#rob naked in a leather jacket

[meerschweinchen-archive]

Mika!! List your favourite Hyukoh songs, pretty please? 🥺❣️❣️😘

love you for asking this ❤️

starting with the one! my mouth has not closed since i watched the music video when it came out

when you die i’ll be next to you, when you drown i’ll drown for you, when you’re sad can i sing you blues, when you’re naked i’ll be clothing you <3

SING A SONG TO MY BELOVED FRIENDS DEAR SIMON

oh hyuk i would rob the jail with you <3

also love ya and mer, gondry, ohio, tomboy, gang gang schiele, paul, jesus lived in a motel room, bawling…. it’s too many but i need to mention them all at this point i’m more hyukoh songs than human

[koschei-the-ginger]

Finally posting my thoughts on Cary Elwes' films between 1979-2004

Yesterday's hero (1979) - he's an extra somewhere in this shot, I guess lol

Another Country - he was so awkward lol but this movie was overall great.

Oxford Blues (1984) - I couldn't stand watching 80s Rob Lowe in a sports drama so I only skimmed through this one. His character was posh and obnoxious™

The Bride (1985) - this was so bad, I only skimmed through it and I still cringed all the time.

Lady Jane (1986) - the first movie I watched for this post, I ended up staying up until 4 am on a work day and I have to say, he simply looks too catholic to be in this movie, I am sorry, that's all I could think about... And for a movie about two 15 year kids it featured a lot of extremely uncomfortable scenes of them naked

The Princess Bride (1987) - listen, I totally get the hype but I watched it for the first time as an adult only bc it was famous on tumblr so I just can't feel about it the way others do

Maschenka (1987) - I looked so hard for this movie and only found in it Russian dub, which was voiced over the german dub and I'm not that desperate yet... I don't think I missed anything important.

Never on a Tuesday (1989) - another movie I just skimmed to see his 2-minute part, the plot was about some guys trying to hook up with a hot lesbian or something. Charlie Sheen appeared too for about 30 seconds

Glory (1989) -this should not be a movie about Matthew Broderick....

Days of Thunder (1990) - Tom Cruise snoozefest but he's really good at being blond and annoying™

Hot Shots! (1991) - the sequel is way better

Leather jackets (1991) - miscast in a terrible movie again

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) - finally something interesting!

Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993) - I imagine this is how other people feel about the Princess Bride, this is the movie of my childhood. Looking at it now, there are some problematic jokes but it's still just so funny.

The Crush (1993) - why are there so many movies about grown ass men "being seduced" by literal children. I'm sure I've seen this movie as a kid, the way he punched her in the face in the end felt so familiar

1994-1999 - covered in a previous post

Cradle Will Rock (1999) - convoluted mess

Shadow of the Vampire (2000) - Willem Dafoe being creepy in an indie movie for 92 minutes, it's strange but it's not bad

The Cat's Meow (2001) - lame, messy, who asked for this? ...

Wish You Were Dead (2002) - When I tried watching it for the first time I had to turn it off after 3 minutes. Glad I gave it a second chance, it's a low-budget direct-to-video movie that's very silly and nobody is taking it seriously, Cary Elwes sounds like he forgot his inhaler, Elaine Hendrix is just there for the funsies and Mary Steensburgen is having the time of her life playing a small town gold digger.

Comic Book Villains (2002) - another low budget movie but if you like Natasha Lyonne you should definitely give it a go. I'm sure I've seen it before

Saw (2004) - I don't need to talk about Saw, that movie is the reason I'm doing all of this

Ella Enchanted (2004) - he's a bit too over the top tbh

American Crime (2004) - I get the impression that he's the only one who knew this movie is unwatchable so he just went and did... anything. He looks, sounds and behaves like a parody of David Attenborough.

[samcro-before-hoes]

Biker Born and Bred

Chapter 1: Patch Party

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Author note: Hey! Here’s the first chapter, I hope y’all enjoy it. It’s a little short the others should be longer.

TW:

This is a 18+ page therefore is an 18+ story. Language, drugs, alcohol, guns, sexual situations/smut, serious themes such as domestic violence, rape, abortion, miscarriage etc. will be mentioned throughout.

I do not give anyone permission to copy or translate on their own pages.

If you wanna be added to the taglist comment or dm me! Feel free to comment and reblog! Tell me what you think! Hope y’all enjoy!❤️

-samcro before hoes

************************************

{The Clubhouse around 10:00 am}

[3rd pov]

Jax walks out of the onsuite bathroom of the clubhouse apartment with a smile as he watches Natalie pull her tiny black lace thong up her tanned thighs. She makes eye contact with him, then her eyes examine his body.

The towel he's wearing from his shower hangs low on his hips, this muscular body is slicked with water droplets. “Where you goin' babe?” he asks.

“The guys are here,” she sighs, he nods. Walking over to her wrapping his arms around her naked waist, her arms go around his neck. Her bare chest touching his upper stomach. His hand grabs her ass. Her fingers play with the ends of his wet hair. He kisses her deeply, she deepens the kiss, one of her hands resting on his tattoo for Abel for a second before going to the towel he had around his waist making it drop to the floor. He smirks into the kiss at her boldness, both of his going to her ass before squeezing it roughly. She moans into his mouth.

There's a knock at the door. “Church. 10 minutes.”Happy's voice comes from behind the door. Jax pulls back from their heated kiss.

“Kay'!” Jax yells to the door. Nat groans letting her forehead rest on his chest. He chuckles.

“Later babe, later.” He kisses the top of her head. She lets him go so he can get dressed. He walks over to the dresser filled with his clothes. She looks to the chair next to the bed grabbing her black t-shirt.

“Are you going on the ride to Oakland today?” She asks as she puts her shirt on not bothering to look for her bra. Jax nods from across the room now wearing a pair of white boxers.

“Nah, Tripp is taking Chibs and Jag with him.” He says walking back over to her. Natalie’s dad, Rob or Tripp, is president of the club and her older brothers and uncle are members, she was raised around the club, it was all she ever wanted to be apart of.

Jax is finished getting dressed before Natalie. She looks at him as he waits on the edge of the bed.

“Go ahead. I'll be out in a minute.” he nods standing up he kisses her quickly before he walks to the door looking back at her as she wiggles into her jeans. He throws his hoodie on before shrugging on his kutte. She puts on he she her leather jacket and kutte. She looks to Jax who is watching her with a small smile she raises a brow.

“What?” She asks looking at the blue eyed man standing in front of her. She grabs her her knife holster from the nightstand and snaps it onto a belt loop of her jeans.

“You look good in a kutte Nat.” he states before opening the door and walking out, he closes the door behind him. She smiles.

Natalie grabs her gun that was also on the nightstand. She drops the magazine and checks it before putting it back into place making sure one in the chamber, ready to shoot. She tucks it in the back of her pants. She takes a look in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair to smooth out the serious case of sex hair that she has. She flips her hair into a ponytail. She checks her pocket for her phone making sure it's in her jackets pocket before she walks out of the dorm door. She walks down the hall way then into the main room of the clubhouse. She walks to the bar where her mom, Gemma, and Gen are sitting.

“Mornin' baby,” Beth smiles holding her arms out for her daughter, Nat hugs her mom.

“Mornin' Mama.” Nat whispers in her ear before pulling back and kissing her moms cheek. She picks up her moms coffee taking a sip. Beth runs her fingers through the knotted ends of Natalie's hair.

“You own a hair brush.” Beth states looking to her daughter who is drinking her coffee, not approving of her daughters messy appearance. Natalie winces with a nod grabbing her mom's wrist to stop her from detangling the ends of her hair.

“I slept here last night,” Natalie sets the coffee cup down not bothering to look towards Gemma who she knows is staring holes into her. “It was a late one for me, so I crashed here. Didn't bring a bag.” Nat lies with ease. Beth nods not believing her daughter's story. She knows that Natalie is keeping something from her. She's painfully aware of the fact that as of recently her and Natalie are not as close as they once were, she noticed a shift in Nat's behavior since before the divorce but recently it's like she's a million miles away from Beth.

"Nat," Ope calls from the meeting room door, "We're ready." She kisses Beth's cheek then turns and kisses Gen's before walking to 'chapel' as they call it. She drops her phone in the box with everyone else's before walking in and closing the door behind her. She sits down next to Chibs who is her dad's Sargent in Arms. Her older brother Jagger sets down next to her and Tig sits beside him. Happy and Opie are right next to the end. Jax, Juice, Bobby, are on the other side. Cowboy, Gemma’s old man is sitting at the end of the table with Piney. Half-Sack and Danny are setting in chairs on wall since they are prospects as well.

“Okay,” Tripp hits the gavel against sound block once everyone is settled, starting church. “Jagger, Chibs, Bobby, Cowboy, and I are going to meet Leroy in Oaktown today, Jax, Happy, Nat, go to Cara Cara make sure everything is good there. Tig, Juice and Ope go check on the gun warehouse, and prospects, stay here and help set up for tonight. Piney- you run em’, have some tequila old man it's your 68th after all.” Tripp states leaning back comfortably. Everyone hoops and hollers for Piney’s Birthday.

“Hale has been up all our asses lately so we may have baby sitters, be careful.” Jax warns shifting the conversation back to business, Natalie looks around the table, she can tell Jagger isn't happy he's not going to Cara Cara, and seeing Jess.

“I gotta have a talk with Unser. Maybe I can convince him to put a leash on his deputy dog.” Tripp agrees. Nat rolls her eyes.

“Unser's just waiting for the clock to run out.” Jax shakes his head “Old mans a lame duck.”

“We gotta do something about Hale. There has to be something he wants.” Bobby says from his usual spot.

“We've offered everything, he wants nothing from us. He's just wants the MC out just like his dad and his corrupt brother.” Natalie shakes her head putting her cigarette out while blowing out smoke.

“I'll have a chat with Unser. We will figure it out, we always do.” Tripp assures with a nod. He leans further back into his chair.  “Also our matriarchs have been talking and have decided they wanna do a dinner Friday. It'll be at my house so I expect you all to be there, and don't forget about the party tonight it should start bout start at 8:30 or 9:00, that's when Ric said he and the guys will get here.” Nat glances around the table and nods. Her uncle Ric, her brother Derek and Nicky’s two brothers have been nomad for almost a year, but they are coming back to Charming.

“Okay let's go.” Tripp orders as he slams the gavel. Everyone get up and starts to head out the doors. Natalie watches as her dad heads over to her mom and Genevieve wrapping an arm around each of the women. How the three of them blend together perfectly.

Beth and Rob have been together since Beth was 18. Rob was already a member of the club when they met. They married when she was 19. Then babies started.

Jagger was born in 77, about a year later Rob and Beth met Gen at a party the club was throwing, what was supposed to be a one-time wild night, became a frequent thing. All three of them became very close that's when Rob and Beth knew the relationship changed, they had fallen in love with her and she with them not long into the love affair Gen got pregnant with Derek.

Jagger was born to Beth in 77’ Derek to Gen in 78’, Sawyer to Beth in December of 78’, Brady to Beth in 80’, Natalie and Kade to Beth in 82’, 85’, Sydney to Beth in 86’, Blake was born in the spring of 90’, Kate to Beth in 92’ and John-Luke to Beth in 96.

Over the years the family grew together. Almost like Beth, Gen and Rob were all married to each other, obviously not legally but in their hearts. They all love each other. Women would say it's weird. Men would say it would be a dream come true. But for them it is normal. It’s always been normal to Natalie.

Genevieve has always played co-mom to Beth's kids and vise-versa. When Nat needed someone to fight for her she called her mom, when she needed someone to be a voice of reason she called Gen and when she needed someone to save her ass she called her dad.

{30 minutes later Cara Cara Studio}

[3rd pov]

Jax, Happy, and Nat, pull up together. Jess and Charlotte are standing outside. Charlotte is in a dressing gown, smoking a joint. Jess next to her heavily pregnant and obviously irritated.

“Just be grateful you don't have scenes with that cunt.” Charlotte grits to her sister taking another hit off the joint between her fingers.

“Char, I need you to not be at her throat for an hour so we can finish this god damn scene, if you don't wanna be eating her out for the next two weeks I need you to just go in there and pretend she's your best friend or something.” Jess pleads with Charlotte. Jax, Nat and Happy get off their bikes. Natalie looks at Jax trying not to laugh at the girls conversation.

Nicky comes out the warehouse door slamming it closed in anger.

“Miss Ima-Bitch is in there being a diva. She is demanding we skip the scissor-sisters scene because it 'doesn't feel authentic to her' who the fuck does she think she is?” Nicky rants to Jess. Luann is on a vacation thanks to a nice pair of new tits so Jess is in charge of CaraCara productions. Jess asked Lyla to help her out, then when Nicky started doing some shoots for CaraCara she asked her. Jess rolls her eyes.

“Can y'all just be adults? Nicky go in there and tell her she either does the scene or she's out of the movie entirely, and if she has a problem with that then she can go to a different studio. Charlotte, go in there and be nice to her. I don't care if you hate her, all you have to do is fuck her convincingly.” Jess scolds and orders them around like she does her own children. Nicky and Charlotte both do as told and walk into the warehouse. Jess cross her arms.

“Problems in Pussy Paradise?” Natie questions with a playful tone. Jax looks to her and rolls his eyes, Happy has an amused look on his face.

“You have no idea,”Jess rolls her eyes. “What's up? Is something wrong?” She asks concerned holding her growing baby bump almost protectively. Last time they just showed up at the studio was when Jagger was shot. Jax shakes his head.

“Rob just sent us to check in on the place, make sure you guys moved in okay.” Jax assures. Jess nods her head.

“Come on in, see for yourself.” the three bikers follow Jess into the warehouse.  The scent of cheap perfume and sex is heavy in the air as they walk in. Nat eyes trail around the open room, there are different sets divided, crewmen all around as well as half naked to fully naked women.

“It looks good.” Natalie praises, looking around the place. “Yeah, it does.” Happy nods in agreement, his raspy voice filling the air. Nat rolls her eyes, Jax chuckles. Ima walks over completely ignoring the three bikers and going straight for Jess.

“This whole thing is bullshit Jessica and you know it.” Ima barks. Jax clears his throat, that's when Ima looks to him seductively.

“We better get back to the clubhouse. See ya later.”Jax nods towards Jess touching her arm, ignoring Ima much to Natalia’s pleasure. Jax turns around and starts walking off, Happy and Nat behind him.

“I'll see you at the Patch Party tonight! Right Jax?” Ima calls toward Jax. Patch Parties or any club party used to be Nat's favorite thing, the booze, the smoke, the dancing, the overall party. Everyone came. But lately it became something that made her uncomfortable. She wasn't certain of the emotion but it made her skin crawl.

{Natalie's house around 7:30}

[3rd pov]

Nat hears the rumble of a bike outside and immediately know who it is. Jax.

Jax takes a deep breath as parks his beloved Dyna in Natalia's driveway. He turns it off looking up at very lit up Natalie's house.

Jax has been with a lot of women. There is no denying that. The majority of his hook ups, consisted one-night stands with any and every crow eater, in the clubhouse dorm, usually in his preferred doggy style position so he didn't have to see their faces, and wasn't reminded that they weren't her.

Nat had known Jax since she was a little kid, Jax and her older brothers Jagger and Derek were/are best friends, and him being 5 years older than her he took on a protective role towards her.

They stayed like that for year's until she came home and prospect with SAMCROW.

Once she graduated high school she was gone. She left Chariming the day after graduation, riding her bike to wherever she wanted. She had lovers. She was gone for four years. Came back got married. Separated within 8 months. But she always wanted Jax, they had there moments way back when but it never took off like it has been for the past year.

Jax had married Wendy because he wanted something more than just fucking the crow eaters, but even after he married her there was nothing intimate about their marriage. Sure they fucked. A lot, that's what their relationship was built on, but they never really connected. She was usually to loaded and he never comfortable enough with her.

However, this, what he is doing with Natie - his best friends baby sister, his club mate…His Talia was different. It felt different; he felt different. He couldn’t sleep without her beside him. He worried when Rob sent them on separate missions. When his phone rang he prayed it was her, and that was something Jax Teller had given up on a long time ago.

Jax gets off his bike and walks into Natalie's house and goes straight to her room.

“Hey,” Nat smiles from her bed. A black silk robe on her tanned body. Her raven hair is knotted to her head with a claw clip. She raises the remote and pauses the tv.

“Why aren't you dressed?” Jax asks sitting on the bed next to her. Nat shakes her head and shrugs.

“I just don't feel like going,” Jax raises an eyebrow sensing the bullshit. She loves a good party. But lately everything is different.

Jax being in the club and VP not to mention his looks made him popular with the ladies; Crow Eaters, Sweet Butts, the CaraCara girls, Natie always knew that and it used to not bother her but since her and Jax's relationship had changed her feelings had too. As soon as the clubhouse gossip got a whiff that Nat and Jax we're hooking up the Crow Eaters and Sweet Butts, and CaraCara girls fell in line. Jax was no longer on the menu. But Ima doesn't see it that way. She completely disregards Natalie's presence in the room, let alone on earth.

Nat plays her emotions as close to her leather as possible. Shes a hot head, shes fearless, strong and independent, she's outspoken, direct, she's not afraid to get her hands dirty, she’s a good shot. Good with a sword. Good in hand to hand fights. Can and might kill you with a spoon. But when it comes to Jax. She's melted.

“Come on Tali. We're going.”

{1 hour later The Clubhouse}

[3rd POV]

Jax and Nat walk from the bikes and to the first picnic table where Jagger, Ope, Lyla and Jess are sitting.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Jess smiles handing Natalie a beer. Nat smiles as Jax wraps a arm around her shoulders.

“What we miss?” Jax asks as Ope hands him a beer. Nat takes a sip of the cool, bitter liquid.

“Tommy called next with Hap. He's gonna go after someone wipes Jared from Rogue River off the mat floor.” Jagger nods towards the ring. Happy is on one corner of the ring, the guy from Rouge River on the other, beaten to a pulp.

“Christ.” Jax rolls his eyes at his brothers misplaced bravery. Nat watches as Happy and Jared start sparing again.

“Ric, .” Ope nods toward the clubhouse. Jax nods.

“Oh Blake was looking for you, your mom too.” Jess tells Nat taking a sip of her non-alcoholic beverage. Natalie looks down from the fight and to Jess raising an eyebrow.

“I don't know the full story but I do know Blake and Beth got into it over something, then Blake asked if she could stay at our place for a couple days, I told her our house was full because Char and her latest boy toy broke up. So my guess she wants to see if she can stay with you.” Natalie nods.

“I thought Char and Danny were a thing.” Nat says as she sees Char with her tongue down Danny’s throat in a far corner.

“They are but Blake doesn't know that. I got enough drama to deal with at Cara Cara, I don't need Beth-Ann and Blake Grace starting world war 3 in my living room.” Natalie nods understanding her sister-in-law.

“Is that who I think is?” Lyla asks looking toward the right the parking lot. Natalie and Jax look to the gray Ford Truck that just pulled in. A very familiar little brunette and a very familiar man step out.

“Owen.”

That's when Natalie knew she should have stayed home.

[psychdelia]

max showed up on his doorstep with blotchy red cheeks and puffy wet eyes, board discarded on his lawn as she pounded on the door with her free hand, holding a shoebox in the other.

“okay, okay!” steve called out as he rushed downstairs. “i’m coming! jeez.” he huffed as he opened the door, ready to bark out a what, shithead? because who else would show up to his place and pound on his door for a minute straight?

except his mouth snaps shut when he sees her shivering in the winter cold and cheeks still damp. it’s been about 4 months since billy died and he hadn’t seen max in this state for a couple months now. he thought things were getting better.

maybe not.

“max.” he frowned. “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, the panic in his tone increasing with each question.

she just shoved the box into his hands, giving him a determined look. so similar to billy’s. too similar.

“i found this in his room.” he can hear the suppressed tremble in her voice as she fights the urge to cry again. “i never gave it you because i thought maybe,” she frowns, looking down. “maybe he-“ she lets out a shaky breath. “but he never came back so it’s yours now.”

then a switch is flipped and she’s suddenly glaring up at him, yet another expression too similar to billy’s.

“you can’t tell anyone.” she clenches her shaking fists. “if you tell anyone what you find in there i swear to god steve i’ll hurt you.” her upper lip is twitching into a snarl and steve is genuinely scared of this little fiery teenager.

“jesus, max,” he sighs. “first of all, you two are way too goddamn similar for not being blood related.” he ruffles her hair with a free hand. “second of all, you can’t just tell me what’s in here?”

“no.” she shakes her head as she bats his hand away. “just,” she plays with the hem of her jacket nervously. “just keep an open mind.” she frowns. “we’re not from here. things are... different back home.” her shoulders sag a little and he can tell she misses home. misses life before hawkins. “promise you won’t tell anyone?” she looks back up at him.

he frowns as he stares at the box in his hand before nodding. “promise.”

