs. He groans, hand encasing your neck as he forces himself down your throat.

He grins at the way you cough and choke over his cock, slapping at his thighs. He pushes deeper, bringing your head up till your nose brushes against his sac.

You feel lightheaded at the pressure, ears ringing and you push at his thighs. He pulls back, groaning. You cough and rise up to your elbows, gasping for breath.

“That’s it. God your throat is tight. Feel so good around me.” He coos. “Your lips are so pretty around my cock.”

You cough and hiccup, trying to crawl away from him. Ransom simply grabs you by the hair, dragging you back to him. He grabs his cock, pushes it against your lips and down your throat.

He groans at the deep, echoing swallow you make around his dick, spit bubbling up at the edges of your mouth.

Your hands are pushing at his thighs, nails digging into his skin and you whimper. He shushes you, thrusting in and out of your mouth.

“That’s it, breathe through your nose.” He coos, brushing your hair back.

He pulls back, leaving the tip between your lips and you cough.

“Shh, breathe.” Is all he says before he thrusts into your throat again. He pats your cheek and hums.

You whine and tears roll down your cheeks. You push your hands at his thighs and he finally pulls back all the way.

“Such a good little throat.” He pats your cheek.

Ransom moves from you and you scramble onto your knees, coughing. You crawl away from him and he sighs, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back to him.

“No. No! Please!” You scream, clawing at the sheets.

He climbs over you, pinning you to the bed, and grabs your cheek.

“Stop, stop it!” He shakes your head back and forth in a near-comical way.

He looks at you, taking in the fear in your eyes, and sighs.

“If you’re good for me, I’ll be good to you.” He says, eyes softening. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

You bring your hands to his chest and hiccup, gently pushing him back. He shushes you, petting your hair back, and kneels over your thighs.

You try to move from him, twisting and squirming under him, all to no avail. He splits your thighs apart, pushing one up to your chest, the other to the bed, and spits onto his fingers.

He drags them up against your slit, smirking at the way you’re growing wet. Just like he knew you’d be. You try and fail not to arch into his fingers, closing your legs against his palm.

He grins darkly and gently runs his middle finger through your wetness before gently pushing into you. You cry out, hands shooting down for his forearm. You pant and heave, your body burning a hot red as you try to push his hand out.

Through it all you’ve been whimpering a soft mantra of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’. He curls his finger upwards, stretching you out for him. You whimper and cry, clenching your teeth as he pushes more than you can take.

He adds another finger and you squeal, punching his arm. He lets you; he lets you mark up his arm with crescent moons from your nails, raking lines down his skin. He lets you.

You gasp and curl against him. He pulls his hand back, patting your thigh, and gently nudges you back. You cry out and kick against him and he lets you.

You whimper and hiccup, trying to close your legs as he kneels between them. He spits into his palm, taking himself in hand and giving himself a few jerks.

You hiccup, swiping hastily at the tears in your eyes, and look up at him. Your bottom lip quivers and your face heats up.

“Ransom, please. Please.” You beg.

He pays no mind to your please and pushes your legs further apart, to accommodate his size. He looms over you like a dark cloud and pushes his cock between your folds.

He groans as he grinds against you. You burn a beet red and turn away from him, pushing a hand at his chest. He brings his hands to your sides, fingers digging into the meat of your hips.

He drags the tip of his cock against you, slapping it against your cunt lewdly, before pushing into you.

You scream. It’s cracked and loud, hoarse, and followed by a broken sob as tears stream down your cheeks. He’s far too big for your abused cunt, you truly feel like he’s splitting you apart. Your ears ring and you scream more, on the verge of passing out.

Ransom fully sheathes himself in you, bottoming out, huffing softly. You thrash in his arms, hitting balled fists against his sides and chest. They hold no power to them, weak and brittle.

You overexert yourself, hiccuping and trying to swallow what little breath you’re given, and go back to sobbing. You cry and cry as Ransom simply stays seated in you.

His body is heavy against your stomach. His arms are brute and strong against your waist and his hands are warm against your skin.

He pulls back, looking down, and finds himself spotted with blood. He lifts you a little, to which you cry, and finds specs of blood against his silk, white sheets.

He fixes his hands over your hips and thrusts into you. You go limp under him, falling back into the bed with a hiccup. He thrusts into you with inhuman strength, railing you into the bed.

You stare up at him, vision muddled and spotty from your tears. You hiccup and close your eyes, turning away from him. He grabs your jaw and turns you back, tapping your cheek.

“Look at me. Look at me.” He says. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

You sob and open your eyes, looking up at him. He pants and groans above you, sweat coating his chest. He grunts and licks his thumb, bringing it between your thighs to rub at your clit.

You whimper, shaking under him. You twist away from him and he smirks, rubbing harder. You let out a little squeak before biting your bottom lip and covering your mouth with a palm.

“Oh, you like that?”

You turn away and he grabs your jaw.

“Don’t hide from me.” He growls and you instinctively bring your hands up to cover your head. It enrages him and he punches you in the ribs, the soft squeak you give makes him furious.

He throws a few more punches to your sides as you gasp. He loves seeing the way you try to curl inward after every blow.

He punches you in the stomach this time, hard and you gasp out. Pulling back as he goes to give you another. You’re gasping and panting, in absolute pain and he scoffs.

He pulls out and flips you onto your knees, pushing your back down before sliding back in you. You cough and spit up, arms too weak to hold you.

You gasp and hiccup into his sheets, coughing and wheezing as you try to breathe through your perforated lungs.

