#shes closeted and its bad. enjoy

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers seeing their future S/O for the first time

Part 1

Including: Billy Loomis, Bo Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Lester Sinclair, Stu Macher & Vincent Sinclair.

Warnings: Mentions of death, slashers being slashers. This page is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: Okay this is my first post on here so any and all feedback is welcome! Also, there will be a part two, I will be including all the slashers I write for I just got a bit carried away and I thought it was a bit long for one part lol. Second part will include Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire and Jesse Cromeans.

Billy Loomis:

· This was meant to be an easy kill for Billy. Some geek that showed up at a party he shouldn’t have been at, Billy had been watching him for most of the night when he saw his target getting ready to leave. He started heading to the closet he hid his Ghostface costume in when someone crashed into him spilling their drink all down the front of his shirt.

· Billy was in two minds about whether he should give them a piece of his mind or ignore their apologies and sneak away anyway. But as he looked up whatever reply he had planned got caught in his throat. When he looked into your pleading eyes he could immediately tell how bad you felt. He didn’t realise he was staring until he noticed you were waiting for a response.

· He regains his composure and brushed off your apologies, telling you not to worry about it. You seemed relieved and he couldn’t help but smirk at how you looked around the room frantically. “Lost something?” he finally asks you, “Am I that obvious?” you laugh before holding your hand out, “I’m Y/N, Randy’s cousin.” Billy seemed to stare at your hand for a second before taking it in his and introducing himself. Maybe just this once he’d let the target go and find something worth enjoying.

Bo Sinclair:

· Getting out of the beat-up truck Bo winced as he felt the pain in his arm of the wound that hadn’t fully healed just yet. Lightly holding the spot and remembering how one of the victims had cut him good with that knife. He sighed and shrugged the thought off before walking towards the dimly lit bar. Sitting down on one of the stools and ordering a beer.

· He soon becomes aware of a man groaning angrily at one of the nearby pool tables, “There aint no way you're winning again without cheatin’” he hears the man grumble. Bo’s fairly accustomed to the usual pool bets but what does surprise him is the feminine laugh he hears in response, he turns around to see you bent over the table lining up your next shot. He feels his throat dry up at the sight of the position you’re in and the teasing smirk that’s on your face.

· “Don’t be a sore loser Jimmy,” you laugh before sinking yet another ball into its socket. Bo can barely take his eyes off you as he leans back taking another sip of his beer. You and the man seem to go back and forth in arguing about the game, and he feels like he could watch you all night. The game is coming to an end with you clearly winning, before he even thinks about it Bo has downed the rest of his beer and is walking towards you. As you’re lining up your final shot Bo slams down a couple of bills on the side of the pool table, you look up at him and he flashed his signature grin at you, “I’ve got winner,” he says as he looks you up and down. You sink your last ball before turning back to him, “You’ve got it handsome,” she smirks. Oh, you were trouble, and Bo couldn’t wait to see how this night turned out.

Jason Voorhees:

· It had been a quiet week for Jason, no campers, no teens, nothing. He had been out collecting wood for the fire when he found a small stone, he liked collecting bits and pieces from around the woods. Small knickknacks to decorate the shabby cabin he called home. The stone had five points and could be seen as almost the shape of a star, what Jason didn’t realise was he had spent far too long invested in the stone to notice someone walking on the trail nearby. The snapping of some sticks broke him out of his thoughts as he saw a figure nearby.

· Jason quickly shoved the stone in his pocket before walking silently to a spot where he could watch the trail without being spotted. He watched you from afar for a while, seeing you look around you as you made your way down the path. The way you watched the nature around you with a small smile on your face made Jason feel a warmth inside him. He followed you all the way to the camp grounds. You seem surprised to find the open space on your trip. You sat down on one of the stone seats before unpacking some lunch for yourself.

· It wasn’t long before you had gotten up and were walking around the small opening. It was then that Jason heard you speak for the first time which caused him to tense in fear. “Hey there little guy.” That was it, you must’ve seen him. He froze as you stepped towards his hiding spot only to stop a few feet in front of where he stood, where he thought he was hidden by the shrubs. But you weren’t looking at him to his relief, he saw the small squirrel perched on a branch that seemed to have your attention. He felt himself relax as he noticed this before trying to silently move further to the other side of the clearing.