“good.” she nods. she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeve before turning away to walk to the lawn.

“you need a ride?” he calls as she grabs her board. chuckles when she rolls her eyes, tosses back an i can get myself around, steve. then a quick thanks, though. see you around. then she’s taking off.

steve practically sprints up to his room after that. sets this mystery converse box down in front of him on the bed as he sits, unsure of what to expect. maybe porn mags? weed stash? who knows.

so, naturally, he dumps it all out on the bed. stares at the pile of magazines, books, seashells, pictures, papers. the first thing he grabs are the magazines, expecting to see a half naked chick on the cover. he freezes when he finds a half naked man instead, clad in leather.

drummer. drummer. drummer. all of these are the same magazines, different issues with different men. he wonders if they’re targeted towards women, but then he’s opening them up and finding men... with other men. figures maybe hargrove had been holding onto them for someone else because there’s no way in hell these are his. no, no, no. that boy was straight as hell. loved to show off a different girl hanging off his arm every week, made shows of flirting with both girls and women.

but then he’s grabbing a polaroid dated 1983 and it’s billy with shorter hair and fuller cheeks kissing another boy with a big smile and lovesick dopey look on his face.

holy shit. this can’t be real. billy hargrove wasn’t gay. he couldn’t be. he was the womanizer, ladykiller, heartbreaker of hawkins. he loved women and they loved him 10 times more. none of this makes sense.

he grabs the journal next, the leather on the cover worn and threadbare. the first entry is dated from 1983 and the last just a couple weeks before starcourt. right before he got possessed.

steve sets the journal aside, opts to look at the other pictures and items billy had stashed away before he reads about the last three years of the guy’s life. there are a couple pictures of a blonde woman with striking resemblance to billy, the same saint christopher pendant and thick silver ring billy wore present around her neck and finger. some of them feature billy when he was a baby, toddler, kid. he finds jewelry that seems feminine, womanly. figures they must’ve been his mom’s.

there are also some california souvenirs. he finds seashells and movie, concert tickets that read “san diego” on the top. there are also some books steve remembers he was supposed to have read or heard about in school, but also some more he never heard of.

at the very bottom of the box he finds expired makeup and empty hair product. there’s black and dark blue eyeliner and mascara, baby pink lip gloss. nail polish in black, dark red and a deep purple. in some polaroids, the slight sheen of the gloss and his dark, thick lashes are barely visible, but he still catches it.

steve can’t help but chuckle when he finds some candy wrappers and leftover weed grinds at the bottom of the box alongside the butts of joints and empty cigarette packs. marlboro reds. there’s scrunchies, too. shimmery and purple, probably stolen from max.

once’s he’s finished digging through hargrove’s secret belongings, he leans back and sticks his nose in the journal. it takes him the rest of the day and all night to read it from cover to cover.

the beginning is mostly about missing his mom and hating his father, documenting his abuse. there are a few pages about his crushes and boyfriends, allowing him to figure out that the boy he was kissing in the polaroid is named santiago, but billy calls him santi. once he reaches the end of san diego and beginning of hawkins, billy’s tone and messy scrawl is full of hurt, anger, and melancholy.

and then steve’s name pops up. KING STEVE in all caps, taking up nearly half the page. there are hearts around his name, alongside a big drawing of a dick. below, billy writes about feeling like a foolish schoolboy with some stupid crush on some guy with a huge dick he saw in the showers. steve’s already blushing and it only deepens when he gets to the part about billy wanting to feel said dick in his hand, his mouth, inside of him.

he has to take a break after that. doesn’t realize things only get spicier until he gets back to reading and finds out billy’s jerked off and fingered himself open to the thought of none other than king steve. his eyes immediately flick to the half empty jar of vaseline, finger-shaped holes indenting the jelly.

he spends the rest of the night reading about billy’s remorse and guilt towards him and lucas after that night, how billy still wants to hop on his dick and kiss him stupid, his and max’s relationship and how it’s gotten better even though they still blame each other for the move.

it’s both of their faults, steve realizes. billy missed his curfew for a boy and max had no choice but to lead neil to him.

along the way to the end, a couple pictures of steve fall out of the journal. pictures that steve has no idea how billy acquired. some are from school yearbooks, others just random polaroids that might’ve been taken by tommy or carol or jonathan. when he finally reaches the end, he reads about billy’s pool job and plans fo move back to california for college as soon as he graduates.

i know it’s stupid but i’m gonna miss him. his stupid hair and big brown eyes and pretty face and pink lips. i didn’t know anything about the guy but i wish i could drag him out of this shithole and take him home with me. i still haven’t apologized to him. maybe kidnapping him and showing him the ocean would count. but i can’t fall for a straight boy, no matter how big his cock is. i don’t get to fall for someone i hurt. it’s not fair. none of this is fair.

that’s the very last entry. it’s 1am and steve is wide awake. too awake. before he thinks too hard about what he’s doing, he’s shoving everything back into the box and flooring it to robin’s house. he knocks on her window incessantly until she opens it with a glare and he’s pushing his way inside before she can greet him with a snarl.

“billy hargrove was gay and in love with me and-and and jerked off to me and,,, pretended his fingers were mine and his dad was hurting him and his mom left and he was alone, robin.” he’s rambling, eyes wide as he paces the room with the box in his hands.

“he was s-so hurt and alone and no one paid any attention and now he’s dead because of a monster in some town he got dragged to as punishment for being gay and,” his voice cracks. “he’s gone.” he whispers brokenly as he shoves the box into her hands.

robin is very confused and surprised but all she knows is that her best friend is in distress, so she sets the box down and grabs his hands.

“steve. look at me.” she only continues when he does. “sit down and talk to me. let’s go through everything together, okay? just calm down and breathe.”

by 3am robin’s looked through the box and the majority of the journal - steve dog-eared the important pages and she’s a fast reader - and she’s just as shocked as steve, apparently, if her bewildered expression and silence is anything to go by.

“robin? rob, say something.” he urges. “please. i need you to talk to me.”

“holy shit.” she finally raps. “steve, i’m gonna ask you a question and i don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

he nods.

“do you think you could’ve... reciprocated billy’s feelings?”

he opens his mouth to answer but halts, eyes wide and crazy as he stares at her.

“i-“ he gulps. “maybe?” he croaks out. “i-i think so? maybe yeah. yeah.” he nods.

“so you’re bisexual.”

and that’s throwing him on a whole other whirlwind. steve’s had too much thrown at him for the night and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with a sexuality crisis on top of everything.

but billy’s pretty. so fucking beautiful and steve can’t admit it just yet but he wishes he were still here. he wishes he could travel back in time and reach out to billy and save him from the horrors of hawkins but also kiss and fuck and love him properly but now it’s too late and steve and billy have one thing in common.

they’re both alone. lonely. so much love to give but no one to receive or give back.

“bisexual?” he chokes out.

“you like both. boys and girls. like david bowie. and david bowie’s awesome. you’re kinda awesome too, i guess. for a dingus.” she playfully punches his arm and it makes him feel better for all of 2 seconds until it’s hitting him again that the person who wanted to love him is dead. died right in front of him.

“do you have hot chocolate?” she nods. “with marshmallows?” she nods again. “can i have some?”

he feels like he’s about to faint. completely black out. wonders if he looks pale to robin. he needs something warm and comforting and hot coco will do the trick.

———————————

billy comes back in february. hopper and joyce gathered everyone up in joyce’s living room early february. sat everyone down to announce that hop had gotten... a call. a call from some doctor named owens who hop has a history with, the same doctor who helped will.

owens was nursing billy back to health in some secret lab in indianapolis, hence the funeral with no body. apparently billy was in comatose, then a medically induced coma when his brain woke up but he wasn’t strong enough to just yet. then, when he did wake up, he had to relearn how to eat, write, walk in physical therapy, alongside the heavy emotional therapy.

owens hid billy from the world until he was ready to be exposed to it again. then he called hopper one afternoon and told him to come pick the boy up.

max was angry. screamed and yelled until she was reduced to tears in joyce’s arms. the other kids were shocked and confused. didn’t know if they should be happy or scared. will and el were the only positive ones. nancy and jonathan were mostly shocked and indifferent, numb to these crazy surprises the shithole town throws at them. steve and robin just stared at each other knowingly, a million thoughts racing their minds.

a week later they were all in joyce’s living room again, nervously anticipating hopper and billy’s arrival. everyone looked up when the doorknob began to jerk and the lock turned, their eyes trained on the door as it opened to reveal hopper standing beside billy.

billy. clad in a big hoodie, gray sweats and converse. the same ones that were once in the box steve has hidden under his bed. his hair is long now, flowing freely and curling wildly at the ends, looking so soft with the lack of product. he looked tired, fading blue bags under his eyes. he hadn’t lost his tan, steve noted, and looked a little softer around the stomach and legs. for someone who went through all the shit he did, billy looked good. healthy.

max got to him the second he stepped inside, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. he immediately clung to max, holding her tight and whispering a shaky, wet hey, shitbird, only audible to her, resulting in her wet laugh. the siblings stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away to let billy see and greet everyone.

joyce had demanded they all not coddle billy because it would be suffocating and he probably couldn’t deal with that. except now she was serving and feeding him a million things, coddling him just like any other mother would. billy was hesitant and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, especially when he was given cookies.

sweet tooth, steve distantly remembered. billy has a sweet tooth, if the candy wrappers and lollipop sticks in the box were anything to go by.

everyone takes turns greeting and talking to billy. steve’s last in line to have his quick one-on-one with the guy and by the time they’re face to face, everyone’s sitting together, talking and laughing and eating.

“hey,” steve greets with a small smile. he can feel robin’s eyes on him and not-so-slyly flips her the bird, his eyes trained on billy and only billy. “it’s good to have you back.”

“you know you don’t have to say that, harrington, especially if you don’t mean it.” billy tries to joke but his eyes and smile are sad. “i only died for, like, two minutes. not a big deal.”

“shut up, man.” steve rolls his eyes and chuckles. “i do mean it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure there are no eyes on them before he looks back to billy.

then he’s reaching out and grabbing billy’s hand. running his thumbs over the scars along his palm and knuckles. he looks up to find billy confused and blushing. he smiles before pulling billy into a tight hug.

“you look good. so good.” steve whispers in his ear, getting a whiff of generic coconut shampoo. he has one arm wrapped tight around billy’s waist, holding him close with their bodies flush. he slides his free hand down and rests it on billy’s ass, barely squeezing. he chuckles when billy jumps a little.

“harrington.” billy chokes out, voice wrecked. “what’s your hand doing on my ass?” steve can feel billy’s lips moving on his neck and it makes him shudder.

“just doing what i should’ve done a while ago.” he sighs, content, just holding billy’s warm, very much alive body close to his.

“if you wanted to get in my pants, pretty boy, all you had to do was ask.” billy flirts with a smirk steve can feel on his neck. then he pauses. “you’re not fucking with me?” he asks, tone serious.

“nuh uh.” steve shakes his head. “actually, uh,” he pulls away just enough to meet billy’s eyes. “max gave me your shoebox.” he watches as billy’s eyes widen and go fiery. “hey, no, don’t get mad at her. it’s not her fault. she didn’t know you were comms back.” steve reasons. “plus, now i know big bad heartbreaker billy hargrove has a crush on little ole me.”

“who says i still do?” billy raises his eyebrows, as if his hands aren’t tightly holding onto steve’s shoulders and he’s not blushing and making heart eyes at the guy.

steve’s not too bright, but he knows when people have a crush on him. he’s always been bright in the language of love. and sex, for that matter, as billy will eventually find out when he inevitably get lovingly and romantically railed and fucked into steve’s mattress later that week.

“just have a feeling.” he shrugs, giving billy’s ass one last squeeze before he rests his hands on his hips with a grin.

[mrs-hatake]

why’d you only call me when you’re high

A/N: this spur of the moment fanfic is loosely based on a tiktok video by dabisjuicycums0ckk. enjoy!

p.s, i’m not sure who the owner of the gif is so if you do know please lmk and i’ll credit them!

also, a HUGE thanks to @runeterrankhaleesi​ for proof reading this fic for me!

The persistent vibration from your phone under your pillow disrupted your sleep.

Groaning, you flipped onto your side and pulled the blanket further above your head, hoping it would somehow block the vibration of your phone and allowing you to return to sleep.

Seconds later, the vibration stopped and you sighed in relief. Just as you were about to fall back into sleep, your phone vibrated again but this time, the action was small. This meant you had a message. Whatever, the person who was texting you at this ungodly hour can wait till the morning when you were awake and had plenty of sleep.

Your phone vibrates not five minutes later. Annoyed and the last bits of sleep had all but disappeared, you propped yourself on your elbow while your other hand searched for your phone under the pillow. Once you’ve come in contact with the rubber material of your phone case, you pulled your phone out and tapped on the screen.

Squinting at the harsh brightness of your phone, you waited until your eyes adjusted to the screen before blinking down at the notifications.

5 Missed calls from Dabi

The first notification had read.

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it and read the notification above it.

Answer your phone

Right now

Your breathing had become shallow and your heart quickened. Dabi was pissed. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Dabi it’s that he does not like to be kept waiting. And, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his fury, you heaved a heavy sigh and called him back. Noticing that it was just a few minutes past three in the morning.

“Took you long enough.” His rough voice greeted you after two rings. “Why didn’t you answer?”

Rolling your eyes, you calmly replied, “I was sleeping.” You hoped that your groggy voice would somehow inform him that you were too tired to do whatever shit he wanted.

“Well, too bad.” Dabi scoffed. “I need to see you.”

Your relationship with Dabi was an odd one.

The two of you have met about a year and a half now after you had encountered the scarred man near the piers one misty, Monday morning. You had been near the piers to meet with one of the loan sharks you had borrowed money from to extend the payment deadline. You never wanted to be associated with such people, but unfortunately, being a teacher doesn’t pay enough. Even though you worked at a prestigious school for up and coming young heroes, your income from that school couldn’t help pay the amount for your mother’s heart surgery. The bank would take too long. They’d have to take up your request to a committee to determine if they could lend you the money based on your yearly salary and how long it takes for you to pay them back. That could take months, maybe even years and you didn’t have time to wait. You were desperate and your mother was in a critical condition- she could die at any moment.

Searching through the dark web, you managed to find a loan shark that was highly respected by people who were in similar positions like you. If you could go back in time, you would’ve stopped yourself from borrowing money from them and wait for the bank’s approval. It’s too late now and what’s done is done. You just hoped that the school wouldn��t find out about this and risk losing your job.

You still trembled in fear whenever you remembered the goon asking you if you had their money. You could vividly hear the slight lisp in his words and could almost smell the scent of his cigar. “You got our money?” He asked in greeting.

Pulling your jacket closer to your body to protect you from the harsh and cold weather, you shook your head at them, “I would like an extension please. I’m close to paying you back. I just need more time.” You pleaded with wide and hopeful eyes. You knew that these people weren’t nice. You knew they’d kill anyone who wouldn’t pay them back. Still, it won’t hurt to ask. Right?

Wrong.

With a snap of the man’s fingers, a foot kicked the back of your knees causing you to fall harshly on the wet ground with a painful wail.

“What the fuck?!” You cried as you held your leg that was throbbing in pain. You let out a hiss as fingers dug themselves into your hair and gave a rough tug, pulling your head up to face the man with the cigar. “I said I’ll pay you back!”

The man let out a chuckle, “Sorry, babycakes. Boss doesn’t like to wait. If you don’t have his money by tonight…” He didn't finish his sentence for you to understand that these people were willing to kill you.

“I can’t save two million yen in one day!”

The man simply shrugged, as if to say, ‘Not my problem.’ “You can rob a bank for all I care.”

“You’re insane!”

The man’s expression darkened and he nodded at the man still clutching your hair tightly. Before you could process what else was going on, the man’s foot came into contact to your side. You couldn’t even scream as the man continued to kick you repeatedly.

Never in your life had you wished you had a quirk than you did at that moment. Curse your quirkless nature and curse the fact that you were only a home room teacher who taught quirk theoretics. If only you had one of your students' quirks, you would’ve fought back and escaped.

Suddenly, you felt an immense wave of heat and heard horrifying screams from above you. The man suddenly let go of your hair, screaming in pain, as the blue flames enveloped him, eating his skin and burning him. Then, he collapsed, his body on the ground still lit ablaze by the inferno. Your breath hitched at the sight.

Turning to your right, you saw a young man dressed in a long leather jacket with a crazed look in his eyes as he turned to face the man with the cigar, a wave of blue fire came from his palm and surged towards the man, ending his life instantly.

The smell of charred skin wafted your nose and you quickly vomited at the disgusting smell of burning flesh.

Once you’ve calmed down, you wiped your lips with the back of your hand and glanced up at the deranged man looking down on you. “What have you done?” Your voice was shaky and your breathing was shallow.

This was bad. The two men you owed money to were dead. There was no way their boss wouldn’t find out about this. They’ll come for you and for that man with a fire quirk. And when you voiced your thoughts, the man just smirked. “I’d like to see them try.”

The glare in your eyes did nothing to diminish his amusement, “I can’t protect myself.” You spat at him.

He blinked lazily at you, his sapphire eyes glowing brightly. “Let’s make a deal. I offer my services to protect you-”

“I’m not going to pay you to protect me.” You interrupted him.

“Wasn’t asking for money.”

“Then what do you want.”

For the second time in your life, you wished you could go back in time to stop yourself from making stupid decisions.

Ever since that day, you’ve become Dabi’s sexual partner.

The two of you didn’t meet often, maybe once or twice every other month before parting ways and never having to see each other until Dabi needed you again.

Things were difficult at first. You had refused the man, almost laughing at the proposition. Dabi, however, had managed to convince you.

“You’ll die.” He had said.

And before you could say anything like I work at U.A, I have other people who can protect me. You remembered that the reason you were in this mess was because you had approached the loan sharks, borrowed money from them and had his goons killed. If the school found out...

The first night Dabi had called you was a week after the two of you had met. He had sent you the location to some cheap motel hidden deep within the city. Somewhere far from respectable neighborhoods and a place where no teacher such as yourself should be in.

Sex with Dabi was...an experience.

Dabi had a strict “Don’t ask, don’t talk” policy. You come, you get naked and you had sex. That’s it. He wouldn’t even offer to clean you up after sex- not that you were expecting him to, but he didn’t even bother cleaning up after himself either. Opted to wipe his dick clean with tissues before pulling his trousers back up and escaping through the motel window. Leaving the check-out procedure to you.

Somewhere down the road, things had shifted between the two of you. He’d call you more often. Your late night encounters becoming weekly rather every other month. His “Don’t ask, Don’t talk policy” had changed to “I ask, You answer”. And, instead of meeting at some shady motels, he’d spend the night with you. That happened when you had received a threatening letter which you instantly knew was from the loan sharks. The fact that they knew where you lived frightened you and the first thing that you did was call Dabi.

The first night Dabi spent in your apartment, he had scanned the entire place to make sure they didn’t bug you.

He had stood by the window, hidden by the thin material of your curtain, to keep an eye out for any suspicious-looking people.

Sleep didn’t come easy for you. Your head jerked whenever you closed your eyes for a couple of minutes. Images of Dabi lying dead on the ground with his blood staining your bedroom floor flashing before you.

“Hey.”

It took you a second to register that Dabi was sitting on the edge of your bed, his fingers tracing your leg that was hidden under the blanket, “You should sleep.” He whispered.

“I’m trying.” You mumbled in exhaustion. You could hear the concern in your colleagues’ voice the next morning when they asked about your well-being.

“They’re not going to hurt you.” His fingers were drawing random patterns on your leg, “I won’t let them.”

The softness of his voice and the way his fingers gliding up against your leg had managed to lull you to sleep.

This happened every night and on the tenth night Dabi had spent with you, you discovered that the man would stay up late, ensuring your safety, before leaving just before your alarm rang for work.

You had discovered this when you had woken up one night wanting to drink a glass of water found Dabi still sitting on the edge of your bed, his hand holding your ankle securely. The gesture did things to you; things you couldn’t understand. Not wanting to disturb the rare moment of vulnerability, you willed yourself back to sleep.

Even after Dabi had killed the man who was after you, Dabi didn’t stop his services. He no longer protected you, however, he still called you whenever he needed you to help relieve some of his tension. And somewhere along the road, you started developing feelings towards him.

Your newfound attachments crept up to you slowly.

There was a period of time where Dabi didn’t call you; didn’t seek for you in the late hours of the night. And your messages asking about his well-being went unanswered.

Don’t ask, don’t talk.

You craved his rough touches.

His deep voice calling your name and whispering filthy things in your ear that you knew you should be ashamed instead of feeling turned on.