He grabs your hips and rams into you, relentless at the pain he’s causing you. He sees the blood pooling around your mouth and lifts your head. He grabs your hair and cranes your neck to him.

Blood covers your bottom lip and he wipes it away. He looks at you and pauses for a split second. You whimper and simply let your eyes close, going limp in his hold.

He drops your head back down, grabs a hold of the back of your neck, and thrusts into you. He grunts and wraps a hand around your throat as he ravages you into the bed.

You sob out, arching against him and he shushes you, kneeling down over your back. He presses himself against you, groaning into your ear.

You whimper at his groans and he smiles, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your clit. You gasp and try to close your legs, twisting under him.

“Don’t do that.” He says, pushing them apart.

You whine, high and pitchy in your throat and he shushes you. He rubs gentle, teasing circles over your bud and you shiver under him.

You make a soft little noise and he grunts into your ear. You bite your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and he shakes his head, tapping your cheek.

“Don’t hide your noises from me.” He teases, “Let me hear you.”

“You know you love this.” He hisses, voice hot and seething against your ear.

You whimper, digging your head into his sheets, gasping against the silk fabric. He grabs your hips again, fucking you into the bed as you cry out.

He settles back on his knees and rams into you, grabbing your neck again. You hiccup and tense under Ransom, as he grinds down against you. It’s not long before he feels the heat biting at the tail of his spine.

It crawls up his back and he groans, laying flatter against you. He brings his arm around your neck, fitting your head into his elbow. You cough out and try to push his arm away.

“You feel so good around me. Such a tight little cunt.” He smirks at the way you whimper, shifting under him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts into your ear.

You tense under him, trying to push him off you. You kick your legs back and he grabs your jaw.

“Stop!”

“Please, don’t, you can’t—please!” You beg.

You sob, voice cracking as you heave against him. He tightens his arm around your neck, pinning you under him. You flail under him, trying to push him off as your face begins to turn almost purple-red. You gasp and gurgle as he cuts off your airway.

You smack your hand against his arm, nails digging into his skin. He hisses and slaps your face, bringing his arm even further around your neck. You struggle in his arms and he grunts, pushing down on your back.

You cough out, ears ringing and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You give out one last squeak before you go limp in his arms.

He sighs and lets your head drop from behind his arm. You drop on the side of his bed and he grunts, rising back up to his knees.

He grabs your hips, bringing you over his thighs, and ruts into you. He feels that heat begin to crawl up his spine again. It curls into his arms and neck, he groans; an animalistic, masculine sound—loud and gruff and he pushes all the way into you.

His cock twitches as he fills you with load after load of his cum. He groans, fingers digging into your hips as he finishes off.

Ransom sighs and shifts back a little, pulling out. He looks down to see blood spotted over his sheets in the mix of your fluids.

He looks up at you and grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. His eyes instantly are glued to the finger-shaped marks lying on your cheek.

They’re even more prominent with the black, smudged mascara lining them. Your makeup is smeared over your face with your tears creating white lines through it. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are puffed. There’s a small string of blood coating your upper lip, trailing down from your nose.

His eyes trail down the rest of your body, which is littered with more red spots. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, a deep groan coming out of your lips with each exhale.

He looks down at your ribs, the yellowing spots on your skin and he clenches his teeth as he cringes. The thing that truly catches his eye is the softball-sized bruise in the center of your stomach.

The one he’d given you earlier. The noise it’d pulled from you replays in his head. A broken, half-sobbed squeak.

He groans with disgust and grabs a blanket, throwing it over your body.

He stands from the bed, rubs at his eyes, and walks over to the ensuite. He starts up a shower, washes his body down, and gets out. He dries himself off and walks back into the room. He grabs a pair of briefs and steps into them.

He grabs a pair of sweats and looks over at you. He stares at you, the way your chest expands with a broken noise.

He cringes again, goes to the guest room across the hall, and sighs. He rolls onto the bed, flipping back to stare at the door.

The house is dark, the slight hum of the night echoes through his ears and he sighs. He burrows his head in his pillow and wills himself to sleep.

A/N: alright, wow, rewriting this took forever, like well over a few months. i tried so hard to perfect this chapter, and ended up with like 20 drafts of it lol, anyway to the ones who enjoyed, please reblog! (they're greatly appreciated in this household)

ANYWAY, thanks for all the support on AO3, love you all mwah x <3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Before You Go Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: You thought you had it all figured out, but when a certain green-eyed stranger keeps showing up in your life and turns it upside down you wonder if it’s best to push him away or if you should let him in. Reader is a grad student in medical school that doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world.

Tropes: A little bit of academia, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Angst, Long Distance Relationship.

Warnings: Some swearing, Talks of Sex (not explicit), Sexual Tensions, Some self deprecating thoughts from reader and from Dean occasionally, Individual warnings will be in issued in each chapter for anything I missed, Dean is a little OOC.

I Wish You The Best: When Dean keeps showing up in your life, you wonder if any of it is real or if you wish that you never met him.

I've Got Those Roommate Blues: Dean and you try to navigate the ins and outs of a long distance relationship, but what happens when he's not there?

In Case I Do Something Stupid: When Dean sends you a surprise in the mail and starts acting weird, you worry that he's hiding something from you, but is it really what you think? *Newly Revised*

Movie Madness: COMING SOON!

Last Updated On 10/04/2024

Taglist: @sunnyhummingbee @roseblue373 @brightlilith @snowayumi @ladysparkles78

@kittydeany77 @daisy-the-quake @mrsjenniferwinchester

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the Before You Go universe, please let me know :)

(Photos On Mood Board From Pinterest.)