· To his surprise the squirrel hadn’t run away, he must’ve smelt the food in your hand as he stood hesitantly sniffing the air. “You hungry?” you asked him rhetorically before holding out a small piece of crust for the squirrel and placing it on the branch near him. Jason watched and couldn’t help but melt at your kindness, he heard the familiar voice in his head but this time the voice was calm, telling him you needed protection, you needed him. But how was he supposed to approach you. A few minutes passed and you turned back to your seat, walking over you noticed something had now been placed where you once sat. You picked up the small stone, noticing it was shaped like a star. You looked around for someone before looking back at the stone, a small smile on your face. It warmed Jason’s heart as he prepared himself to find you more gifts.

Lester Sinclair:

· Lester found himself almost zoning out as he drove down the all too familiar road, the predictability of the same turns and sights that he saw every day seeming to get on his nerves today. Until he noticed a car on the side of the road, he hated his part in this, he tried to just shut himself off from it and think of whoever the poor bastard was that wandered their way as just a stranger, a nobody with no identity. It helped that they were usually rude to him, at least that way he felt less remorse for them. He couldn’t see the person that was hidden under the hood, probably uselessly trying to figure out what was wrong with their car.

· “Looks like you could use a hand.” He didn’t expect the slight squeal from whoever was behind the hood before you walked out, “oh gosh you gave me a fright,” you giggled. Lester was trying to pick his jaw up off the floor and string a sentence together, you definitely weren’t the first young lady to come through these parts but he sure thought you were the prettiest. “Uh, sorry ma’am.” He gulped before wracking his brain for words, “I saw you stuck here and thought you could use a hand.” You sighed before closing the hood, “Unless you happen to have a fanbelt on you, I don’t think so,” He felt the slight dread creep up as he remembered the scenario, he hesitated before spilling his usual script about taking you to see Bo. Of course, you agreed, having no other option and climbing into his truck.

· Not long into the drive you spoke, “I’m Y/N by the way,” he nodded before realising you were waiting for a response, “Oh, I’m Lester,” he responded. “Lester,” you repeated with a smile, he couldn’t help the feeling in his stomach when you repeated his name. “Well thank you very much Lester, I definitely owe you one for driving me all this way.” The more you spoke the worse he was starting to feel, you seemed kind, you were nice to him which was a welcome change, you laughed along with him instead of at him, you didn’t deserve the fate that you were walking into. As you neared Ambrose he realised he couldn’t let you die, he didn’t know how yet but he would do everything he could to keep Bo from hurting you. He knew life was going to be anything but predictable with you around

Stu Macher:

· Stu groans when the bell rings, his least favourite subject and it was the first lesson of the day. “You coming Stu?” He looks at Randy as he seems to think it over, “Nah, we’ve got Evans, I don’t need another detention from that douche.” Randy just rolls his eyes as Stu starts walking in the opposite direction, he hears Randy grumble some smart-ass comment to himself as he walks away.

· Stu was about to turn towards the entrance when he heard you curse to yourself, he glanced at you before turning the corner. “Woah,” he stopped in his tracks before backing up back into the hallway and looking you over again. You must be new, he definitely would’ve remembered you if he had seen you before. You're too engrossed in the paper in your hands to notice someone coming up to you and leaning against the lockers. He puts on his cheesiest grin before getting your attention “Hey there,” you almost jump out of your skin as you drop your books.

· “Oh man I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Stu apologises as he crouches down and begins to pick up your things, you join him in picking up your books, “No don’t be, I should’ve been paying more attention,” you give him a soft smile before standing back up as he passes you some of your belongings, “You must be new, haven’t seen you around here,” you just nod before continuing, “actually, i’m having some trouble finding my class,” he looks over the schedule you had been engrossed in. “Oh that’s actually where I’m headed, I can take you if you’d like,” he couldn’t help but smile at the way you beamed up at him as you agreed.

· The walk was filled with Stu making you laugh, as you neared the class he seemed to slow down and began talking to you again. “You know, I’d be happy to show you to your other classes if you need help finding them after this?” you agreed and he walked into the class with you. A big smile on his face even after being reprimanded by your teacher. “I thought you weren’t coming,” Randy whispers to him, “Yeah something changed my mind,” he replied, not taking his eyes off you. Maybe this class was worth showing up to.