The way he’d grunt and moan, his fingers holding onto your hips so tightly that you’d often wake up the next day with bruises.

“Y/N? Y/N?” The sound of Dabi calling your name brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You cleared your throat and inwardly cursed the fact that you were fully awake and had no intentions of going back to sleep. “What were you saying?”

“Open the window, I’m outside.”

To say that you were surprised that Dabi was outside of your window was understatement. He didn’t like to be kept waiting so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Dabi was already outside waiting for you. You wouldn’t put past him if he had been outside your window the second he started calling you.

After ending the call, you unlocked your window to let Dabi in and returned to sit on the edge of your bed.

Dabi had sauntered his way in, standing the middle of your bedroom, as if he owned the place- as if he owned you.

It pained you to see Dabi in all of his glory.

After not seeing him for months and worrying about him all that time, he texted you after so long, only for his selfish desires. Your messages of asking about his whereabouts and if things were alright were left unanswered.

It killed you that he ignored you like that, kept you in the dark while he was gallivant somewhere doing God knows what, while you worried over him that even the other teachers had taken notice of the dark and deep circles appearing under your eyes.

Truly, it was unfair.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He asked with a sly smirk on his charred lips, “You’re normally so eager to see me.” And crept his way towards your bed and placed both of his scarred hands on either sides of your thighs, trapping you.

He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against your neck and took a deep inhale, his eyes closing at your addicting scent. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and we’ll see if daddy can fix it?”

You lifted your hands upwards and rested upon his shoulders and pushed him away in annoyance.

But Dabi didn’t budge as his hands still caged you securely. Removing one of his hands from your bed, he cupped your cheeks and roughly caressed your soft skin. He had a glint in his sapphire eyes which reminded you of just how dangerous he truly was.

Slowly, as if to not frighten his prey away, Dabi leaned in and roughly kissed you.

Despite the kiss being languid, it was sloppy. Drool dripped down your chin as Dabi’s hand trailed from your cheek to your neck and squeezed. Dabi took advantage of your gasp and shoved his tongue all the way in. The metal ball of his piercing felt cold against the roof of your mouth.

It didn’t take you long to give in and ease into the kiss, shoulders sagging in relaxation as his one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Dabi tilted his head and deepened the kiss in a certain way that made your eyes roll backwards in delight. It was an invitation for you to bury your fingers deep in his thick tuft of hair, roughly tugging at the dyed locks.

All too soon, Dabi broke the kiss and you almost whined at the loss until you felt his scarred lips attached themselves to your neck. His hand trailed up your neck then to your cheek and titled your chin upwards to have better access.

His kisses were fervent.

His tongue lapped at your neck and you shivered at the way his tongue piercing felt against your skin. The cold metal rapidly cooled your warm skin.

A broken moan fell from your lips as he bit your neck. Chuckling, he reattached his mouth to your neck and sucked with all of his might. Once he was satisfied, he darted his tongue and licked a long stripe upwards until his lips found yours again.

His tongue against yours.

His hand squeezing your neck.

The heat between your legs.

It was all too much for you to handle.

You’ve missed Dabi so much.

Missed the way he looked at you with mischief in his eyes before he would touch you. Missed the way he would grunt your name in your ear when he was close to coming undone. But most of all, you had missed how good Dabi made you feel. A soft whimper fell from your lips when you felt a single tear roll down your cheek and make its way into the kiss. A single tear turned to two. Then three. Until they became so many that you lost track of them.

The kiss turned bitter as you remembered the suffocating loneliness you had felt the past couple of months when Dabi had ignored you. How you would clutch onto your phone and stare at your screen, waiting for Dabi to text or call you. At how it was arduous for you to fall asleep, disquiet over Dabi’s well-being.

The hand on your neck trailed to the back of your head and gripped on the locks of hair on the nape of your neck and pulled your head backwards. “What’s this?” Dabi asked, breaking the kiss.

Your cheeks glistened with tears still falling.

Dabi was staring down at you in disappointment. You felt ashamed and turned your head to look away from those alluring blue eyes. But the hand on your chin prevented  you from doing so.

“You really went and did it, didn’t you.” Dabi sighed in despondency, his fingers tapping your cheeks. “You really want to give me your little heart. That’s cute~”

He cupped your chin harshly and forced you to stare in his blue eyes that danced wildly just like his flames. “But it’s not something that I want.”

“What about what I want?” You whispered, ignoring the way Dabi’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

Dabi said nothing and instead, leaned in and kissed your lips again in a harsh kiss. And you allowed him to take control. To have his way with you and do whatever pleased him. Because the look of disappointment he had displayed earlier was unbearable.

Dissatisfying Dabi was far more important than what you wanted- what you needed from the wanted criminal. The last thing you wanted was for him to end whatever it was going on between you.

So you let him ruin you, taint you and make you cry in pleasure and dejection. Your moans were desperate, begging and pleading for him; For his touches, his kisses and for his name to fall from his lips.

And when he was done with you, his needs fulfilled and his thirst quenched, he silently left through the window just as the sun began to peak its way through the horizon.

When you step into your office the next day, your colleague Aizawa was there to silently greet you with a warm cup of coffee as always. Whether he had noticed the puffiness of your eyes and the red tint at the corner from all those hours of crying, he said nothing and you didn’t care.

Aizawa quietly watched as you lifelessly stared down at your phone. It was a known fact that Aizawa was the least sociable person in school, if not the whole world. So, going out of his way to interact with people was out of the question. Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your small talk. Which is why he noticed the gradual shift in you.

The way you’d arrive in school with smiles and eyes twinkling brighter than the stars at night- How those stars slowly dimmed and died out one autumn evening, those orbs never leaving the phone in your hand. The way you’d tap on the screen to see if you had a new message or an incoming call.

It was difficult for him to not notice those dark circles under your eyes, darker and more prominent than his own. He wanted to reach out to you, to ask if you were alright but the emptiness in your eyes had him hesitating. He had never seen you so lifeless, so vulnerable. Just as he opened his mouth to ask you the question that was eating him alive- to know what had you so depressed, the first bell rang and he watched as you dragged yourself to your first class.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

No Strings Attached

Summary - Some words are better remained unspoken but not always. Sometimes it better to just confess.

Pairing - Jensen x Reader, past Jensen x OFC Sarah

Warning - Fluff, angst-ish, secret relationship, smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (female receiving), swearing, insecurities, mentions of betrayal.

Word Count - 3178

Square Filled - Rockstar!Jensen ( @spndeanbingo ); Confessions ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - This is written for my challenge "Chan's 500 followers challenge".

Request by @deanwanddamons - Hey hon! Huge congratulations on 500 followers! You deserve it 💞 Could you write ‘3. How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?’ Jensen and Y/N 😘 (Hope you like it and sorry it got so long)

Beta'd by the lovely @miss-nerd95​ (she is such a sweetheart! Thank you so much)

The beautiful spn dividers by @talesmaniac89

I love the Ackles fam, but for the sake of this fic, Jensen is single and was never married to Danneel.

Your eyes were focused on the man on stage, heart beating loudly as you watched his every movement the way his thick fingers were wrapped around the mic, that little smirk on his face as he sang along to the Eric Church’s song. Your head full of thoughts about what his fingers and mouth could do to you.

“Damn you, really turn me on, paintin' your toenails pink.” He sent you a sideway glance, giving you a knowing smile as he sang the lines. His tongue peeked out of his mouth as it swept over his lips, his action so casual yet it sent the audience into a frenzy. The song enriched by his voice was enough to make you squirm and the memories from last night were not helping you at all.

You should have seen this coming ever since the moment you had stepped into the green room that day, right before the Saturday Night Live. You had smirked to yourself when you saw Jensen's eyes slightly widening at the sight of you in the tight little skirt that you had paired with a see-through button down and matching bra, as you had walked up to him with a glass of wine in your hand.

A blush had crept up your neck when you had felt his eyes all over your body. You had taken a seat right beside him, just to rile him up a bit more. You knew he couldn't even kiss you because no one in the cast knew about your hidden rendezvous. You had furtively glanced at the actor beside you. With one brow raised slightly, Jensen was staring right at you.

“You want to go out there?” You jumped at Richard’s voice, pulling you out from your sinful thoughts. “I know you can sing.”

“You sure? Jensen has set the stage on fire. I don't think I have enough fuel to match that level.” You chuckled, looking out towards the stage as the said man wrapped an arm around Rob’s shoulder, jamming out to the music of the guitar. You hadn't even noticed when he had switched to another song because you were too busy staring at how his biceps flexed under his black shirt with every small movement of his arm. A puff of air left your mouth as he hit a high note in the song.

“Trust me, he will definitely not mind.” Richard winked.

“Um-thanks Speight, but I'd rather stay here and enjoy the show.” You politely declined Richard’s request. Tonight, the stage was a dangerous arena.

You took in a sharp breath as the last notes of the song strung in the air, the crowd erupting into a loud cheer as Rob struck the last chord on his guitar. “Thank you!” Jensen gave a dramatic bow, waving his hands in the air as he was exiting the stage which caused an uproar in the room. Handing over the mic to Rob, the actor left the stage.

“Enjoyed the show, sweetheart?” A smug smile tugged on his lips as he stalked towards you, the look on his face making you go weak in the knees.

“You put on quite a show out there.” You said, placing a hand on his chest.

“What can I say? I am a good performer. There is nothing better than seeing the audience satisfied,” Jensen replied and leaned towards you, bringing his mouth near your ear. “And then leave them begging for more.” Your heart was beating wildly making you gasp as his teeth grazed past your earlobe, a shiver running down your body to your core.

“Jackles!” Jared’s booming voice made you two jump apart. “We are going out for drinks, wanna join?”

“Yeah! Go ahead, I'll...uh-catch up. Y/N’s coming with me too.”

“Uh-okay!” Jared hesitated a bit before he rejoined the awfully jolly group of actors, making their way towards the bar a few blocks away from the convention.

“Ackles, anyone caught your eye yet?” Jared questioned his tv brother, which piqued your interest.

“So, I'm picking up random girls from the bar now to get my dick wet? Jare-” Jensen looked at his best friend with a look of pure disgust in his eyes.

“Jensen, that's not what I-”

“Now, don't start with your relationship crap. You know I don't do relationships anymore.” It wasn't like you didn't expect him to say this, but deep down it still hurt to hear him say that there was no one special in his life. You tuned out the rest of his words as you reminisced about your first night together.

The relationship between you and Jensen was complicated. A few months ago, you had hooked up in his Vancouver apartment after a drunken night and that had started the whole friends with benefit thing. No one knew that you two were sleeping together. It was something you two had decided to keep between yourselves because it wasn't like you were in a relationship, you two just fucked to relieve some tension. Or so you thought. You didn't even realise when you had fallen head over heels for the man but you had managed to keep your mouth shut.

Your eyes roamed around the room until it landed on Jensen to see him staring intently at you. An involuntary shiver ran down your body under his strong gaze. You left your seat and went to sit beside him at which he was taken by surprise.

“Miss me already?” He smirked, an eyebrow raised at you.

“Don’t shave.” You said.

“That doesn't answer my que-” the words got stuck in his throat as you placed your hand on his thigh. Jensen stiffened under your touch but thankfully the action went unnoticed by everyone else.

“What d'you think you're doin’?” He asked, his southern accent slipping through.

“Nothing.” You smirked as you hand travelled upwards towards his crotch but no one could see your little teasing session underneath the table. Jensen swallowed thickly as he fidgeted in his seat, trying to adjust his pants and to remove your hand but you were adamant. You coyly palmed his growing excitement as he sucked in a breath.

“Don't challenge me, Y/N/N.” He growled into your ear, your own panties were now ruined. “I can take you right here, right now. You want me to do that, to teach you a lesson for being a bad girl?”

“Where's your self control, Ackles?” You mocked.

Without answering your question, he suddenly stood up. “Y/N’s not feeling so hot. I think it's best if she goes back to the hotel.” Jensen told the cast. You licked your lips when you saw his dominant side jumping out.

“What ‘bout ya?” Jared drunkenly asked.

“She is in the room right beside me and it's too late. I'm going back to the hotel with her. I'm just being a gentleman.” Jensen said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Everyone said their goodbyes and if anyone suspected anything, they didn't speak up.

A few minutes after leaving the bar, Clif pulled up in front of the bar. You and Jensen slipped into the backseat. That fifteen minutes drive felt like the longest time you had ever been in a car. The tension was so thick between, it could have been cut with a knife. Jensen did his best to restrain himself, so much so he barely looked at you because even Clif wasn't in on your little secret and you wanted to keep it that way.

You had barely closed the door before you felt Jensen’s hands all over your body. He abandoned his leather jacket before pushing you against the wall.

“I wanted to rip off your clothes the moment you walked into the room.” He murmured as he pinned you to the wall, kissing you roughly. “Do you have any idea how hard you made me tonight? Huh?” He breathed into the skin of your neck, making you whimper.

“Jay-uh, you were a t-tease as well. You sang that song tonight o-on purpose.” You breathed out. A gasp left your lips when Jensen hungrily ripped off your shirt and skirt leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. You hooked your legs behind his back as he effortlessly picked you up and took you to the bed, putting you down before he climbed on top of you. Impatiently, you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt at which Jensen smirked and pulled the shirt over his head before throwing it on the floor. You took in the perfectly toned muscles of his chest and stomach like you were seeing him naked for the very first time, which of course wasn't, when he put a finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

“Like what you see?” He smirked as your hands travelled up to feel his hard pecs. Jensen grabbed your hand and moved them away from his chest as he leaned down to leave a trail of kisses down your body. You shuddered when his mouth found the sweet spot on your neck. He swiftly removed your bra, leaving only in your lacy panties. “You are so beautiful.” He murmured as he took in your naked form.

There wasn't a single part of your body that he didn't touch. His hands travelled all over your body, squeezing and pinching your skin as they moved until finally stopped on your breasts, kneading and massaging them.

“Jay-” you moaned as he continued to nibble at your sensitive skin. His mouth left your neck before latching onto your right nipple, his tongue flicking the bud making you cry out his name. “Oh fuck,” you whimpered as his fingers worked on your other nipple. You could feel him smirking before his mouth released you from its assault, pressing a kiss on the valley of your chest before moving south.

“Fuck baby, you're so wet. Where's your self control?” Jensen grunted when his hand brushed your damp panties before making a quick job of pulling them off you. He left kisses along the inside of both your thighs before you felt his hot breath fanning against where you needed him the most. He pressed a kiss on your aching pussy as you moaned for the hundredth time that night.

“Mhm, you always taste so good.” He growled against your pussy, the vibration of his voice making you shiver in anticipation. He started licking your clit slowly but then he picked up his pace as his tongue worked overtime. Your hands moved downwards, your fingers entangling with his hair. Jensen’s scruff scratched against your thigh, giving you a sweet, burning sensation which you knew would stay as a reminder of his unholy ministrations. His mouth and tongue continued to give you pleasure as the latter went in deep, hungrily eating you out.

“Fuck Jensen!” You exclaimed when you felt the pressure build up. You pulled at his scalp, making him groan against your pussy before he put a finger in you, at which you whimpered. He pumped in twice before adding another, successfully stretching you open.

“Shit!” Your back arched with pleasure as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. The coil inside you tightened as he kept pumping his fingers.

“Fuck! Fuck Jay!” You mewled as you came on his fingers. He pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, while you tried to steady your breathing. Giving you a quick kiss, he pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his hardened length making you lick your lips at the sight. He took his cock and ran his hand up and down the shaft, the tip of his cock beaded with precum.

“Jensen.” You croaked.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His deep voice growled as he sat there in all his naked glory.

“I-hm, I want you inside me.” Jensen quickly obliged as he lined himself with your entrance. Your mouth both sucked in a breath when he slipped his cock into you.

“You need to move.” He almost pulled out, leaving only his tip inside you before pushing all of him back in again. You buckled up your hips to match with his thrusts, making him groan. Your pussy clenched around him as the knot in your stomach tightened once again.

“Fuck Y/N!” He growled as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“I am gonna-Jay!” your back arched as the coil in your stomach snapped and you felt yourself coming undone for the second time that night. Jensen thrusted a few more times before he spilled his seed inside you, coating your walls. “Shit Y/N!” He panted as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Pressing his lips on yours, he pulled out of you and rolled over, both of you panting hard, as you came down from your high before he got up to get a piece of cloth to clean you both up.

You were lying in his arms, basking in the post-coital bliss, both of you still in an euphoric state when those fateful words were muttered. “I think I'm in love with you.” The sentence slipped out before you could have stopped yourself and that's when you felt him beside you stiffen up.

“I thought we agreed this thing to be no-strings attached.” He said, his voice hard as rock as he spat the words out, making you wince at the sheer intensity of disgust in those ten little words.

“I-I thought, I'm sorry. I know what I got myself into,” you scoffed, “How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?” You left the soft hotel bed, wrapping yourself with the white sheet to cover your modesty and self-respect or what was left of it.

“Where are you going?” Jensen asked as he watched you pick up the pieces of your clothing strewn about the room, putting them back on as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

‘Was that concern in his voice?’ You wondered but you decided not to voice your thoughts instead you retorted, “No-strings attached, remember? I am going back to my room.” And that was the last thing you said before you left hurriedly.

Closing the door behind you, you burst into tears. You almost ran back into your room because you didn't want to be seen by anyone and read some nasty headline on the celebrity gossip page the next day.

You didn't know how long you cried, lying there in your bed as you blamed yourself for completely messing up a good relationship. Wait, why were you even calling your arrangement a relationship?

That man didn't do relationships. How could you be so stupid to say those words to him? Maybe deep down inside, you had hoped that Jensen felt the same about you but after tonight all your hopes had been turned to dust. You laid motionless in your bed with tears streaming down your cheeks until two short knocks on your door interrupted your pity party.

A sense of fear seeped into you. Did someone see you in the hallway? You wondered. Gathering up a bit of courage you opened the door to find the man you least expected to show up on the other side.

“Wha-” Jensen barged into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Sarah, my last girlfriend she-I loved her, God did I love her but she took advantage and stabbed me in the back, left me there in the pool of my own blood.” He let out a shaky breath.

You still remembered that night in the trailer clearly. You and Jensen were still getting to know each other and you had never seen him have a breakdown like that. Sarah had used Jensen's name to get further in the industry and used his money but then she had owned up to never loving him and cheating on him with another man. Thomas was sick so Jared had to leave immediately while you had stayed with him that night in the trailer because you knew if you left him alone, he would have drowned himself in alcohol.

“I swore off dating, then you came along. After our first night in my Vancouver apartment, I didn't want to let you go. You were also healing from your last breakup and we both needed something to release the tension so I asked you to be my friend with benefits.”

“Jay-”

“Let me complete because I owe you an explanation and I'm here to give you one. All this time I was thinking that my feelings towards you were not romantic because I was scared to fall in love again until tonight when I watched you storm out of my room. I realised that I was lying to everyone including myself and I don't think I can live with that. ” You searched his face to find any sort of pity or a lie but all you saw were eyes filled with adoration for you. “Now I know I'm an idiot and I have royally fucked everything up but I think I'm ready to take a leap and I don’t want anyone but you by my side.”

You didn't even know when you had started crying. Jensen came closer to you, cupping your face, he whispered, “I want you, all strings attached.”

“Am I really the person you want?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” A look of confusion descended on his face.

“Okay. I can give us a chance but I need you to be all in. I want you with all your strings attached as well.” You said, your lips curling up to form a soft smile.

“I am all in.” He said and leaned in, capturing your lips with his. Your one hand moved to the back of his neck and another gripped his bicep to ground yourself. It was a soft kiss filled with love and new promises.

“I do have one condition.” You said after breaking the kiss.

“I agree.” Jensen said, pecking your lips.

“You didn't even hear it.”

“I don't have to. I agree with it.” He smiled.

“Well then, no sex for one month.” You smirked as you Jensen's mouth fell open.

“One month?”

“You already agreed to it.” You giggled when he pouted at you. “Oh don't make that face. You have two hands, use them.”

“What about kissing?”

“I think I can allow kissing.” You chuckled making him sigh in relief.

“I love you and I'm a dumbass for not realising it before.” Your heart swelled in your chest as you heard him say those words back. “And I think Jared is going to earn some betting money in the morning when we walk into the room hand in hand.”

“We are telling everyone about us? So no secret meetings?”

“No secret meetings. I will shout it from the rooftops that you're mine because like I told you, I want you with all the strings attached.”

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[speechlessxx]

Mailing Back The Memories

(Chris Evans x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader reminisces on what was…  

Warnings: self-serve fic, breakup, emotions, slight nudity (but SFW)

Word Count: 2.6k

I hope you guys enjoy!

Your newly purchased bed – that was a full instead of the queen that you grew accustomed to sleeping in – felt too big. Your apartment felt emptier now that his things had been packed up into boxes (that you put off mailing). You never realized how much of his things essentially became yours when he left them behind. He’d always say “keep ‘em, what’s mine is yours” when you brought them up.

You remembered when you came home to your apartment for the first time without him. His jacket that was hung on a kitchen chair welcomed you. Photographs framed were hung on the wall. Polaroids strung through twine like the Pinterest posts you copied. Your cabinets and fridge stored his favorite foods and snacks – that soon became your favorites when your relationship transformed from a fling to a promising future. Even your queen-sized mattress had a Chris-sized impression.

For the first few months, you wallowed in your sorrows. No one could blame you. The relationship was strong, healthy. Neither you nor Chris brought in any toxic traits that nipped at your bond as time went on. Your bond was strong and it felt unbreakable. Communication was effective. Emotions were pure. The intention was to end up at the altar although the question was never officially asked – but everyone knew that’s where you both wanted to go with each other.

None of your friends or family wanted to ask about what led to the relationship’s demise. They were curious, but no one wanted to pry. It wasn’t their business after all. Of course, there were assumptions, but no one truly believed infidelity or toxicity was the cause of the breakup. You and Chris loved each other – anyone could tell just by the way you both would look at one another.

But in truth, every good thing comes to an end. The phone calls became shorter. The getaways were always interrupted. The prying eye of the public wasn’t an issue in your relationship’s earlier days, but when they poked and prodded at your insecurities, it just became too much. When the “I love you”’s felt clipped and forced, you both had to admit something was off. The fire that glowed bright between you slowly faded. And as much as both of you tried to reignite it, the damage was done. And like perfect matches, the relationship had burned out.

It hurt to live in your own apartment, to be surrounded by the memories – his clothes in your dresser and closet, his cologne in your sheets. Hell, even your body didn’t feel like yours. You could still feel his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Your heart still called out his name on those lonely nights.

But eventually, you found the courage or a faux sense of it – whatever could get you by. With shaky hands, you cleaned up your apartment. You scrubbed at the tiles of the bathroom until they gleamed. You wiped down the wooden floors until they sparkled in the sunlight. You took out the photos in the frames that reminded you of a happier time. The frames were now empty, hanging pictureless on your walls. The twine of Polaroids was taken down completely. The snapshots stored away in a shoebox under the bed. You bought a new mattress – telling yourself you were due for a new one anyway. You opted for a smaller bed, so that it wouldn’t feel as empty (not that it worked. You still felt alone).

You even packed everything that was his into those boxes that sat dauntingly in the corner of your apartment. And although you could fake the confidence – you could tell your friends and family you were doing fine, you could post on Instagram and tweet about new beginnings – you just couldn’t mail back the memories.

It felt like you were closing the door on Chris forever by giving back the pieces of him that you still had.

Like his Red Sox baseball cap –

You laughed and gently slapped the visor of the cap down after Chris made an attempt at a stupid joke. “Hey, hey! Watch it I’m driving!” He retaliated, letting go of your hand to fix the hat. “I’ve already got speeding tickets to pay off. I can’t get into an accident, especially with you in the car.”

You reached over and took his hand in yours, fiddling with his fingers. “You know the hat is a really stupid disguise, right?” You asked. You had the urge to flip the cap off just to annoy him but decided against it, knowing he’d overreact.

“That’s why I’ve got sunglasses,” he said.

“That you don’t wear?”

“There’s no sun.” He clicked his tongue. “I could get you the same hat. We can match!”

You scoffed. “I prefer the Yankees.” You honestly didn’t. You just liked to push his buttons.

He gasped with mock offense. “I think I should just pull over and tell you to walk home.”  He pushed your hand away. You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join your hysterics.

Chris looked over at you. The moonlight was hitting you in a way that made your skin gleam. Your head was thrown back as you laughed, and your eyes squinted from your smiles. You didn’t realize he was still staring at you when you had calmed down. You looked forward and gasped. “Chris, red light!”

His head snapped back towards the road as he passed up the streetlight that glowed the angry color. Thankfully, there were no cars or pedestrians. No one but you and Chris (and maybe the street camera) witnessed it.

“I’m gonna pretend you never said that because I love you.” He told you.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t run the red because I love you … and the Yankees.”

“Ignoring you.”

Or the Montblanc timepiece you bought him for his birthday that he left the very last time he was over –

“You didn’t have to!” He shook his head as he stared down at the watch in awe. “Seriously, babe!”

“No, no! I wanted to get this for you!” You beamed and kissed his cheek.

It was a simple watch. A chestnut brown leather band with gold hardware. It was simple, versatile. Something he could wear on his day to day or for formal events.

“Look on the back!” You urged as he unboxed the watch.

He shook his head and gave you a look of disbelief. He wasn’t into overly flashy things and he didn’t like to put down thousands of dollars on material goods – like a watch. (He owned the same sweatshirt in 2 different colors). Chris loved to spoil his loved ones – he loved to spoil you – but he didn’t know how to react when the tables were turned and he was on the receiving end of expensive gifts.

On the back of the watch, was a small engraving. The man at the store told you that they didn’t do message engravings – “only names and initials,” he told you – but you insisted even when he said that the message would barely be seen.

I love you forever and a day.

It was a stupid, cheesy saying that Chris drunkenly confessed to you one night over the phone back when you two were barely serious. As the relationship heated up, it became a catchphrase, sometimes an apology, a promise. Words that meant the world to both of you.

He began to tear up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Chris, baby, noo! Don’t cry!” You pleaded. “I didn’t think you’d cry!”

He put down the watch and turned his body towards you so that he can engulf you in his arms. You felt wet tears on the skin of your neck where his head took shelter in. You shushed him and robbed the back of his head, soothingly as he cried. You loved how emotional Chris was. He was never afraid to be vulnerable in front of you.

“I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you, baby… Forever and a day.”

Or the painting of you he painted which you had hung over your bed –

“Stay still, (Y/N)!” Chris scolded.

You groaned. “I’ve been posing for the last 2 hours. Are you done, yet?”

“Painting takes time.” He told you. “Stay where you are!”

“The sun’s going down, Christopher.”

Chris had mentioned that he wanted to be a painter when he was younger. You teasingly asked if he was any good – you knew he was (he was good at almost everything). Of course, he never backed down from a challenge.

You regretted saying yes to becoming his personal art model. You didn’t realize you were signing up to sit on an uncomfortable stool nearly stark naked for hours on end. Your arms were aching from holding up the thin scarf that teasingly covered your breasts and draped over your front. Your bottom was sore from sitting on the wooden stool. “I’m getting tired,” you whined. “Couldn’t we just take pictures?”

“No, you wanted to know if I was any good, and besides, painting you in only a scarf is much more intimate.”

“But pictures are intimate, too!” You argued. You had several explicit, teasingly explicit, intimate Polaroids stashed away in your room to prove that. “Plus, I feel like you’re making a Picasso-esque painting and I’m going to be very offended when I take a look.”

“I’m almost done.” He laughed. “And you’re not going to be offended. I promise.” You gave him a playful glare. He seemed a little too confident.

“So, if you’re almost done, can I put on clothes now?” You muttered.

Chris laughed as he glanced up at you from his canvas that was propped up on an easel. He looked you up and down then licked his lips before smirking. “I think I prefer you like this.”

“Perv.”

“Only for you, babe,” he winked before picking up his paintbrush again. He swiped for a few more minutes despite your complaints before dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “Magnifique!” He exclaimed in – what you assumed to be – a fake French accent. “Come look!”

You hesitantly got up from the stool. Your legs had fallen asleep several times throughout the two hours you were sitting. You covered yourself as best as you could with the sheer scarf – not that Chris minded the view. You made your way over and gasped when you looked over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

Saying that it was “magnifique” was an understatement. No words could describe the artwork in front of you. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Chris had painted you or if Chris painted it at all. He could’ve just bought a painting and had you sit naked in front of him for two hours.

“You did this?” You gaped.

“Duh.” He laughed. “I need to add a few finishing touches. A couple shading here and there. But it’s done. And my poor baby,” he pulled you over to sit on his paint covered lap, “was getting sore and tired.” He kissed your shoulder. “You like?”

“I love!” You said. “I don’t even look like that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you do. You’re a goddess.” He kissed the part of your neck where it met with your shoulder. “You should model for me more often.”

“I think I just might. It’ll boost my ego.” You joked. “I love it, Chris, really.”

“I love you.”

The boxes were full of memories. Memories you couldn’t just ship off. You couldn’t just let them go.

But months after the breakup and several encouraging speeches from your friends, you finally caved. With a nervous sigh and shaky hands, you put the shipping labels on the boxes. You weren’t sure if you should’ve added a letter – a piece of closure for you and maybe for him – but you decided against it. You weren’t sure if you could write down how you felt without breaking down again and backing out of sending them off.

You needed to do this. If not for him but for you.

-=+=-

When the packages arrived, he was very confused. Who sent him boxes? Did he order anything and just forgot? But when he read the labels, his heart sunk. Your name and address printed in small letters on the corner of the label.

He slowly went through the things. The memories unfolding before him as he unpacked. The baseball cap he thought he had lost, the watch he was desperately looking for days ago to wear for a red carpet (it brought him a sense of comfort. It soothed his anxiety knowing he had a part of you with him during big events – during anything really.), the painting of the goddess that ruled over his heart – and still did.

It hurt him thinking that you spent months probably packing away things he had left in your apartment. It hurt him thinking about you crying as you rediscovered each item again. It hurt him staring at the watch that boldly read the promise you both swore to keep.

Dodger, as if sensing his dad’s anxiousness, nestled against his leg. He looked up at Chris with sad eyes and nudged his leg as if to tell him it’s okay, dad, don’t be sad.

“I should call her, huh, bud?” Chris asked his dog. It’s been months. Months since the relationship ended, since the story was over. The pain should’ve dulled by now – for both of you. But it was still there. A sharp, ache that raged in your hearts.

Chris fumbled with his phone. His finger hovered above the telephone icon with mobile written underneath it. Your contact picture smiled brightly up at him.

Don’t do it. Your picture said to him. Let us heal.

Chris sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he should shoot you a text and thank you for his things back. He wasn’t sure if he should call you and ask for a second chance – would you even want a second chance?

But instead, Chris decided to do the same.

In the next few days, he packed up each and every one of your items that you left in his house. Toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, Polaroids that you took of him, of you, of both of you. Everything. He shipped them off with a letter thanking you for sending his things back, telling you that if you ever needed him that he was one phone call or text away. He thanked you for your time together, telling you that it was, truthfully, the best time of his life. He ended it with an I love you forever and a day although he wasn’t sure if he should’ve – if you would’ve wanted to be reminded of your sacred promise to each other.

When he shipped it off, he felt as if his home was hollow. He didn’t realize how much of you he still kept around. But he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It needed to be done.

Chris walked back up to his bedroom. But he didn’t send everything away… He wasn’t ready to shut the door on forever and a day just yet. He pulled the top drawer of his dresser open and pulled out the scarf from the painting. He inhaled. Your perfume was still strong. It still smelled like you – like happier times. He couldn’t let go of every part of you – not yet.

Similarly, you kept one of his sweatshirts. It was an old one that he slept in. It was years old – you often joked it was older than you. You sometimes slept in it. It still carried his scent. A part of Chris you still kept. Similarly, you weren’t dead set on goodbye either. Perhaps – and you hoped – that this was just a see you later.

But nevertheless, this was a new chapter – for both of you. And if the story were to bring you back together, then you would both welcome that. And if not, you’d welcome that, too.

[writing-in-april]

Souvenir

Poe Dameron x Sex Worker Female Reader

Summary: Poe’s found himself in a tight spot after a run in with the first order. Reader helps him out by lending him some clothes, though they aren’t exactly the proper attire.

A/N: Day 2 of 7 for my 500 follower celebration! This is my first Poe smut so I’m a bit nervous, I’ve only posted an angst piece for him before. I saw this post recently again and my head like ran wild with possibilities. Thanks to @reidlusts for helping fuel my thoughts! The premise is a bit ridiculous but I love it anyway! Requests are open!

Warnings: Leia’s infamous gold bikini but owned by someone else, Cross dressing, Reader is a stripper, Sub Poe, Begging, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex, Sex with a stranger

Masterlist Word count: 2.65k

The streets of Corellia were not a place I should have been in the dead of night but it's not like I had any choice in the matter. All the money I earned from work was invested in my savings so I could buy a ship to find a way off this wretched planet.

Speaking of work, it had been especially grueling today, the patrons had been more sleazy than normal (which was saying something) and my back was tense from the constant stress I had been put under by the manager. Normally, I’d be grateful for the job I had, stripping was not the most noble profession to have according to some people. But, it was the job that paid the most on this skughole planet plus it was a great boost for my confidence. However, the tension screaming in my body as I walked home that night dashed away any gratitude I had for the job at the moment.

If most of Corellia’s people had not been scum of the earth I would’ve found someone to warm my bed for the night. I’d have to be content with my own hand tonight I guess, I’d rather not get some disease by sleeping with a mildly attractive smuggler.

A noise from the back alley behind me caused me to swivel my head around. If one didn’t pay enough attention here you’d be robbed blind before you could even blink, so just for extra protection I pulled out my small blaster I had only for emergencies and set it to stun.

“Who’s there!” I shouted out with all the conviction I could muster, even though I had lived on Corellia for my entire life every time something like this happened I shook with a bit of fear.

I didn’t get a sentence out of whoever the stranger in the alley was, more of a rough grunt that sounded like whoever it was was in a struggle. Not wanting anyone to fall into harm's way I broached the entrance of the alleyway only to find something I wasn’t expecting. Instead of a man in a fight with another like I was expecting there was a singular man who was trying to put out a small fire that had erupted and had spread to the jacket he’d been wearing. Once I had gotten over the odd sight I moved forward to try and help him by pulling the jacket off of him, the stranger jumped at first not expecting the sudden touch of my hands. Pulling the leather jacket off swiftly I threw it on the ground, stomping it with my boots to get the flames to die. I got the fire to cease eventually though I was almost positive the jacket was ruined by the flames anyway.

“Thank you.” The mysterious stranger said gruffly sounding just as tense as I was. I turned to face him expecting a rougher man then I was met with. He looked like he had been through Mustafar and back, especially his clothes which were as destroyed as his jacket. Though he did have an air of familiarity to him.

“Aren’t you the flyboy that’s on those resistance posters?” He looked a little frightened at my words, probably afraid I’d turn him into whoever had been chasing him on this planet. I had recognized him specifically from the ones that were plastered outside the walls the club I worked at filled with the same shot of what I presumed to be the man in front of me. I put my gun away into my bag to reassure him slightly and made sure to put the safety back on.

“Yeah Poe- Poe Dameron” He supplied to me after a long pause of him gazing over me, no doubt trying to find out how much trust he could place in a stranger walking home from a strip club. I then gave him my name, a small token of good faith to him even though it was not nearly as important or valuable as his. “Do you happen to have anything I could change into in that bag of yours? I’d be eternally grateful.” I hesitated heavily before answering his question. Normally, I would help anyone in any sort of trouble even though I had little to spare myself. But, the options that I held in my bag seemed far more inadequate to me compared to the burnt clothing he was wearing.

“Ummm, the only thing I really have is this…” I pulled out what I had been wearing during my show earlier in the day, my cheeks blushing hard at the thought of the handsome pilot wearing my undergarments. The set I had been wearing was gold and maroon in color, it was rather expensive though it was worth buying for the extra tips I got just from wearing it. The gold wound around the bra in elegant detailing that paired perfectly with the bottoms that were made of a heavy gold chain that had a barely there flowing maroon skirt.

“No it’s fine I’ll just stay in this” He immediately remarked with a flushed face as soon as he had gotten a good look at what I had pulled out of my bag. I would have dropped the subject then and there if it wasn’t for the fact that one of his pant legs was almost completely shredded leaving less to the imagination then even my skimpy set and his shirt looked like it was hanging on his back by a thread.

“The walk to my apartment isn’t far, I’ve got more suitable clothes there, you wouldn’t have to wear it for long.” I hesitantly said not wanting to push him too far and push him away from someone who could partially insure his safety for the night.“Plus, I have a communicator you could use to get word back to the resistance.” He still hesitated at my offer, I didn’t know if it was still because of the outfit he’d have to wear or whether he was trying to contemplate if he could trust me fully or not. He’d already given me his name, which in these parts would be worth precious credits to most. Still, he must have weighed his options in his head, realizing that the random stranger in the streets was the only road ahead. He nodded his head in confirmation and hesitantly took the pile from me, then I turned around to give him some privacy.

Really the only thing he needed to put on was the bottoms so I was surprised to see that he put the top on at all, but maybe it just helped him feel more covered. The top fit much different on him compared to how it looked on me, I dare say he looked better than I ever did.

The bikini bottoms were the most scandalous part of the ensemble on Poe to say the least. It hid very little from the imagination- and it was only hidden by the long strip of maroon fabric that came down the middle. If he shifted in the slightly wrong direction I’d end up getting an eyeful I’m sure.

I couldn’t stop staring at the almost ethereal sight before me of the resistance poster boy being dressed in my lingerie, the only thing ruining the perfect image was the fact that we were still on the dirty streets of Corellia. Shaking my head I tried to get the image of his tan body in my clothes, though that didn’t really work too well the image of him was still burned into my eyes. Instead of dwelling on how much I wanted to jump his bones any longer I grabbed his hand guiding him quickly through the streets to get home fast and hopefully avoid any prying eyes that I’m sure Poe didn’t want gazing on his half naked body.

When we got to my rundown apartment I paused a little before leading him to my bedroom, even though my intentions were completely innocent, I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. I was surprised when he quietly sat on my bed not moving to remove the undergarments immediately or asking to get me some other clothes. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? I contemplated to myself in disbelief- there was no way he would do everything I wanted to do to him.

However, when I looked back up his eyes were blown wide in lust and I could see that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I commanded dominance over him as I straddled his thigh, then pulled him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue that gave away just how desperate he already was for me.

“You ok with me being in charge?” I asked after reluctantly pulling away from his lips, I wanted to make sure that he really did truly want this as much as I did. I didn’t have to wait for a response to this question I asked as he confirmed it to me with a breathless yes. So I then stripped off the rest of my clothes and moved to restraddle his thigh.

His muscled thigh flexed underneath me as I started to rock my hips over it to bring myself to pleasure, the barely there skirt was then bunched up into my hands to get a better look at him even though he was practically naked already. As I continued to undulate my hips on his thigh Poe became restless, his hands fisting the sheets underneath him until they looked as though they could break from the pressure. Even though I hadn’t explicitly told him he could not touch me without permission he seemed to understand that only I was able to give him what he wanted, he couldn’t just take it for himself. He had to ask politely- and maybe beg a little.

“Please.” Brokenly came from his lips while his head tipped back in frustration. I used the hand that wasn’t bunched up in the skirt to wrap around his jaw and tug his face back forward to look at me.

“Please what? What do you want?” His eyes went glassy almost like he was going to cry from my words alone.

“Please let me touch you!” The cry of his words from his lips was beautifully desperate and it was almost enough for me to give in. Instead I moved both of my hands to his, taking them in mine and pinning them above his head while leaning forward.

“No.” I whispered tauntingly into his ear, biting a little on the shell of his ear a little before continuing,“You don’t sound desperate enough.”

The high-pitched whine that came up from his throat made my clit throb, loving the way desperation looked on him. His whole body now glistening with sweat as well as his jet black curls that were falling down around his face, ruining the perfect image of the poster boy ruined just for me. I pulled off of him just before reaching my release, the only thing I wanted to be orgasming on was what was teasing me beneath the skirt and chain.

Slipping my hand underneath the gold chain of the bottoms I wrapped my hand around his hard cock, I bit my lip in anticipation of what I was going to do next- thinking about how big he’d feel inside me. I wanted to keep the outfit on him while fucking him so I pulled the panties down just enough so his cock sprung free. I started jerking him a bit making sure to spit into my palm to get my hand nice and slick for him. I didn’t do it to get him hard as he was already definitely there, I just liked to hear his incoherent pleads.

Finally I obliged the man who was now well past desperate after all the teasing from me, his eyes glistened with tears that threatened to spill over. I moved to fully straddle him lining up his cock to my wet hole. When I sunk down I made sure to go slowly to feel every part of him with the added plus of his choked sounds every time I took him a little deeper.

‘“Please can I touch you now?!” He almost growled out once I settled all the way down on him, though it changed into a dragged out high pitched whine,“I’ve been so good for you..”

“Yes you have been really good.” I pretended to contemplate his words for a second while starting to roll my hips in a steady rhythm, before pulling his hands from above his head to rest on my hips, giving silent permission for him to touch me to his heart’s content.

He took my permission immediately and ran with it, he lifted his torso up so he was now sitting up chest to chest with me then dipping his head down to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. He then started to meet my thrusts harshly pulling us both towards our respective releases at vigorous speed.