Vincent Sinclair:

· Vincent had been in the museum, positioning his newest artwork. He stared at it with a slight tilt of his head, questioning every stroke, every pose and every colour. He couldn’t help it, he knew he was good at what he did but insecurity still nagged at every decision he made. He was in his own world when the creak of the front door broke him out of his stupor. Bo had told him a small group of victims would be heading down to the museum while he worked on ‘finding’ a fan belt for them. Vincent was quick to move to his usual hiding spots to watch them.

· Vincent hated how loud this group was, joking and making fun of his art. “You have to be pretty sick to make any of this.” One of the guys spoke up, Vincent immediately started thinking of how he would hurt this man. It wasn’t until a softer voice spoke up that he noticed the girl trailing at the back of the group, “Come on guys, don’t be so rude. Someone must have put a lot of effort into these.” It was then that Vincent could finally make out your form, you seemed quiet even when speaking up for him, defending his work. Vincent wished he could get a better look at you. The man scoffed, “Okay art freak.” Vincent saw the way you practically flinched at the insult before turning away from the group to go and look at some other pieces.

· Vincent felt angry, the man would definitely suffer. He made his way closer to where you were, staying hidden as he watched you from afar. He could tell the insult had hurt you and this only made him angrier. You seemed to pause as you squinted closer to the art work on the wall, brushing some dust off the framing. “Vincent,” you read the signature to yourself with a small smile on your face, Vincent stilled when he heard you. He wasn’t sure what it was but something about hearing you say his name struck a chord in him. He was more than intrigued by you, he felt drawn to you in a way he had never felt before. He wasn’t sure what this meant but whatever it was he knew Bo wouldn’t like it.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part two | part four

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms resting against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[slytherinboysvip]

Surprise| T.N

summary; it’s a surprise with a romantic Theo, and some annoying friends

(sfw, fluff? kissing) loosely based off of an older request, but can’t find it :<

It wasn't strange for your boyfriend to mysteriously wonder off after dinner at the great hall, in fact it was almost nightly when he did whatever it was that he did, you didn't want to assume it was smoking for your own state of mind.

It was a bit stranger this night however, he seemed to hurry off quicker than usual but you decided not to think much of it just continuing on to your dorm as per usual.

Walking into the common room Pansy immediately popped up from her spot on the couch and scurried toward you, "Y/nnn! I have some new muggle makeup I'm dying to try on you, come on" She didn't give you much of a choice, yanking your arm to her dorm "Slow down Pansy I'm coming” You semi protested but still excited

𓆙

"Hm, this makeup is cute but It's missing an outfit. Let's get you out of this awful uniform go properly execute my vision!" Pansy clapped her hands together and ran to her closet, throwing out a black mini skirt and a simple dark green sweater. "I think just the makeup alone is cute" I admired my mascara in the mirror.

"Just change!!" She huffed pushing the clothes into my lap. "Fine but after this I'm running far away from this madness" | exaggerated, walking to the restroom to change. I won't admit it to her face but she was right, this outfit made my makeup look so much better.

I walked out and Pansy immediately smiled "You need to go walk to the black lake miss" She squealed. I raised my eyebrow suspiciously "What exactly do you mean?". You couldn't think of any reason why you'd need to go to the black lake, especially when the sun is setting.

"Trust me Y/n, it's worth it" She winked, once again shoving me out the door. “Fine but just do you know I’m keeping this outfit!”. You contemplated whether or not to actually go but there's no harm in it only feeling a bit weird in your outfit and makeup.

𓆙

As you got closer to leaving the castle Theo jogged up to you and snaked his hand around your waist pulling you in "Amore Mio, you look beautiful" He spun you around, kissing you at the end. "How did I get so lucky, bella"

You looked up at him blushing "You're not so bad yourself you know" winking at him and giving him another kiss. "You know what's weird? Pansy told me to go to the black lake right now that's why I'm even here". Theo looked at me and smirked a bit before he straightened his face "No idea, let's go check yeah?"

He intertwined our hands and we started walking just enjoying the crisp air, feeling perfect with the sun nearly set "It feels amazing out here" You smiled up towards your boyfriend, "Its the perfect weather for something romantic don't you think?" He smiled a bit, and you gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?" Still confused you waited for him to respond before he turned your body towards the lake revealing a few candles, and a small picnic blanket with your favorite snacks."Solo il meglio per il mio unico e solo"(only the best for my one and only”)

"Go on principessa, I want you to enjoy it all".Theo directed me towards the blanket and we sat down beside eachother. Examining everything he got you noticed a little jewelry box at the bottom of the picnic basket and you picked it up, "Teddy what's this?" You began to open it and he smiled wide without saying a word

Your eyes lit up the second you saw a diamond heart necklace with a pink stone in the middle,"Go on and turn it around too"; Doing as he said you saw T.N engraved on it, the period being a smaller heart. "Thank you so much I love it! I love you!" You lunged onto Theo giving him a big kiss.