My release hit me after a blissful buildup, it was the longest most devastating orgasm I had had in forever, so powerful that it was borderline painful. After my high satiated I went back to rocking my hips fiercely to try and give Poe as good a release as I had just had. As soon as I wrapped my hand back around his jaw, pulling him into a filthy kiss then whispering “Cum for me” into his lips his release broke over him. I pulled out just in time, wrapping my hand around him to milk his high, he met the twists of my wrist with his own shallow thrusts to prolong his release. After a few more thrusts into my hand he came down, though he was still panting heavily. We sat together in content for a few minutes, Poe was cuddling into my chest while I ran my fingers through his inky black locks.

The communicator beeped, bursting the little bubble we had created just for ourselves, his general right on the other line ready to confirm his location and bring him home. He fiddled with the edge of the silken material of the skirt looking contemplative after he’d confirmed his location with the rescue team. I hoped he’d at least take my comm code with him when he left- Maybe that’s what he was worried about, I still was a relative stranger after all. I hoped he felt the immediate connection that I felt, that this wasn’t just sex. I floundered in the awkward silence cracking my knuckles a bit while he continued to fiddle with the edges of the fabric.

“Keep it… As a souvenir.” It may have been an expensive purchase and it would be a pain to give away but I knew I could never wear it again around my workplace without thinking about the man that was about to leave me.

“Could I take you as a souvenir as well?” His words shocked me- He wanted me to come with? I hadn’t shown him any skills that would be valuable to the resistance (I was a pretty damn good pilot but everyone on Corellia was)- The only explanation is that he wanted me to come back with him because he liked me, enough at least to want to continue being in my presence.

“You want me to come with you?” He nodded and looked at me with melancholy eyes, almost like he thought I was going to say no. I was taken aback by his sudden care for a person he’d just met, there was no way in Mustafar that I was going to say no, I’d gladly be his souvenir any day.

[smollestnerd]

XigXem SFW Headcanons

I love doing these to get ideas for headcanons I wouldn’t normally consider, and since I finished filling these out today I thought I’d share! Borrowed from the @otp-imagines-cult post here!

(Just a heads-up, this is a messy mashup of canon-compliant and modern au headcanons)

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Xemnas spends so much money on Xigbar. He doesn't even try to say no at this point, he knows Xig will get his way.

Xigbar sometimes feels guilty about how much Xemnas spends on him, but those feelings fade as soon as Xem comes back from shopping with bags full of gifts for Xig.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Xigbar sleeps in Xemnas’s lap. It's rare that it's the other way around, usually only if Xem is extremely tired or upset (he'll fall asleep while being comforted and held of course).

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

They both do. Well, Xigbar runs around HALF naked, Xemnas is just full frontal at any given point if they’re home alone. Xig will tell him to cover up, but he doesn't ever mean it.

When they have guests, Xigbar is fully clothed 100% of the time. Xemnas, though? There’s always at least a 10% chance he’ll forget wearing a shirt is a thing people expect from him. Everyone is either too afraid or horny to tell him to put one on, thus the responsibility falls on Xigbar to tell him. (Again, about a 10% chance he’ll “forget” to tell him to put on a shirt.)

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Bold of you to assume they both don't have 11pm bedtimes.

But every so often Xemnas will lose himself in his work and suddenly it's 3am.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Xigbar is forbidden from cooking anything that isn't microwaveable.

Xemnas's fallback career was fancy chef if “Superior of the In-Between” didn’t work out.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

Neither, but only because neither of them are very online. I think if they were though, Xemnas would see their relationship in everything but not say anything out loud. He just smiles to himself and moves on.

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Xigbar is an accomplished hoodie thief. Xemnas wears Xig’s croptops sometimes to work out in, but always returns them when he's done.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Xemnas is usually the one running errands, but he rarely forgets anything on the list. Xigbar always asks if he remembered everything, though, just to soothe his own anxiety, and quietly hoping to catch Xemnas slipping up so he has something to tease about.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

Xigbar drives ever since Xemnas got his license suspended for running too many red lights.

Or; Xig drives like a maniac and Xem is just so used to it he doesn't even bother to insist on driving anymore (unless he's the designated driver, which usually he is). Xem is lowkey surprised Xig has a clean driving record.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Xemnas poses, Xigbar draws. Xig’s had plenty of lifetimes to perfect his hobbies, and even though he hasn't had time for them in a while, it doesn't take long for him to get back into the swing of things. What better way to capture his lover's radiance than through charcoal drawings and oil paints?

Plus, Xemnas absolutely adores the attention. He just basks in the glory of another being finding him beautiful enough to immortalize on canvas.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

I want to say Xemnas is the super cool backflip guy and Xigbar is the one with the chips, but honestly? It's the other way around. Xig likes to show off in front of his man, and who could blame him?

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

Xemnas overdoes it. He doesn't drink nearly as often as Xigbar does, so he doesn't exactly know his limits. Xig tries to keep his eye on him and make sure he doesn't drink too much, but unfortunately Xem is REALLY good at acting sober, so Xig never realizes Xem has overdone it until its too late.

He takes really good care of Xemnas, though, no matter how drunk he is himself.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Xemnas and Xigbar both surprise each other quite often. Xigbar gives Xemnas little things like seashells and shiny baubles he finds on missions/outings that he thinks Xemnas will like for his office shelves. Xemnas sends Xigbar flowers when he senses Xig having a bad day, and buys him every new book that Xigbar expresses even a passing interest in.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Xemnas. He's definitely the romantic here. He's got an Entire Notebook filled with different combinations of their names squashed together.

Xigbar is lowkey terrified of major commitment. He'd say yes if proposed to of course, but he'd never offer himself up like that.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

Xemnas saves it, Xigbar just squishes it. Neither are afraid but they have different approaches to dealing with bugs.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

On most cold days you can find Xigbar wearing a too-big leather coat and Xemnas in naught but a t-shirt or turtleneck.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

Ansem tried. He tried so hard. But he severely underestimated Xigbar’s resistance to intimidation tactics.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

Xemnas. He planned out a whole mega-elaborate date for the two of them, and confessed his love for Xigbar.

Xigbar: "Wait we weren't dating already??"

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

They would make fantastic fathers, they'd care about their kids so much. But christ alive that household would be chaotic as all fuck.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

Xemnas used to type with perfect grammar and spelling until he learned about text lingo. "It's more efficient, Xigbar, I am a busy man and don't have time to type everything out." It's a damn lie, though, he just thinks it's neat.

Hell will freeze over the day that Xemnas uses an emoji.

Xigbar relies on emojis and autocorrect and if it doesn't catch a typo or he sends the wrong emoji, “Oh well.”

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

The bully gets attacked by them.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Xigbar is the pun king. Genuinely funny. “10/10 would hear again.” -Xemnas, probably

Xemnas tries sometimes, bless his soul. Xigbar just doesn't have it in him to tell him they're bad.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

To Xigbar's dismay, this has happened more than once. He's the dad that is against the pet but ends up loving it, and Xemnas just can't resist bringing home strays.

They have 2 big dogs, a little dog, and a cat, and have fostered a few puppies and old, sickly cats here and there.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

When Xemnas gets too drunk to stand, Xigbar will give him a piggyback ride, but he never tells him the next day. Xemnas is too prideful and would be very ashamed to hear of it. Plus, Xigbar kinda likes keeping those moments between them to himself; like a secret he’s keeping safe for a special occasion.

Xigbar will ask for piggyback rides all the time, and Xemnas is happy to indulge him.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

When Xemnas cheers for Xigbar, it's less overzealous and more normal cheering, it's just that Xemnas' voice is booming and carries over the rest of the crowd with ease.

(Don’t ask me what competitive activity Xigbar does, for I Do Not Know)

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

They both do. The main difference is that Xemnas focuses the camera on Xigbar, and Xigbar gets them both fully in the shot.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

Both of them would be willing to give the other a makeover, but neither of them have asked.

But! Xemnas does Xigbar’s makeup sometimes, and Xigbar has bought his own style of clothes for Xemnas on a few occasions, just to see what he’d look like.

(Unrelated sidenote: they have matching onesies with cat ears and a tail that Xigbar refuses to wear unless he has to, or unless Xem asks him while Xig is wasted)

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Before they moved in together, Xigbar refused to go inside Xemnas's house unless his husky was in the backyard. He got used to her over time, and now Xemnas sometimes comes home to them asleep cuddling on the couch.

Xemnas was never actually afraid of Xigbar's beloved corn snake, but he wasn't a fan either. He’d hold him, but he wasn’t thrilled about it.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Xemnas holds the umbrella, Xigbar holds the Xemnas

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

In a canon setting they’d go worldhopping for a week, but in a modern au they'd take trips every year to cities and small remote locations around the world.

They've never been properly camping though. Xemnas refuses.

Their first trip together was small, just to a little known beach on the west coast. They lounged on the beach most of the time, and every night they ate at a different food truck. The last night they were there Xemnas surprised Xigbar with reservations for the fanciest 5-star restaurant in the city.

Xigbar thought he took all the pictures until he was going through them after the trip, only to find over half the memory card filled with photos of himself that Xemnas took when he wasn't looking

[yikesharringrove]

drummer!billy fucks steve after robin drags him to billy’s band’s concert at the gay bar and he swears he hates the band until he sees billy... please :)

I’m so hot for drummers I became one. That’s TRUE.

This is some modern lovin’.

Also I have a friend in a vegan eco-punk folk band and they fucking suck.

Pansy Division is a real queercore band they are AMAZING super recommend they have a song called Fem in a Black Leather Jacket that I can SO see Billy singing to femme!Steve to be teasing one day.

Queer Bar is the name of a REAL BAR my friends and I (used to, thanks Miss Corona) go to to watch drag performers and queer punk bands.

Ayoo3

Porn Porn.

Steve didn’t go to a lot of concerts.

He didn’t do great in sweaty crowds, and the loud music would leave his ears ringing for days. But Robin would still drag him out to see her friends’ shitty bands play at shitty dive bars.

“You have to come. It’ll be fun. They’re actually, like good.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“That’s what you said about the last two bands, Rob. And they fucking sucked.”She had dragged him to some house show for her friend in a vegan eco-punk folk band which is apparently a thing that exists in this world, and they sucked. It was like someone screaming about global warming over a Bon Iver song. It made Steve want to actively go out and litter.

“What’s the genre?”

“Queercore. You can listen to them! They have an album on Spotify that’s done pretty okay. They’re called Pansy Division.” Steve gave her a cold look as he pulled them up. He listen to their three most popular songs, That’s So Gay was a pissed off track about people using the word gay as a derogatory. Fem in a Black Leather Jacket was self explanatory, and Luv Luv Luv was a more chilled out song, but the lyrics were all about how love isn’t real and “we’re all just animals at the core”. Steve was sold.

“Where are they playing.” Robin grinned at him.

“Queer Bar.” Steve groaned. Queer Bar was small. A divey place that got hot and sticky. Steve didn’t like going as he always left covered in spilled drinks, and other people’s sweat, and had hooked up with three of the bartenders and just didn’t really wanna deal with all that.

“I don’t know, Robin. You know I don’t like Queer Bar.”

“You like it just fine. You’re just a slut. You do realize that if we could only go to bars where you haven’t fucked one of the employees, we would have like, five bars to choose from.”

“Don’t slut shame me. I am a young flower, who must dance on the wind and take a dip in every pond.” Robin stared at him.

“Steve that makes no fucking sense. Just admit you’re a sloppy whore and let’s move on.”

“Fine. I’m a sloppy whore. So when is this terrible night scheduled?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Robin!”

“Dingus!”

“You couldn’t’ve given me some notice?”

“You’re getting like, thirty hours of notice right now.” She rolled her eyes. Steve always told her one of these days they were gonna fall right outta her head.

“You are a nightmare and the bane of my existence and I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you.” Steve deadpanned. She leaned over on the couch to smack a wet kiss to his cheek.

“And you should probably bring condoms. These guys are just your type.”

-

“So, that’s what you’re wearing?” Steve just glared at her.

“If you’re dragging me to this thing, I at least want to be comfortable.” He was wearing short denim cutoffs, ones she had cutoff for him. They were high-waisted, and he tucked a baggy Jane’s Addiction t-shirt he had stolen from his ex-boyfriend into them. He had just done a little eye shadow and smoked liner.

Robin was in a black body-con dress, her old brown leather jacket over her shoulder, but her arms were not in the sleeves. It was very fashiony of her. Steve tugged on a red bomber jacket.

They would be meeting Robin;s girlfriend, Heather, at the bar. Apparently she was friends with someone in the band.

“Let’s go, Dingus.” Robin was holding The front door to Steve’s apartment, swinging it between both hands. He pinched her side as he walked past.

They had to take a Lyft to Queer Bar, another reason it was the worst. It wasn’t in walking distance. Their driver was this quiet guy who wouldn’t stop staring at Robin, even when she loudly started talking about her girlfriend. Steve only gave him four stars, a serious deal for Steve, who would probably give five stars even if the driver fucking murdered him.

Steve had met Heather quite a few times, and he liked her. She was cute, and easy to talk to, and made Robin so happy, but she also kept talking about Billy and how he was going to come out with them later, and kept winking at Robin.

They traipsed into the bar, Steve ducking to avoid one of the bartenders he had slept with. The guy had been real clingy after and asked Steve to get breakfast while Steve was trying to get dressed and get outta there.

So, they’re in the club, and it’s about time for the band, well, it’s twenty minutes after time for the band, and Steve is tired and is nursing a vodka cranberry and has been hit on more than he wanted tonight.

But then the band is taking the stage, and Steve is ready to lose his mind at this perfect specimen taking his place behind the drums.

He had tattoos on nearly every inch of skin Steve could see, his arms, his legs, his neck. He was putting his long hair into a ponytail, a few curls escaping and settling around his face. He was laughing at something the bassist was saying to him, twirling his stick in one hand.

“Heather’s friends with the drummer. His name is Billy.” Robin was giving him a knowing look.

The band was pretty good. Played a lot of loud songs. People were slam dancing around the front, far from where Steve was standing, watching the drummer. He really fucking whacked the drums, broke about three sticks during the hour set. He was all sweaty. Would play with a big grin on his face, blue eyes crinkled, tongue between his face.

By the time they finished their set, Steve was sporting a half-chub in his shorts, was rearing to get fucked by this gorgeous drummer.

“What did you think!” Heather was beaming at him.

“Yeah, they’re okay.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“So, we’re just waiting for Billy, then we can get outta here.” Steve’s heart stopped. He had fucking forgotten they would be hanging out with this perfect Billy.

He came up behind Heather, picking her up from behind, laughing loud and beautiful.

“Stop, Billy! You smell like shit!” He rubbed his head onto her neck, making her slap at him. He released her, turning those eyes on Steve. He put out a hand.

“Billy Hargrove.” He took both of Steve’s hands in his, made him blush.

“Steve Harrington. I’m a friend of Robin’s.” Billy ran his tongue along his teeth, looking Steve up and down.

They ended up going to a club and getting hammered. Steve danced pressed against Billy, ended up laying on the bar while Billy led a few random guys in taking body shots off of Steve.  He ended up making out with Billy in a dark corner, hands roaming until

“My place is close by. You wanna get outta here?” Steve shivered as Billy rasped in his ear.

“Yeah, let’s go.” They found Robin, who slapped Steve on the ass as he left, tucked under Billy’s arm. They walked a few blocks to Billy’s place, a little apartment over a Thai restaurant. It was cozy, had posters all over the walls, and lots of plants. He had a fat little cat he introduced as my chonker, Diablo.

They made out on the couch for a while, but then Diablo started yowling at Billy, so Billy hefted Steve up, and tossed him on the bed, refilling the cat’s water. Steve wrestled out of his clothes as he could hear Billy cooing to his cat in the kitchen.

“Holy shit you’re hot.” Billy shut the door behind him, staring at Steve, spread out and naked on his bed. “Heather said you were just my type.” Billy came to the bed, crawled over Steve, settling his wight over him. Steve reached up, tugging his hair out of the ponytail.

Billy ducked to kiss him, nudging his thighs open. He leaned to dig through the night table, brought out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Tattooed fingers nudged at his hole, rubbed lube around the rim. Steve started tugging at his shirt, making Billy laugh while he had to tangle it off of himself.

“Relax, Pretty Boy.” Steve whined as Billy went back to circling his hole, so he pressed in. He pressed up to the knuckle, curling his finger. He fucked it in and out of him slowly for a while, pumping his finger in and out.

He pressed another in, curling and spreading his fingers, stretching Steve out.

Steve took hold of his wrist, angling his hand.

“Curl you fingers.” Billy smirked at him, curling his fingers. Steve jolted as they shoved into his sensitive little nerves.

“You know just what you want, don’t you?” Billy was mouthing at his chest, sucked a dark mark on his left pec. “Not afraid to ask for it, either.”

He was drilling into Steve with his fingers, fucking him roughly with his hand, bending his fingers, opening them up. Steve was gasped, his legs opening even wider. He added another finger, pouring more lube over his hand, over Steve’s hole.

“I’m ready, just fuck me.” Steve’s eyes were wide, being sure to pout just the way he knew guys liked, voice all perfect and whiny.

“You’re bossy is what you are.” Billy added another finger, making Steve cry out at the stretch. “Think you can cum on just my fingers? I think I’d like that.” He bite gently at Steve’s nipple, making him arch into his chest, pushing his hips down onto Billy’s fingers.

“I want you cock. Please, just fuck me. Please, please.” Billy grinned, resting his chin on Steve’s chest, speeding his hand up, jack hammering it into Steve. “Holy fu-uck.” Steve came all over himself, choking around a few breathy moans.

“That was hot. You’re gorgeous.” Billy pulled his fingers out gently, letting Steve catch his breath while he took off his jeans, tossing them on the floor. Steve took extra notice of the lack of any underwear.

Billy was hard, his cock flushed red against his stomach. He rolled on a condom, settling himself between Steve’s legs, spread wide.

“You ready for me?” Billy was stroking Steve’s cock, smirking as Steve whined, oversensitive. Steve modded, wiggling his hips, whimpering for Billy to fuck him.

Billy pressed himself against Steve, holding his hips down as he gentled himself in, going slowly, inch by inch.

“You’re so tight Baby.” He was pressed flush to Steve, grinding his cock deeper, making Steve choke. He pulled out, immediately setting a brutal pace, sitting on his knees, one hand holding onto Steve’s upper thing, the other gripping his hip.

Steve was fisting the sheets under his head, clawing at them to try and hold on.

Billy was gorgeous above him, hair messy and wild, skin glistening, his muscles moving so beautifully under his tattooed skin.

Steve was hard again, trailed on hand down his body to wrap his fingers around his cock, jerking to the speed of Billy’s thrusts. He was getting close again, Billy was expertly hitting that sensitive little spot inside him, was panting and muttering about how hot Steve is, was making him whine and flush and fly closer to orgasm.

It hit him like a fucking train, making him cry out, adding to the mess on his stomach, tightening around Billy.

Billy gave one final grunt, slamming into Steve, emptying inside the condom. He caught his breath, staring down at Steve, running a finger through the spunk on his stomach, pressing it into Steve’s mouth, his eyes going dark as Steve moaned around his finger, eating his cum off it.

“You’re ridiculously fucking hot.” He huffed a laugh, pulling out of Steve to ditch the condom. “Now I actually owe Heather. That sucks.”

Steve laughed, slapping Billy’s chest.

[isis-astarte-diana]

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: Missy never gets to play rough with humans anymore - except for you, of course. [One Shot] [NSFW]

Warnings: Explicit, NSFW, 18+, but all of that said over and over again while shouting and banging a gong. It’s a self-indulgent work of fiction so be on the lookout for unhealthy relationship dynamics, less-than-stellar bondage practices and inappropriate use of Victorian footwear. Missy is her own warning. I’m gay, let me live.

Word Count: 3468

NB: Reader and Missy are both explicitly described as having vulvas. In the future I’ll try to have some more inclusive stuff coming out!

“Say something nice.”

Her hand is around your neck. Your breaths are laboured, but she’s not squeezing; just resting her cool palm against your throat, fingers spanning either side of your windpipe. You can feel your own rapid pulse where she touches you. The gentle pressure is a threat and a promise.

Enraptured, you gaze up at her. “I missed you today.”

Missy grins. It’s predatory, all gleaming teeth and blood-red lips, and something primal in your lizard brain is screaming but there’s no way to run and nowhere to hide with your arms spread wide and shackled to the console of her TARDIS, keeping you on your knees, naked with chest and belly and everything exposed to her searching eyes, her tearing hands, her biting mouth.

In her wool skirt and crisp blouse she looks radiant. Her cuffs are still buttoned, feathery lace framing the black fingernails she’s honed down to lethal talons, and her hair sits perfectly undisturbed. Save for her discarded jacket and the cameo brooch she’s removed from her collar, she’s fully dressed. It makes your exposure feel all the more obscene. Each throb of your heart reminds you that flesh, for all its pleasures, is pitifully weak.

She might have read your mind. “Can you feel it, darling?” She leans forward, close enough that you can see the flecks of makeup clinging to her lashes. “Something’s gone wrong in your DNA. Six million years of evolution and when the big bad wolf comes a-calling, you take off your clothes for her."

Your pulse skips at the warning in her voice. She’s right, of course - the knowledge of all that she’s done should send you running for the hills, but she’s turned you upside down and inside out and back to front until you’ll leap at the chance to chain yourself up in her larder, until you’re pushing your own throat into her open jaws. She could kill you in sixteen different ways at this very moment without breaking a sweat.

She won’t, of course. You know that. Still, it makes it all a bit more exciting.

“Now why,” the tips of her fingernails, dagger-pointed, make their presence known in the soft skin of your neck, “would a clever girl like you get down on her knees for me?”

You’re hypnotised by her eyes, wild and sharp and glittering like broken glass. “Because I’m yours.”

“Because you’re mine, what?” The claws dig deeper. This is the game.

“Because I’m yours, Mistress.”

Her eyes flutter closed with a soft sound of pleasure, her hand falling from your neck. There's power here for you, too; the power to please, or displease. Reward and punishment are both tantalising options.

The thing about Missy, though, is that she's unpredictable. 

When her palm collides with your cheek it startles you. Pain blooms hot and pink where she slapped you, and you set your jaw against it, swallowing hard. Without the use of your hands there's nothing you can do to soothe the sting. She completes the symmetry, her other hand striking the opposite side of your face. The pins-and-needles burn of it sends tears prickling at your eyes and your head drops as you struggle to regain your composure.

A harsh tug on your hair suggests that she has other ideas. Your chin snaps up from your heaving chest and she takes hold of it, hard enough to make your jaw hurt. Her lips brush faintly against your temple as she murmurs, “yes, you are, my love.”

There is no trace of tenderness in the way she sinks her teeth into your neck, yanking your head back to keep your jugular exposed. It’s a deep, clenching pain that works down into the muscle, pushing a cry past your lips before you can stop it. Your restraints rattle as you jerk in her grip like a rabbit in a fox’s mouth.

The hand that isn’t fisted in your hair, pulling at your scalp with eye-watering strength, rakes its nails up your exposed side and leaves goosebumps in its wake. You try in vain to squirm away but there’s not enough slack in your position for even the most pathetic movement and suddenly she’s twisting your nipple cruelly between thumb and forefinger. Despite your whine of protest, the stimulation triggers rippling pleasure between your parted thighs.

Missy’s jaws unlock from your throat and she sucks an angry bruise into the groove her teeth have left there. The exquisite ache, coupled with the ongoing torture her fingers inflict on your nipple, has you moaning with dizzying need. You can feel her smirking against your skin.

“Say it again, love.” She drags her tongue up the side of your neck.

The words come out strained. “I’m yours, Mistress.” She shivers with delight and slides her hand down your chest, over your stomach, and begins to idly play with your pubic hair. It’s not enough, not where you need her. You rock your hips, greedily trying to draw her touch downwards to where you’re slick and burning with desperation.

You should know by now that this is not the right move.

She pulls back immediately, landing another blazing slap across your face. Your mouth opens in a stunned cry but the sound is robbed from you when she slides three delicate fingers between your lips. Her skin is smooth and salt-bitter and you try to claw back her favour with adoring, worshipping licks but something cold stirs behind her eyes. The curve of her smile is sickle-sharp.

“Humans,” she muses, letting her fingers press deeper into your mouth. “So fragile.” Your eyes widen when she nears the back of your tongue but she knows what she’s doing, holding you in place by the hair while she triggers your gag reflex. Tears spring to your eyes as you choke and splutter on her fingers and she laughs, easing back unhurriedly and letting you breathe freely again. She keeps them there, knuckle deep in your mouth, just shy of obstructing your throat.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Missy teases. “I know that you’re dripping for me, darling. I can smell you.” She breathes deeply and you feel your face flush. Your thighs tense and squeeze closer together, doing the barest thing to soothe the ache there. Her boot slides between them and nudges them apart none-too-gently. “Patience.”

She presses forwards again. The first involuntary pulse of your throat has the salt spilling over from your eyes, a few hot tears arcing down your face. “Oh, poor girl.” Her voice is mocking. “Is this better?” As her fingers withdraw, she pushes a smooth, pointed leather toe up against your slick folds.

The touch runs up your spine like the jolt from a cattle prod. Your hands clench tightly on the crossbars of the console, so much effort focused on not rutting against her shoe that your teeth almost clamp down on her hand when she fills your throat once more.

This loss of control doesn’t go unnoticed. She speaks over the muffled sound of your gagging, tone low and threatening. “Bite me and I’ll pull your teeth out.”

It’s almost certainly an empty threat, but it works. You relax your jaw, and Missy begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, alternating between smooth strokes of her fingers and deliberate, deep thrusts that convulse your throat and force more tears from your eyes. The cold leather of her shoe grows slick as she starts to rub it up against your clitoris with the skill of an immortal.

The flickering pleasure settling in your abdomen is too much; you grind against her, riding the smooth leather in time with the drag and slide of her relentless fingers. She scoffs but doesn’t seem to mind.

“I could make you come like this.” It’s just an observation, but you moan weakly in agreement, sliding your tongue along the length of her fingers. “Just like this, on your knees, humping my boot like a dog.” She punctuates the words by nudging her toe forwards, just an inch, until the very tip of it breaches you. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s cold and unexpected and you make an indignant noise around the invading digits. She raises an eyebrow and presses further, far enough that you feel it beginning to stretch you open. You look up at her in a plea and she slides her fingers out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought you wanted to come?” Her knuckles, slick from your mouth, tip your chin up and force you to meet her eyes. “Is this not what you had in mind?” Your chest heaves as you drag in breath after grateful breath. Her voice hardens. “I’m waiting.”

“No, Mistress.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“And if it’s all I want to give you?” When you don’t respond quickly enough she pushes again, a faint burn settling in as the width stretches you more, half an inch of tapered leather now buried inside you. She speaks over your soft cry. “If it’s a choice between this and nothing at all?”

Humiliation be damned, the desperate, spasming need that grips your every intimate nerve stands testament that there is no decision to make. You concede. "Then I'll take all that you give, Mistress."

"Of course you will, darling. What else could you do?"

Despite your complaints you whine with disappointment when she pulls back, feeling open and empty where she's put you apart. Her hand tightens in your hair. "Down on your heels." Obediently you sink further down, sitting back on your heels for her. She uses her grip on your head to steady herself as she brings her slick boot up towards your face. "Clean it up."

Missy makes you work for it, keeping her foot just low enough that you have to lean forwards, straining your shoulders against the restraints. You drag your tongue greedily through your own sour-sweet arousal in the hope of softening her by eagerly degrading yourself. She nudges your jaws apart and pushes the toe of her boot between your lips. You give her a performative glance up through your lashes, bathing it with your tongue until all you taste is clean leather.

Suddenly your mouth is empty again, but your relieved breath is cut off when the sole of her shoe lands squarely in your chest, pushing you back until you’re flush with the railing. The heel is sharp against your breastbone.

“You want me to touch you?” You nod, breathless. “You want my fingers inside you, filling you, fucking you open until you beg for me to stop?” She pushes harder, letting the pressure of her pointed heel turn to pain.

“Please, Mistress.” Your heart pounds in your chest. “Yes, please, please.”

“Earn it.” She drops her foot to the ground and turns her back. One delicate hand slides into the pocket of her skirt as she walks away, towards the stairs. You hear the whir of her sonic.

The metal cuffs on your wrists detach from the console so abruptly that you crumple forwards, scarcely managing to catch yourself before your face hits the ground. The impact sends a bolt of pain through each arm, making you groan. She laughs.

“Come here.”

When you lift your head you see that she’s perched on the stairs, skirt hitched up around her waist, knees bent and spread wide in invitation. Eagerly you make to stand up.

“Down!” Her voice is like a whip cracking. “Crawl for me.”

Despite the ache in your hands and knees, you do as she says. The cold, wire-mesh floor of the console room is unforgiving beneath you and by the time you reach her there are stinging red imprints sinking into the skin of your kneecaps, your palms.

Even from a foot away you can see that she’s drenched. You wait, hands on the stair beneath her, mouth watering, for permission to touch her. After your ordeal shackled to the console it feels like the pendulum of power is swinging back towards you, at last.

Missy won’t allow it, of course. “Hands behind your back.”

Frowning, you lean back, weight on your sore knees once more as you clasp your hands together in the small of your back. You hear the sonic again and the electromagnets in the cuffs come to life, fastening them together tightly enough to pull your shoulder blades backwards and in. Her face hardens at the frustrated noise you make.

“I’ve not gone soft, you know,” she reminds you, leaning forwards to grasp your lower jaw in her slender fingers. “You can turn those big, sad eyes on me as much as you like.” She lets go and cracks her hand across your cheek. You know there’ll be bruises in the morning. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re pretty, dearest. Show me you deserve it, first.” Her fingers wind into your hair, pulling you sharply forwards and burying your face between her thighs.

Without the use of your hands to steady yourself the edge of each step digs into your torso. Your nose is buried in her dark curls, the tang and musk of her taking over your senses as you slide your tongue between her slick folds and drag it along the full length of her. She tightens her grip and warns, “if you tease me, I will make you regret it.”

So delighted are you to finally be kneeling between her legs that it’s a struggle to remember this is not a reward. You can’t resist a few more slow, indulgent licks, relishing the slight twitch of her thighs around your head. If you had any doubt over how much she enjoyed fucking your mouth with her fingers, it’s driven away immediately. She’s flooded with arousal, at least as much as you are, even the dimples at the apex of her thighs slippery with it. You suspect it won’t take long to finish her off.

As expected, she tugs on your hair, guiding your mouth higher as she lifts her hips and presses herself against the flat of your tongue. “Keep still,” she says harshly, and you’re delighted to hear that her breathing is uneven. “Going to ride your pretty mouth.”

She grinds against your mouth, using the surface of your tongue like a toy to rub in circles against her clitoris. You moan appreciatively into her flesh. With your face pushed into her mound like this you can’t catch a breath through your nose, and your chest begins to ache with need. Capable of only muffled sounds, you realise that you have no room to beg and she has no intention of letting you draw breath until she’s finished with you.

You push harder with your tongue, eyes squeezed shut as you try not to focus on the growing discomfort. You strain to match her movements as best you can. The motion of her hips speeds up, her breaths louder, one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping the banister of the stairs.

The control is gone from her voice; it wavers, breathless. “There,” she demands. “Stay there, just like that.” You do as you’re told, muscles in your jaw aching with the effort of maintaining the speed and pattern of your tongue’s frenetic twitching. She’s close, dripping down your chin like ripe fruit, writhing underneath and above and around you.

Missy makes a sharp, feral noise, rocks her hips once, twice, three times and falls back against the staircase. A fresh rush of slickness coats your lips and cheeks as she relaxes, breathing hard. Her fingers slide out of your tangled hair. You turn your head, resting your damp face against her thigh while you catch your breath.

In a rare display of tenderness for moments like this, she drags her nails against your scalp. You hum contentedly and nuzzle the soft skin beneath your cheek, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. Feeling mischievous, you dare to bite down. She lets out a pointed, barking laugh and yanks your head away.

Of all the places she’s taken you, all the things you’ve seen, your favourite sight in the universe is still this one; Missy’s imperious figure, her eyebrow raised in challenge, her pupils blown with pleasure as you look up from between her legs. “Are you getting brave with me, now, love?” She sits up, taking you with her, forcing you back onto your heels. “Do you need putting in your place again?”

Having her fall apart under your tongue never fails to make you delirious with need. “Always, Mistress.”

Sometimes you forget her strength. She manipulates your body with dizzying speed and suddenly your face is being pushed into the metal floor, cheek and chest pressed against the mesh, eyes fixed on the blinking lights set into the wall panels. Your back is arched, hips raised and legs splayed out to give her easy access. Spread apart like this you can feel droplets of arousal marking ticklish trails down the insides of your thighs, towards your aching knees.

She’s behind you, above you. A bold fingertip parts your labia and strokes your desperate flesh, making you cry out. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Mistress,” you manage, voice muffled by the way your face is squished into the ground. “Please take me. Please show me who I belong to.”

Her patience for teasing you always runs dry, won out by the scorching need to have you. Three fingers slide inside you in an instant. There’s no pain - you’re far too slick for that - but this position introduces some tension so that it stretches and stings just the smallest bit. Being so suddenly and mercilessly filled has you whining, writhing on her fingers. She leans down against your back, the weight of her crushing your breasts painfully beneath you. Her teeth nip sharply at your shoulder.

“Always so ready for me,” she breathes against your earlobe, crooking her fingers just so until they hit the spot that makes your abdomen clench with exquisite, agonising pressure. You moan brokenly. “So desperate to be filled, split open on my fingers like this.”

“Mistress-” you can’t finish the plea, cutting off with a howl when she forces her smallest finger past your clenching muscles, stretching you wider until the burn absorbs every thought. You can feel your pulse thrumming against her invading fingers.

“One day,” she says, far too casually as she begins to fuck you slowly, “I’ll have my whole hand inside of you, dearest. I’ll wear you like a glove. Would you like that?”

You hope the choking sob you let out conveys the full extent of your terror and unbridled excitement at the idea. Every cell of your body throbs in time with the rocking pressure of her fingers. The hand forcing your head down moves, but you don’t have the strength to lift your face from the floor.

“Come on, love,” she croons, tongue flicking your earlobe. “It’s time. You’ve earned it.”

Her arm slips under your raised hips and between your thighs, the tips of two fingers pressing hard against your clitoris and working a pitiless rhythm against it. The noise forced from your throat as you clench down around her is scarcely human and suddenly you’re coming, pinned beneath her, nothing to do but sink further down on her fingers and wail into the empty room.

When next you know yourself she’s sliding her hand free, making your legs twitch as every blazing nerve begs for reprieve. She lands gracefully on her back beside you and tugs you closer until you’re half lying on her. Gentle hands stroke the lengths of your bound arms, her lips fastened to your sweat-slick temple.

“Well done, my love.” She wipes tears you didn’t know you were shedding from the sore skin of your cheek. “Thank you for that. You were wonderful.”

Words are still beyond you. You settle for a soft hum of agreement and tangle your legs with hers, nuzzling deeper into her blouse to greedily breathe in the opium scent of her perfume.

Her fingers trail over your naked shoulder, landing on the deep bruise she’s left with her mouth. She pokes it and you whine. “Oh, shush,” she admonishes, but she soothes the spot with her fingertips. “Brutal enough for you today, darling?”

You snort. “We’ll see,” you manage to mumble against her chest. She laughs, and this time it’s deep and genuine, not the mocking chuckle she reserves for these games.

“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow we’ll take a trip to the Spanish Inquisition and pick up some new toys.”

The thrill of anticipation makes you grin and wince in equal measure. Your words are muffled by her blouse. “Promises, promises.”

[rawiswhore]

D Generation X x Fem Reader- “American Pie”

You're a child of the 80's hair metal era, which is evident considering how oversexualized and slutty you are.

As a young girl and teenager in the 80's and early 90's, you loved nearly every hair metal band, lusted over the lead singers and members, had their posters and photos all over your bedroom walls, bought hair metal magazines and even did stripteases to their songs in your bedroom as well as when you worked as a stripper.

It's even obvious with your taste in men: you love and lust over Triple H in late 1997/early 1998, who looked like Sebastian Bach from Skid Row during their heyday, and you lust over Shawn Michaels, who used to look a little bit like Kip Winger.

When buying hair metal magazines as a teenager, you remember one image sticking out at you in one issue: an image of the band Warrant eating pies over a woman's body while she lies on a table.

It's probably the same chick from their iconic, infamous "Cherry Pie" music video.

That image never left your head.                                      

D Generation X were the bad boys of pro wrestling in the late 1990's, Skid Row's "Youth Gone Wild" is a song that describes them quite well.

You came up with an idea for a magazine photoshoot involving DX and shared this idea not just with D Generation X, but with the WWF creative staff and photographers.

Near the end of 1998, during a magazine photoshoot, you were completely stark naked, lying on your stomach on a table, looking like you're "planking" that table.

Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Billy Gunn, Road Dogg and X Pac were all sitting on chairs around you, where there were 3 cream pies on top of you, one was above your ass, the other was sitting on the back of your knees whereas the other was on the small of your back.

No, you don't mean cream pie as your face or your pussy covered in jizz, you mean actual cream pies.

Although, there's a reason why this photoshoot has cream pies in it, though did the phrase "cream pie" as a sexual slang exist in the late 90's?

Those 5 DX members were digging into those pies, sticking their fingers in the pies and sucking the whipped cream off of their fingers, although not sucking each other's fingers (like Triple H putting his fingers in Shawn's mouth), as well as grabbing pieces of pie.

Though, Triple H could put his finger in Shawn's mouth considering Trips is bisexual.

Speaking of which, Triple H had his hair hanging down, not tied back in a ponytail, and was dressed in a tight black DX shirt and jeans and he didn’t have any facial hair on his face, Shawn had his hair hanging down and was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans.

Billy Gunn had his hair hanging down, not tied up in braids or in a ponytail, and was wearing his usual DX garb of a crop top and short shorts, whereas X Pac was dressed in jeans, a black DX shirt and a leather jacket and Road Dogg was wearing a black D Generation X shirt with the sleeves cut off and pleather shorts, his dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail.  

Unlike the woman in that Warrant image, you were holding your head up and smiling, you even put your finger in one of those pies and licked the cream and filling off of your index finger seductively.

As this was going on, cameras were in front of you and DX clicking furiously away, lights flashing in your eyes, the members of DX as well as you were looking at the camera, looking like you're all having a good time.

You really wish you had Jeff Hardy, Christian, Test and even Val Venis eating pie off of you, you even want Rob Van Dam, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith and even Lex Luger, Marty Jannetty and Raven from WCW to eat pie off of your naked body right now, but none of those men are members of DX, Bret Hart hates Shawn Michaels and the WWF's current Attitude era as it was known as.

Al Snow could eat pie off of you if he shaved that handlebar moustache off (though, he kind of looks good with it combined with that dirty blond hair).

Although, this photoshoot has Shawn eating pie off of your naked body, and Shawn by the end of 1998 wasn't a member of D Generation X, but he did used to be a DX member and even the leader of the duo.

You probably should've done this photoshoot at the beginning of 1998 when Shawn was still an official DX member and when the New Age Outlaws had joined the group.

You've missed Shawn so much, but haven't we all missed him?

While you were lying on this table, you were imagining Christian and Jeff Hardy eating pie off of you instead of X Pac and Road Dogg.

D Generation X might've been an awesome wrestling faction, but only 3 members of that group were actually sexy.

Next year, near the end of 1999, the Rock introduced one of his most iconic quotes, "poontang pie", which became a massive fan favorite.

You should've done this pie photoshoot at the end of 1999 or even in the year 2000 after the Rock said that iconic catchphrase, considering poontang pie was popular with the crowd.

That way, Christian, Jeff Hardy, Test, Billy Gunn, Val Venis and maybe even Triple H and Shawn Michaels (and hell, even the Rock) could all eat pie off of your naked body.

When some of the WWF male roster saw this photoshoot, including Jeff, Christian, Test and Val, they were jealous, wishing they could've had a few bites of pie off of your naked body.

Wonder if this pie photoshoot even was the inspiration for the Rock's "poontang pie" quote?

Considering this photoshoot is based off of a Warrant photo, you also shared with DX and the creative staff of the WWF an idea for a commercial that parodies Warrant's notorious "Cherry Pie" video, with DX as Warrant and you as the girl in that video.

Horny teenage boys, college frat boys and rednecks old enough to remember that music video would eat it up like pie.

The 90's was the decade of pie.

Warrant's "Cherry Pie" song and music video (which came out in 1990), the pie references on "Twin Peaks", "American Pie", and the Rock's poontang pie quote (which came out near the end of 1999, but...).

[whumpbby]

So, I was tagged by the lovely @paperempires to share some WIP snippets and, well, I feel so ashamed that I only have a couple>> 

Recent times weren’t good for my productivity:) And no that I’m back to work it’s not gonna be better, but hey, never say never!;]

I’ll tag: @wrongblacksun, @daemoninwhiteround2 and @garpie64 off the top of my head:D 

Hold my hand it’s getting dark - some of the chap 5

He was suddenly light-headed, his pulse thumping, breath coming in fast. He could not stop looking down on his crotch that, from the top, looked as normal as ever, but.... Confusion was slowly turning into panic, because that couldn't… what the hell was that?! What was happening?! What did they do to him?! 