"Now turn around so I can get this on that pretty little neck of yours baby." His hands brushed up around your neck and lingered for a moment "Hold you hair for me Amore". His rough hands made their way delicately around your neck with the necklace and clasping it together, turning you back to him with his hand wrapped on your neck "Perfetta." (perfect)

"So was pansy in on this all?" | looked up at him smiling still so happy about all of it "No she just saw me setting up and made me let her help, I'm glad I did though you look gorgeous, La mia bella ragazza"(my beautiful girl). You blushed at all of his compliments and rested your head onto his lap looking up at the stars, theo's hand stated softly stroking your hair and you noticed him staring at you.

You tried ignoring his stares but you couldn't help yourself from blushing and you can tell he caught on by the small chuckle he let out, "Stop starring!!" Your face was getting redder by the second and he wouldn't stop nor stop laughing.

During this process he somehow managed to tackle you onto the blanket and shower your face in small pecks “I".."Will"..”Never".."Stop".."Starring". Each word separated by a kiss making you laugh and attempt to push him off, it was all fun till you two heard laughter from afar.

Both looking up to see Draco, Enzo, Blaise, And Mattheo all fake barfing. Enzo and Mattheo doing fake kissing with themselves, Draco gagging, and Blaise enjoying it all. "Fuck off!" Theo yelled flicking them off annoyed returning swiftly to kissing you disregarding them completely.

"Ew we're still here" Mattheo fake barfed "Not the fuck anymore" Enzo shuddered walking away with the rest of them following. "Annoying pricks"

Theo shook his head, "Now back to my girl" He smiled pulling you in for a kiss.

Let me know if you enjoyed this or not!! I’m honestly good with smut but I need to work on fluff 😭😭 So take this as some of my practice <3

[azzibuckets]

anything you want [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: fluffy blurb based off this moment last year when paige dressed azzi in her entire outfit at the sza concert then lent her her jacket

a/n: dedicated to @clairosrealwife for messaging me on 4 different places asking for a new fic like the overbearing annoying ass she is

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

“Yikes.”

Paige, Jana, and Aaliyah peered through the doorway of Azzi’s room, all exchanging glances at the sight before them. Azzi was slumped on the floor, face down in a pile of clothes while shirts and sweaters were strewn all over her bed, furniture, and closet.

They’d been eating snacks in the kitchen before muffed groans had pierced the peaceful silence of the dorm. Azzi had been in a mood all day, and no one on the team dared to bother her when she was pissed off. But it was becoming hard to enjoy their Lays when Azzi was huffing and storming around in the other room, so they made a mutual agreement to approach the girl together by having strength in numbers.

“Azzarae,” Aaliyah said gently, always having a soft spot for her younger roommate. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find anything cute to wear for the concert,” Azzi groaned. “This is literally the worst day of my life. I failed my exam in accounting this morning and then I got a smoothie to console myself but then I fucking spilled the entire thing-,”

Paige glared at her teammates as they slowly started to creep away from the door. “Your girlfriend, your problem,” Aaliyah mouthed before she and Jana took off, giggling as they returned back to their snacks.

Fatties, Paige thought bitterly to herself before entering the room and shutting the door. “You know the entire team is scared of you whenever you’re mad?”

A small smirk slid its way onto Azzi’s face. “I know. They leave me alone for once. I get peace and quiet.”

Paige rolled her eyes fondly. She grabbed Azzi’s hand and folded it between hers, rubbing soothing circles across Azzi’s palm with her thumbs. “I got some new shit in the mail a few days ago. Come over and try them on?”

Azzi nodded gratefully. On their way out, Aaliyah and Jana were still laughing like hyenas, fingers flying across their screens as they texted the group chat about how they’d left Paige to her own devices. But as soon as Azzi sent them a withering stare, they both immediately shut up. “You’re such a pussy,” Jana whispered to Aaliyah. “You’re literally older than her.” Without looking up from her phone, Aaliyah jabbed Jana in the stomach.