“Master Jason?” A knock on the door tore into his building panic. “When you’re ready to come out, I have fresh clothes laid out for you.”

Alfie. Alfred was on the other side of the door. He needed… 

“Is everything alright, lad?” The old man’s voice took on a concerned note after no answer followed, but Jason barely heard him. 

“Alfie…” His own voice came out as a reedy croak. “Alfred…!” He didn't recognise the whine that came out of him, something wasn’t right! Something was wrong with him and it was suddenly hitting him hard. He needed… he needed someone…! “Alfred!” He was shaking and he needed to get back to bed, he needed...   

Unnamed so far TimKon :)

Kon knew the barest minimum about Jason. Just whatever he was allowed to see in the database, some rumours circling between the older heroes; whispers of death, of revival and a bag of heads that stopped the crime in Gotham for one solid night. An omega taller than most alphas, with guns and a leather jacket and a motorcycle. 

Based on that, Kon’s opinion of Jason was that he sounded like a total bad-ass.   

“I have a motorcycle too, you know?”

Kon didn't even turn to look at the disgruntled sounding Robin interrupting his rambling. “Where is your leather jacket, then?” He countered, trying to keep his voice steady. “You use the bike for work, Rob... may as well be an old lady driving a scooter.”  

My good old Venom!AU

Thing was, when Jason finally opened his eyes and his chest rose and fell in a deep, smooth breath, Dick forgot about everything that happened thus far. 

“Jay, please tell me you’re in there,” he begged the startled hazel eyes that stared at him in mild incomprehension from across the foot of space that separated them. “I need you to be awake and in control of your gooey friend now!” 

“D–Dick?” Jason stammered, glancing around, not at all bothered by the fact that the person in bed with him was currently strangled by his… growths. “What… what did you do?”

“I did nothing! But if you don't let me go I will do something and you will have to wash your bed!” He was bursting to go! 

Startled into action, Jason jack-knifed into a sitting position and his… goo… retreated, leaving Dick free to finally move. His limbs were numb from the hours of disuse, but he did his best to stumble at top speed into the bare-bones toilet he could see behind the cracked door on the other side of the bunker.  

A JayDickTim ABO snippet

He makes a step, the bracelet slips around his ankle and Tim feels himself shiver – he shouldn’t, the silver isn’t cold anymore, it warmed up from his skin, but still… it's something new that he keeps forgetting is there until it moves, something that keeps reminding him of the reality of the situation he's in. 

The gauzy shawl is light as air and delicate, and Tim can't get comfortable with it for some reason. It's too light, too insubstantial, he forgets he's wearing anything the moment he stops looking at it. The way it's wrapped around him is practiced and entirely too revealing even though it covers his hips and chest.  It’s strange how being partially covered makes him feel more self-conscious than being outright naked (he wasn’t embarrassed of that, he was naked around men before, dammit, he used communal showers more than once in his life!) He'd never paid any attention to his nipples, but now that they stand a risk of exposure if he twists wrong it seems like he can't think about anything else. 

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 13 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go to the temple of mammon, Studio 54.

“You look,” Gene said, throat drier than sandpaper, “really good.”

Good was an understatement. Paul looked hot. The light blue of the dress made a good contrast against his still-suntanned skin. The neckline made up for the dress length, providing more cleavage than Gene had seen out of Paul since he’d first met him on the front porch in the bathrobe. The heels accentuated his legs—even as a guy, Paul had always had nice legs—but for maybe the first time in three days, Gene was paying more attention to Paul’s face than his body.

It wasn’t like he’d done anything wild with makeup. Blush, red lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara. Except for the eyeliner maybe being a bit heavier, it was about the same look as the night prior. But Paul seemed happier. Relaxed. There wasn’t that tightness to his jaw anymore or that tension to his mouth. And that was a surprise, given the stilted way their dancing earlier had ended. Gene thought Paul might have been sore or tetchy, or at least awkward, but he’d just carried right on. Those sad brown eyes of his didn’t look sad at all, for once, and if Gene were sentimental, he would almost have said they were sparkling.

Maybe he’d just liked sharing a few dances with Gene. And maybe tonight really was the night that this would all be over. Every bit of it. Back to normal life for them both, touring and signing and interviewing. Back to life a hotel room away from each other. He’d be stupid to regret the change. Just stupid.

“You’re not half so bad yourself, Gene.” Paul crooked his head as if he hadn’t seen variations of his outfit at least a dozen times over just this year. As if he hadn’t been suggesting half of it while Gene had asked for the clothes to be sent over. Black leather everything, including the pants—something he already was regretting bitterly. Silver accessories. A belt with a spider encased in enamel as the buckle plate. The public demanded a monster movie out of Gene even when he got off the stage.

“That’s generous.” The limo was already idling in Paul’s driveway. “You ready?”

It took a few seconds for Paul to answer. He wasn’t looking at Gene, at least, not directly in the face; it almost seemed as though Paul was scoping him out, assessing him like there was something new to assess. Gene would have called him out on it, except during times like this, he never was sure if it was Paul’s hearing or Paul’s daydreaming to blame.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The limo ride was uneventful. Gene decided he didn’t care for Studio 54 long before they pulled up to the VIP entrance. He decided that through the line wrapping around the building for what seemed like miles, the garish outfits of the wannabes begging for admittance, and the weird air of desperation mixed with eagerness that seemed to permeate through the limo windowpane. It made him feel itchy. Beside him, Paul had spent a bit of time doodling peace signs and dicks in the misted-up windowglass like it was a school notebook. His good mood didn’t seem to dampen until the limousine stopped, and he saw the press, out there already, all cameras and notepads.

“Gene—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got my bandana.” He’d forgotten to ask for it over the phone, but it’d been in the box of clothes for him anyway. A couple of them, actually. “Do you want one?”

Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Switch spots with me, would you?”

Gene swapped obligingly. The limo wasn’t roomy enough to avoid Paul brushing up against him as they traded seats. He caught the woodsy scent of Aramis cologne in Paul’s hair, just another indication of what he’d spent three days pounding into his head now.

“Want me to hold the door for you, too?”

“God, no.”

Gene laughed, and got out first. The bandanas always made him feel like he was about to rob a bank. Every so often, they’d get goofy with it, find weird headgear—knight and astronaut and football helmets—but for the most part, bandanas and scarves were enough out in public, real public. Places where they wanted to be seen, under normal circumstances. The first half-dozen camera flashes were blinding as always. He helped Paul out of the limo, hovering over him as he stepped out. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring a jacket, but maybe that would’ve made it worse, provoked the paparazzi more, if he’d tried covering Paul up too much.

“You okay?” he asked, as the crowd shuddered and swarmed around them. A horde, just a horde, worse than the CBGB crowd ever considered being. Fans would want an autograph or a lay. The press only ever wanted blood.

“I’m fine, I’m—”

“Mr. Simmons!” A woman reporter called out, touching his free arm. “Can I have just a moment?”

“No,” he said, brushing past, his hold on Paul’s arm only getting tighter. Walking quickly, not making eye contact, until the line—there was a line, unbelievably, for VIPs—forced him to stop. Paul had his head half-buried against his shoulder for the whole duration of their wait, tensing with every camera flash and intrigued leer. Gene realized, offhand, that the attention wasn’t pissing Paul off the way it had at CBGB. Instead, it was scaring him.

It made sense, he supposed. CBGB wasn’t nearly important enough to have reporters and cameramen about. They didn’t have big names there, either, no one that Paul would’ve really worried about bumping into. Paul had said earlier that he didn’t think he could pull off talking to someone that knew him, and Gene suspected he was right. Gene suspected an interviewer was even further beyond him at this point.

He’d expected to just be let in once they arrived at the velvet-roped entrance, not really believing Paul’s claims about exclusivity, but instead, a broad-shouldered kid with a grin held them up at the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gene echoed, and shoved down his bandana. On wry automatic, he held up his free hand—full of rings, including the skull one that the teenyboppers seemed fascinated by—as if it was a secret signal. The doorman blinked, unconvinced. Gene could hear Paul snort beside him. “I’m Gene Simmons from KISS, and the—lovely Miss Eisen and I would—”

Still smiling, the doorman pointed at his own tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” But Gene stuck it out anyway. The kid’s expression didn’t change much as he opened the door to let them in. Gene pocketed his bandana, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Paul until they were on the VIP floor, and hopefully beyond the bulk of the press’ touch, and even then, he didn’t let go. Paul looked a little shaken up, anyway, though Gene couldn’t blame him. It was a different beast from last night, for all their objective hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry. They won’t have gotten any good shots,” Gene said.

“That may not matter. Depends on who else is here.” Paul sighed, worming his arm out from Gene’s, shifting to hold his hand instead. No hesitation. He was getting accustomed to it. So was Gene.

Gene stole a glance Paul’s way before really taking a look at the scene, trying to absorb New York’s hottest discotheque, decide if the interior impressed him any more than the exterior. He decided it didn’t. Maybe too promptly. But the flashing lights, the blaring music—all that was ostensibly no different from CBGB, or any other bar or club; it was just a matter of size and budget and spectacle. It didn’t matter if someone was worth ten bucks or ten million; they all looked the same passed out on the floor. Enough of them were already that Gene couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten to Studio 54 on time.

“What do you think, Gene?”

“You liked it here?”

The VIP floor was covered in lounge furniture, long couches and glass-topped tables. The carpets were dirty, and the smell of booze was heavier in the air than Gene had experienced in years. Probably not since that ill-fated Hotter than Hell shoot when they’d first started off, the one that had very nearly ended with—well. Gene wasn’t in the mood to consider that one, not given Paul’s current shape.

But almost every square inch of the place was smothered in people. Hollywood giants, of vintage and modern flavors. He saw Liz Taylor—wild, to see Cleopatra in the flesh, nearly fifteen years out from the role and easily fifty pounds heavier. He saw Michael Jackson, making moon-eyes as usual at Diana Ross. Poor, hopeless kid. He could’ve sworn he saw Truman Capote, hitting on a well-muscled, shirtless bartender. And all around the giants were the hangers-on and the hopefuls and the arm candies of the duration. Transvestites in g-string bikinis, lesbians in suits. It was viscerally strange, the sheer variety. No one was paying them much mind yet, aware, somehow, that they were too sober to be worth noticing. Paul cleared his throat, defensive.

“Well, yeah, I like it. It’s kind of wild, yeah, but—”

Three feet from them, a producer was puking straight onto the carpet, while a Playboy bunny rubbed the top of his head. On top of one of the tables, a guy was snorting a line of coke straight down a naked girl’s breasts, and as he kept sliding, Gene realized that the powder ran all the way down, bisecting her torso.

“Paul, this is a cesspool.”

 “C’mon, you’ve seen this shit before.”

“Not all at once.” Gene shook his head. “You’re not even into it. Why would you go here?” He understood it for Ace and Peter, as drugged-up as they’d get. He didn’t understand it for Paul. What was he trying to accomplish? What would it really matter, getting with the big names right in their stomping grounds, when those names were so trashed that they were useless? I want to belong somewhere, that was what he’d said. But this somewhere wasn’t it.

 “I just—”

“Mr. Simmons!” came a voice out of the din, eager and excitable. Not a VIP. The tone was too innocent, too close to admiring. Gene turned around.

“I’m not doing auto—”

“Mr. Simmons! I work for Mr. Rubell! I’m one of the doormen!” The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, blondish and broad-shouldered. “Sorry I didn’t get you at the door, we’ve got a couple new guys, they don’t know—but listen, we’re all looking for that Carol chick!”

“Good.”

“We’ll tell Mr. Stanley when we see him, too.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman nodded, making an awkward salute before heading back. Obliquely, Gene wondered if Bill and Sean had checked Studio 54 out yet. Rubell seemed to have a hiring preference in line with their tastes. He turned to Paul again.

“Looks like they got the memo. You wanna sit down?”

“I… maybe for a minute.” Paul’s eyes darted around, searching for an empty table. Gene looked, too, but he didn’t see one. No corners they could tuck themselves into—not that a corner would’ve been great for keeping a lookout for Carol. Gene felt Paul squeeze his hand. Shot nerves already. Gene could tell that much before Paul spoke again. “If I can keep from talking to anybody, that’d be great.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky,” Gene said dryly, spying a tall man getting up out of his chair and waving them over.

“If it isn’t Gene Simmons!” the man called out in a distinctively non-American accent. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the feathered brown hair and bright smile would’ve made it obvious. It was Barry Gibb, holding a glass of champagne. “I thought your band was back on the road!”

“Barry, hey,” Gene said, sticking out his hand on automatic. Barry shook it exuberantly. “You’re a few weeks early for that one. How are you?”

Paul looked a bit like he wanted to die on the spot. Barry didn’t seem to notice.

“Great, great. My little brother, Andy…” if possible, Barry’s beaming increased, “he’s just released a single. It’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Really? I think I’d heard he had his own group in Australia—”

“Zenta! You do keep up!” Barry clasped his shoulder. “No, that’s done with now. He’s doing some fantastic solo work…”

Despite the meaningful, sour glances Paul kept throwing his way, Gene’s interest was piqued enough at the thought of a hit, and the thought of a worthwhile contact—the time or two they’d met in passing prior, Barry had been just about this congenial, so Gene didn’t think he was drunk—that he accepted Barry’s invitation to sit down. The next twenty minutes were filled with shop talk, Barry sending off for a Coke for Gene and a whiskey highball for Paul (Gene suspected Paul took Barry up on the offer as payback rather than an actual desire to drink, since he barely touched it), and praise Gene had a hard time fully enjoying.

“My son loves KISS, you know,” Barry said at one point. “He’s never gotten half so excited over our albums.”

“Really? How old is he?” Gene took a sip of his Coke, leaning forward. “We’ll have Casablanca send him something. We have a whole catalog of new merchandise in the works.”

“He’ll be four in December.”

Paul, who had stayed mostly silent up until that point, looked mortified.

“Four?” he almost wailed. Barry seemed amused.

“Oh, love, it’s not an insult. I wish we had that kind of mass appeal behind us.”

“Gene, this—we’ve got to talk to Bill, Gene, we just can’t—I know we don’t get taken seriously, but for God’s sake—”

Under the table, Gene nudged Paul’s bare ankle with his boot. Paul flushed and cut himself off abruptly. Barry glanced over at Paul, then took a swallow of champagne.

“The youth market's the best one to be in, Polly. I've been in this industry long enough to promise you that."

“What, ten years?”

“Next year it’ll be twenty.” Barry got up, shaking both their hands. “I hate to leave you too abruptly, but I’m to meet up with Maurice in a bit. Great to meet you, Polly, great to see you again, Gene.”

“Yeah. And I do mean it, about the merch. We’ve got dolls—”

“Oh, Steve’d love them. Thank you.” Another bright smile, and Barry headed off. Paul let out a groan as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Twenty years,” he mumbled, slumping forward, propping his head up with his hand. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Bee Gees have been at it for twenty years?”

“I didn’t, either,” Gene admitted.

“Fuck, how old is Barry, anyway? Peter’s age?”

“I have no idea.”

“At least he’s not gonna see me again like this. God, he thought I was a jackass…” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t take it personally. Barry’s a good guy.”

“Twenty years stuck with his brothers. I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other.” Paul got up, stepping away from the table, and Gene followed suit. “Think we can get a better look around without getting interrupted? I couldn’t see anything from here.”

Just from a cursory glance, Gene doubted it. Most of the other tables were full or near-full, and no good for people-watching. They’d be better off on the floor.

“We’re going to have to stand to see.” Gene started to take Paul’s arm again, almost on automatic, but a glance at his shoulder stopped him. “Did you get another bra?”

“What?”

Gene pressed a finger against the purple strap hanging past Paul’s sleeve. Paul shook his head, looking abashed.

 “No, this is… this is just the nightie.”

Paul’s cheeks were going a little pink. That pink went straight to red when Gene tugged the strap back into place for him. He had to push Paul’s hair back and turn up his sleeve in order to fix the strap up again to his shoulder, under the dress. His skin was soft, dotted with a handful of moles Gene hadn’t ever really noticed before. There was the pitted smallpox vaccination scar, and the tattoo, of course, the green stem peeking a little past his sleeve. Gene’s fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his arm before he remembered himself enough to pull back.

“The nightie? Why are you wearing that here?”

The redness in Paul’s face wasn’t anywhere near abating.

“Because I didn’t buy a slip. This dress is thinner than I thought.”

“I bet it looks cute on.”

Paul fidgeted, starting to adjust the strap himself, fiddling with the slider.

“Thought you said you just liked what was underneath.”

“Well, that’s the main event, but you’ve got to say something for packaging—"

“Keep pushing it and you won’t find out.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Gene grinned. “Dance with me.”

 He said it on impulse, almost airily. The song blaring through the speakers—some new funk bit from Marvin Gaye was already midway through. Paul put one hand on Gene’s shoulder. Still worried about what people thought of him, even in a place like this. A place where no one would’ve even given much of a shit about them dancing if Paul was like he ought to be. And yet here Paul was, thinking anyone’d care about a girl leading a guy. Gene shook his head, taking Paul’s arm and moving it to his waist.

“No, you lead.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The driving, pulsating bassline and wailing saxophone were such a far cry from the CSNY album they’d danced to in Paul’s basement. There was a flippant, overly sexual air to disco that was kind of fascinating. More marketable than their own sordid stuff. Gene didn’t know if KISS would try and ride the wave—they’d talked about it, and Paul had tossed around a few song lyrics—but it hadn’t come to much yet. Might ruin their image. Might solidify it.

Step by step. Paul was stiffer on the dance floor than he’d been in the basement. Partially because of how he had to keep shifting them both around, to avoid dancing into other couples, or stepping on passed-out partiers. But there was more to it than that. His lips were pursed, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the song. Maybe, for once, he was listening to the lyrics.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A little sweat was clinging to Paul’s brow, and a little more to Paul’s palm, enclosed in his. He hadn’t tried anything close to fancy, not even any turns or spins. He’d seen Paul do better than this just a few hours ago. Nerves. Except the only time Paul didn’t nerve out was in front of an audience. And this audience was too wasted to care if the two of them were tearing up the dancefloor or stumbling through each step. Paul’s tongue was poking out between his teeth again, and he wasn’t looking Gene in the face, and he wasn’t looking around the room.

Something warm was spreading in Gene, the longer he looked at Paul, the longer they danced. Stepped in time, more like. That concentration made his features seem almost sweet. Paul’s hand on his waist was fidgeting, like he’d forgotten how to hold it. Gene squeezed his shoulder, and Paul raised his head, finally, as Gene cleared his throat to speak.

“Hey. What’d you say dancing was earlier?”

Paul blinked, caught off guard enough that he stopped moving.

“Getting a feel for your partner. Mirroring them.”

“That’s right.” Gene exhaled. His fingers inched up past Paul’s shoulder, touching his cheek for a brief second before returning to his shoulder again. “Could you mirror something for me, then? Right now.”

“Yeah.” Paul had turned his head towards Gene’s hand. Was looking right at him, all big dark eyes and red lips. Red lips that were twitching up, suddenly, in the faintest ghost of a smile. “What do you want to—"

Gene inclined his head and met Paul’s lips with his own.

Paul kissed back instantly. Greedily. Gene was almost taken aback. It wasn’t ferocious so much as desperate, as though all his pent-up energy was suddenly given just a single release. Paul’s tongue licked across Gene’s lips for entrance before Gene could even get there first, hot and overwhelming. Gene dropped his hold on Paul’s hand to cup his smooth, soft jaw, fingers careful not to brush too far past it. His fingertips caught onto Paul’s curls, stiff with hairspray, yet they still somehow felt good against his fingers. The scent of his cologne, emanating off his hair and neck, was almost overwhelming, cologne and sweat and something else; for an insane moment Gene felt like he could almost smell the want on him.

Paul tightened his grip on Gene’s waist, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush. Gene’s hard-on was getting unbearable, pressing up against Paul nearly worse than no relief, because of all the things wasn’t. Gene couldn’t think straight. Could barely let himself remember who was kissing him so ardently, who he was kissing back, whose lipstick was smearing against his mouth and jaw and neck—

Gene only pulled back to get a breath in. Paul’s hand had sunk below Gene’s waist, groping at his ass through the leather fabric. Paul kept shoving his hips against him, friction that didn’t really quite manage to hit its target. Too much of a height difference. They could fix that. Fuck, they could fix that right here in the disco, in one of those basement rooms—he could fuck Paul there, against the wall, or on the floor; he didn’t care, anywhere. He murmured against Paul’s neck, lapping and kissing, not quite daring to leave a mark against his skin. Gene barely felt Paul’s ankle latch around his boot, almost as if he was laying claim, but it warmed him, nearly as much as Paul’s little hitches for breath, the needy press of his lips against his skin. Gene grunted, fingers tightening on Paul’s hair, intending on tugging him back in for another kiss when Paul’s expression shifted, dilated, glassy eyes suddenly going wide, whole body tight as piano wire. His foot went back into place on the floor, stiff as a soldier, hands seeming frozen on Gene. The color was starting to drain from his face.

“Paul? What’s wrong?”

It must have hit him. His brain must have caught up with his libido faster than Gene’s had. Gene started to let go, feeling his brow furrow, a little, hopeless shame twitching in his gut, but then Paul grabbed onto him harder, shaking his head.

“It’s not you. It’s not you, I swear.” One hand withdrew, just to point. Gene couldn’t follow Paul’s finger at first, with the slew of people, but finally he caught sight of the blond doorman from earlier, ushering someone forward, towards them. Someone cute, but not beautiful. Not a VIP. Someone he knew wouldn’t belong on her own here, any more than Paul did.

A small young woman with light brown hair.

“She’s here.”

[harryandhishook]

Don’t touch what isn’t yours! - Chapter 1

Fandom: Dream Daddy

Pairing: Damien x Robert

Setting: Maple Bay

Warning: Mentions of smut, Damien’s genitalia referred to as male, nothing much for this chapter

Summary: Damien has been dating Robert for a while and their life is becoming slowly more and more domestic but unfortunately, someone has been watching and doesn’t like it one bit.

Words: 1618

Requested: I remember seeing an old posts about some really dark prompts and I thought about the cult ending of Dream Daddy so I jumped at the chance ... then got really carried away (Btw, I wanted to contribute to the cult ending stuff so don’t @ me for this, normally I wouldn’t write Joseph like this)

Side note: This is a story I have completed and if it wasn’t for an anon jumping into my asks to see if I was okay then I would have waited longer to post this. Sorry for the absence for this time but everythings just piling up and I rarely get much time to myself if I’m not doing uni work (Which I graduated :D but I’m going onto a masters) or doing normal adult survival stuff so I hope this is okay.

First // Prev // Next

Perfect, everything was perfect, Damien had a perfect house, a perfect, if somewhat moody, son and a perfect, if slightly dysfunctional, boyfriend, everything was perfect … Maybe not perfect but close enough.

The bright morning light filtered through the curtains, flowing over the beautiful dark coloured carpet and slithering up to drape across the two lumps underneath the red silk sheets adorning the four-poster bed. Soft sounds of snoring filled the room as two men embraced as if their lives depended on it, one gruff and rugged while the other delicate and soft, complete opposites but fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw, maybe not the exact same picture but they go together nevertheless. Nothing could ruin the morning, nothing could interrupt their moment of bliss, nothing at all, except an alarm.

The blaring of Damien’s phone alarm caused the two men to stir, groaning from the rude awakening as the long haired prince of darkness sat up, his hair ruffled and tangled, the obviously two sizes too big, red V-neck shirt hanging off his shoulder as he looked around, his eyes still drooping while he observes the room, trying to get his brain into gear.

Moments of tiredly debating the inevitable wake up and letting his alarm play, Damien finally groggily reached over to his oak nightstand, swiping the screen and silencing the obnoxious disturbance. His hand shuffled around the wood, pushing his phone out of the way to grab his glasses and place them on his face.

Looking around, after giving himself the ability to see, he spotted something that quickly pulled a small smile across his face. Laying on the floor nearby the end of the bed was Roberts black leather jacket.

With a deep breath and his bottom lip between his teeth, the Victorian man carefully shuffled across the silk fabric of his bed, his bare legs slipping out of the covers and over the edge. Once his foot made connection to the fluffy carpeted floor, Damien peered over his shoulder to make sure that his other half was still deep in his slumber before finally pushing himself up.

Tiptoeing across the room, he carefully took the article of clothing in his hands, making sure that no noise could rouse his sleeping lover before slowly pulling the coat over his arms and holding it close to his body. The fading smell of Alcohol and Robert’s musk bombarded Damien’s nose causing the gothic dad to moan in happiness, letting a shiver course down his spine at the familiar aroma giving him a little boost for the day.

While Robert continued to sleep, Damien decided to get ready for the day. Looking over at the dark drawn curtains, he decided against letting the warm sun light up the room, his boudoir was dark but his lover was still asleep and he wouldn’t want to disturb that so he used the small amount of light flowing past the gaps to find his vanity, taking his ornate carved brush in between his long slender fingers and carefully pulling through his long black hair, luckily, the knots weren’t too bad after … last nights adventures … but still enough to make him wince. The Victorian decided to distract himself from the slight pain in his roots by reminiscing, well, more dreaming about Robert, thinking about their romance, thinking about their late-night escapades, thinking about Roberts hands, about his ruff voice about his…

He had not realised just how distracted he had gotten until he felt two strong arms wrap around his body from behind as some prickly stubble grazed his neck and a breathy deep voice whispered in his ear,

“Morning, love” another shiver shot down Damien’s spine as he squeaked from the sudden appearance of his lover, quickly he turned his head, hair swishing over his shoulder as he came face to face with the man he was fantasising about a moment ago,

“Robert, I didn’t hear you get up, darling, how, erm, how long have you been awake?” the goth asked softly, a slight nervousness laced in his voice as he realized just what state of dress he was in, Roberts shirt, Roberts Jacket and nothing else, he was practically naked. His thoughts were interrupted by a low gravelly chuckle,

“Long enough to watch you practically drool over me” he smirked as he wrapped one arm under Damien’s legs, lifting him off the chair so he could sit down, placing the man onto his lap instead, “I woke up just in time to see you smell my jacket” he whispered with an underlining tone of lust but to Damien, he could also hear the love emanating from his voice.

The Victorian squeaked softly and quickly pushed his face into the crook of Rob’s neck, hiding his obvious blush, even in such a dark room, anyone could see the bright crimson gracing over the softer mans face,

“I-I wasn’t smelling it, I was just … reminding myself of your scent, there’s a difference, my dear” Damien argued back, his voice muffled by Robert’s tanned skin, unfortunately the sound of his phone vibrating with notifications stopped him from just hiding under the safety of his bed sheets, “I think my cellular is definitely taking away the aesthetic of my lifestyle” he chuckled softly, peeking out from his little safe spot, moving his gaze as best as he could to see that his lover was staring lovingly down at him,

“I think you wearing my leather is definitely taking away from the look … but it suits you, makes you look a little … rebellious” he smirked as his eyes seemed to move over every inch of the Victorians body until they stopped, Damien watched curiously, following his gaze until he saw exactly what he was staring at.

With a gasp, Damien pulled the red shirt down his legs further, keeping anything out of view as he tried to keep himself composed, unfortunately, the damage had been done and Robert now had the image of Damien’s long, slender legs nestled over his as the red shirt crumpled up his body and revealed … a little too much of his body,

“Robert, as much as a part of me would love to recreate the events of last night, I’m afraid I am under dressed for the day and you must remember, some of us must leave the home for our place of work, so I really do need to go and bathe before Lucien awakens so I can at least provide him breakfast” he tried to argue but it got harder and harder to want to when he felt the familiar feeling of large, rough hands creeping up the inside of his thigh, “a-as I already seemed to h-have wasted some time, my morning bathe will need to be cut shorter t-than usual” he stuttered out, feeling Robert’s hand push past his and under the red shirt, creeping closer and closer to his little treasure, “I n-need to make breakfast a-and make sure I have e-everything and … R-Robert...” he partially moaned out as he felt the fingers of his lover touch the crease connecting his thigh and something that was still quite sensitive, “I-I need t-to get r-ready and I’m already s-sensitive enough a-as it is…” he whispered in the other man’s ear, his breathless argument only made Robert smirk more, his fingers dangerously close to his prize,

“You always seem to give yourself a good few hours and never use it all in actually getting ready, so a little fun before you do get ready shouldn’t be too bad and anyway” Robert’s thumb and forefinger wrapped around Damien’s little dick, rubbing gently, “how about, to help you save time and not have to rush, I join you in the shower?” he asked with the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he watched Damien’s expression change to sheer pleasure, he took it as a win. Earning a whine from the goth as he removed his hand, his arms once again snaking underneath Damien’s legs but this time it was to carry the softer man into the en suite bathroom, spending the next half hour giving Damien a reason to think about him all day … and probably giving Lucien a wake up call.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, Damien managed to get ready for work in time, breakfast was made with enough time to spare for both him and Lucien since the boy still had school and even though he refused to look either his father or Robert in the eye, probably from the inappropriate wake up call, he gave them a smile before he left. Damien and Robert kissed each other goodbye as they left to go their separate ways with a promise of meeting up again after the Victorian came back from his probably quite exhausting job and that was how the day went.

Finally, when the end of the day came, Lucien was first home like always, stomping to his room to play his obnoxiously loud music, Robert decided it was around time to head over to wait for his lover and also be uncharacteristically nice enough to start dinner for them all to give Damien a little break and once the man in question was home, Robert was there waiting by the door, bouquet of flowers in hand and a warm smile on his face.

However, unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes were watching them from a distance, a pair of dark, hate filled eyes, glaring at them both while hatching a plan for them because if someone were to have Robert, it wasn’t going to be Damien.

[sleepywinchester]

Behind The Story S2 | Pt. 24

Summary: It’s time for Y/N to make some tough decisions. Will she make the right one for herself and her family?

Author: sleepywinchester (prev. deanwinchester-af)

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Jared, Gen and Cast Cameos.

Pairings: Single!Jensen x Actress!Reader (Nina Dobrev = Faceclaim)

Words: 2,295

Beta: N/A

Warnings: none really :)

Disclaimer: NO HATE TOWARDS DANNEEL! We wuv her in this acc but this is just for science lol

Visual Credit: @musemisha​

Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND SURPRISE! I’ve had this chapter in my docs for God knows how long... I kept telling myself I would upload when I felt it was ready (and the last chapters were done) but I just wanted to share. I really hope you guys like this.  ♥

Title: Though Decisions 

MASTERLIST

The air inside your hotel suite was chilly and pleasant.  Halsey’s songs filled your hotel suite as you packed everything into reusable boxes. Shooting season for Arrow was finally over and it was time to go back home for good. It was bittersweet to pack what you have been calling home for the past couple of months but you were more excited about going back to spending more time with your family. Working on two successful TV shows began to wear you off after a couple of months into shooting. It was a complete surprise when the part as Cat woman for CW’s superheroes universe was a total hit, making you stay extra months on the show. At the beginning when you took this gig, they only spoke about shooting for a couple of weeks, max a month but your character got so popular that the couple weeks turned into a couple of months.

The deep talk you had with Stephen a couple of months ago had left you thinking about your future. Months have passed but it still roamed through your mind. Being cat woman was a dream come true, being able to perform such a powerful and fun character was a milestone for your career but sometimes you asked yourself, is it all worth it?

Suddenly you heard the voice of your favorite man and all the weight from the worries drifted away. Jensen’s deep and beautiful voice sounded through the speaker. 

“Babe?” Jensen’s real-life voice. 

You spun at the sound of Jensen’s voice coming from the door. You’ve been waiting for Jensen all night to get here for SPN Convention in Toronto. You’ve also been waiting for him to help you move all your stuff back home in Austin.

“Jensen?!” You screamed giving in to the urge to jump on his arms. 

Jensen caught your body, holding your legs that were crossed around his body. He laughed loudly, taking a moment to kiss you. “Hey.”

“I’ve missed you so damn much,” you replied, still on his arms.

He looked down for a second. “I see,” he smirked.

You both chuckled before he put you down on your own feet. 

Jensen just had finished shooting week for Supernatural and took a flight to meet you in Toronto. When you just finished shooting for Arrow and was ready to move back home.

“Is everything already packed?” Jensen looked around as he took his jacket off. There was a surprise in his eyes and that made you chuckle. 

You shrugged shamelessly, “Yeah.”

“I thought I was going to help you,” he looked at you with an eyebrow perked up. 

“I know,” you grabbed his jacket, “but I got bored and… you know how I am.” You placed the jacket into the closet, where the only clothing items are three outfits that will last you through the convention weekend and moving day.

“In that case, whatcha’ think if we go down to SNS? Everyone is there, even Jared and Gen.” Jensen’s look and proposal were highly tempting, given the fact that you haven’t seen the gang or had fun in a long time. 

“You know what… Let’s go. Let’s have fun.” 

Jensen instantly hugged you and kissed you when you accepted. “That’s my girl.” Grabbing quickly his suitcase, murmuring that he was going to take a quick shower before. 

You smirked following his lead into the bathroom because you also needed a quick shower after so much packing. Once Jensen saw you walk into the bathroom he understood what it meant.

 He was shirtless, standing in front of the wide shower door, beginning to get wet from the shower, “I guess we can skip the first few songs.”

“I guess so,” you purred, kissing his lips with passion.

/ / / 

“Get your ass down here, ASAP!” Jensen shouted, “Says Rob and Jared.”

You chuckled walking into the living room, your husband turned his head towards your direction. Jensen’s jaw-dropping instantly the second he took a full look of you. 

“Damn,” he whispered to himself. “Babe-,” he said as he stood up from the couch. “You look-”

As he tried to speak his emotions you grabbed the leather jacket resting on the chair and put it on, making sure your hair was messy yet stylish at the same time. You were wearing a deep v neck black blouse and tight dark skinny jeans. Jensen sighed harshly, 

“smoking hot. Are those real leather?” He touched your thigh-high leather boots, pressing on your thighs and giving you a sexy look as he did so.

You smirked kissing his lips and saying, “Yes.”

“Mmm,” he licked his lips, “do we have to leave?”

“Yes! If we don’t appear now, I assure you, they will come looking for us.” You told him walking towards the door. 

“But you look so good!” He shouted following your steps into the elevator.

Once inside you grab him by the collar of his leather jacket. He was holding you closely and kissing your lips and neck. It was like you two were too horny teenagers that couldn’t stop touching each other. 

“Get a room you two!” Jared’s voice suddenly joined.

You and Jensen instantly groaned while still extremely close to each other. “Should I just hit the closing doors buttons?” Jensen asked you, completely ignoring Jared’s presence.

Looking at Jared standing in the middle of the doors you shake your head, shifting your eyes back to your favorite stud. 

“Na’, we said we were going to have fun,” you told Jensen.

“I have a lot of ways we could be having fun… Upstairs. In our bed. Naked.” Jensen replied. 

Listening to Jared’s annoyed sigh was extremely amusing. “Seriously guys?” He said. 

“What?” You and Jensen fake snapped at the same time.

“Everyone is waiting for you two horny assholes,” Jared replied. “Including Rob’s impatient ass.” 

Going back to Jensen you sighed, cleaning the red lipstick off his lips. “We can continue what we started later.”

“Promise?” He holds your hand. 

“Mhm,” you kissed his lips. 

“Oh my God,” Jared rolled his eyes and began walking towards the green room. 

You and Jensen laughed once again, it was truly amusing to see him annoyed at the extreme PDA you and Jensen were having. It’s been a while since you could annoy Jared. It’s also been a while since you’ve seen him. Walking into the green room, you and Jensen were greeted by everyone. They were all excited to finally see you after such a long time. 

“You look so hot!” Brianna said with excitement. 

You gave her a big smile, “You too, babe!” 

You two turned heads towards Jensen who cleared his throat. 

“You too, Jensen. You always look hot as fuck,” Brianna told him and he instantly laughed. “Honestly, you two look like rock stars. It’s so hot, I can’t stand it.”

“Yeah - These two look like horny rock stars. They were making out hard in the elevator.” Jared joined the conversation with Gen by his side. 

You winked at your best friend who looked gorgeous as always. 

“Let them be,” Gen said, “They haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”

“Exactly!” Jensen shouted, holding you closely by your waist. He looked at you in the eye, “Let us be.” Kissing you in the lips after finishing the sentence. 

“Where’s my husband?!” Brianna jokily shouted. 

“Home with your kid,” Kim joined. “So - switching this fuckery talk. What are you guys singing?” 

You rose both eyebrows, “Who said anything about singing?” 

Jensen slipped off your side and walked away for a second, leaving you alone with a glaring Kim. She raised her eyebrows at your response and shakes her head. 

“You’re telling me you both came downstairs to SNS and you are not performing?” Kim seriously glared at you and Jensen. “I call bull.”

You sighed, “Okay. I’ll sing but I need booze.” 

“I got you, babe,” Jensen he joined your side again with a cup of most likely to be whiskey and coke. “What song?” 

“Hmmm,” you thought for a second. 

You and Jensen were both wearing all black outfits with leather. It was obvious that both had highly flirtatious feelings that night. Yet above all that flirtatious sensations you both looked very badass and definitely like rock stars. 

“Wanted Dead or Alive?” You asked him with a smirk. 

Jensen returned the smirk, returning the look, “Let’s do it.” 

“Jensen you’re up! Whipping Post?” Rob strolled in from the stage.

“I’ll go first and then you join?” Jensen looked at you and you nodded as an answer. He kissed your cheek before walking out to the stage, making the fans went wild and scream. They were seriously not expecting him. 

“You guys look like two honeymooners,” Gen said.

You grinned, “I feel like a honeymooners. A lot of changes are going up and even though I feel bad for some of the decisions I’ve made, I know the future is going to be brighter.” 

Genevieve nodded agreeing with your words. “You’re doing it for your family and for yourself. I haven’t seen you this genuinely happy in a while.” 

“I haven’t seen myself this happy in a while,” you grinned again, having a sip of your whiskey. “It’s like everything is taking place since I decided to leave.” You looked around for a second, “Then at the same time, it feels bad that I won’t be part of this anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Jared joined. “You are a big part of everything Supernatural is. You are still part of the cast of the Supernatural family, of our family. Your place in this family is never going to change. You are Y/N Ackles and that is never going to change.”

Jared’s words made you think that you may have been overreacting the consequences of your choices. He was right, it didn’t matter what happened or what decisions you made, you were still part of this family. 

“Thank you, guys.” You told them.

At that moment you heard Jensen finishing up Whipping Post. 

“Thanks, y’all,” he spoke through the mic, “I’m going to stick around and do one more…” 

You chuckled at the crowd screaming with excitement in response.

“I’m gonna ask to have some help from a friend  of mine…” Jensen said. “Honestly she’s more than a friend if you guys know what I mean.” At that moment everyone screamed even louder, it was obvious they were making assumptions it was you. “She’s the myth, the legend, Y/N Ackles everyone.” 

Jensen saying your name was a queue for you to walk out of the curtains with the microphone on hand. The camera flashes increased as your big smile did. You gave Rob a hug and waved at the band, followed by a kiss on Jensen’s lips and then glanced at the crowd. 

“Hey, y’all,” you spoke. 

The energy in that room was warming and filled with so much excitement. They were good vibes and you missed that. They were happy to have you that night and you were excited to be there with them. It’s been a long time since you attended an SNS concert. 

“Ain’t he a rockstar?” You pointed at Jensen smirking. 

At that moment the band began to play the intro of Wanted Dead or Alive.

“Can you feel it?!” Jensen shouted as he moved by the rhythm of the band. You and Jensen were doing the same movements and laughed at the moment you two realized it. 

“It's all the same, only the names will change

Every day, it seems we're wastin' away

Another place where the faces are so cold

I drive all night just to get back home,” Jensen looked at your eyes and winked.

“I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted-,”

“Waaaanteeed,” you sang the melody. 

“Dead or alive…” Both of you sang together, “Wanted dead or alive”.

You prepped to sing the next verses.

“Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days

The people I meet always go their separate ways

Sometimes you tell the day

By the bottle that you drink

And times, when you're all alone all you do is think

I'm a cowgirl, on a steel horse I ride,” you moved your hips.

“I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive

Wanted (wanted) dead or alive

Oh, and I ride

Oh, and I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride,” you and Jensen sang the chorus together.

“I'm wanted dead or alive

I walk these streets

A loaded six-string on my back

I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back

I been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall

I've seen a million faces

And I've rocked them all,” Jensen sang the verses.

As he sang the verse you dance and backed him up with the melodies. It was one of those moments where you felt like a complete rockstar and sang your heart out in that stage. 

For the last chorus, you and Jensen stood face and sang.

“I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride

I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive

I'm a cowboy, I got the night on my side

I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive

And I ride, dead or alive

I still drive (I still drive) dead or alive

Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive”

The feeling of ending a song was always electrifying. You much needed that after months of not performing in SNS. The song was over but the crowd wasn’t over, they were clapping and screaming. You laughed and smiled at them. 

“I’ve missed y’all,” you said, “see you guys tomorrow? Gold Panel?” 

You received more shouts and took that as a yes.

“Goodnight,” you said leaving the stage with Jensen. 

________________________________________________________________

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