Azzi made herself comfortable on Paige’s bed as the older girl started rummaging through some boxes in her closet. “Here.” Paige tossed a pile of plastic wrapped packages at Azzi.

Azzi’s hands hovered over the clothes. “You sure? You haven’t even gotten the chance to wear them yourself yet.”

Paige leaned down and pressed a kiss to Azzi’s neck, letting her lips linger on the sensitive pulse point that she knew made Azzi shudder. “Stop being so unselfish all the time,” she murmured, “or I’m gonna start making out with you and we’ll never make it to the concert.”

A rosy blush fell over Azzi’s cheeks. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” she admitted, tucking an unruly strand of blonde hair behind her girlfriend’s ear.

Paige playfully bit down on Azzi’s shoulder, earning a squeal from the dark haired girl. Smirking, she drew back and punched Azzi’s shoulder. “Try the clothes on, dumbass.”

“A full Supreme outfit outfit? Really?” Azzi wrinkled her nose in the mirror as she experimented with her shirt, tucking it in and scrunching up one side to see what would look best.

“It’s gonna be cold.” Paige tossed her a puffer vest. “This would go nice with the sweats.”

Azzi shrugged on the puffer vest. Tilting her head thoughtfully in the mirror, she rolled her shirt up to above her belly button, making it look like a cropped top. “Much better.”

“You tryna make people faint?” Paige complained, eyes glued to the shiny piercing on Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi grinned, hand gesturing across her body. “You like it?”

“You know I think you look good in everything.” Paige approached Azzi from behind, hands sneakily sliding under the vest to make contact with Azzi’s bare abdomen. Paige savored the way Azzi’s muscles contracted at her touch. “But you look better in this than I would, trust.” She nestled her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, her gaze meeting brown doe eyes in the mirror. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Azzi turned and planted a kiss on Paige’s cheek. “Wanna match? You can wear your other Supreme shirt?” She smiled at Paige, that goddamn smile reserved solely for the person she loved most in the world, and Paige had seen that smile and that dimple almost every day for six years now, but she swore her knees still went weak at the sight.

Paige’s thumb brushed the expanse of Azzi’s skin, dipping just below the waistline of her pants in a slow circle. “Anything you want.”

*********

“You know I can walk just fine by myself?”

Paige’s hands ghosted Azzi’s waist for the hundredth time that night. “I know.”

Thankful that Paige was behind her and couldn’t see her face, Azzi smiled. She would never admit it, but she loved whenever Paige got unnecessarily protective whenever they were in public, guiding her through crowds with a hand firmly planted on the small of her back. Their relationship was private to the point where they could never kiss or show affection in front of other people, but this was one subtle way Paige reminded Azzi of how much she loved her, and Azzi appreciated it.

“You’re shivering.” Azzi hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Paige pointed it out, but suddenly she could feel the late night chill in her bones despite the body heat radiating from the crowd pressed against them.

“I’m fine,” Azzi brushed her off. “I’ll go buy a hot chocolate or something later.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Paige murmured, hand reaching out to steady Azzi as she zipped up her girlfriend’s puffer.

“Can you guys stop being cute for once?” Aubrey grumbled from behind them.

Both of them ignored her.

When she noticed how Azzi was still trying to rub her hands together for warmth, Paige immediately took off her jacket and pushed it into Azzi’s hands.

“No,” Azzi insisted, trying to give the jacket back. “You’re literally in only a shirt Paige.”

“Well, I’m not cold at all,” Paige said stubbornly, refusing to accept the jacket. “Are you forgetting I grew up in Minnesota?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” Azzi lied.

Paige cocked an eyebrow. “So your lips aren’t trembling?”

Sighing in defeat, Azzi hesitated before slipping on the black coat over her puffer. Paige smirked, adjusting the collar so that it sat comfortably on Azzi’s shoulders. “Better?” she asked softly.

Azzi nodded, glancing around before bringing Paige’s hand to her mouth and pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles. “If you start getting cold I’m taking this jacket off,” she warned.

“I’m actually pretty warm,” Paige said breezily. “But I wouldn’t mind some extra body heat, if you know what I mean,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she huddled closer to her girlfriend, pressing her entire body against the blonde’s. Her fingers fumbled around before finding Paige’s hand and tangling them together.

“See? Perfect.”

[yinora-evergreen]

how do you think the spn boys ( Sam, Dean, Cas) would separately react to a reader who needs reading glasses. like it's boring long ass research time and reader just pulls out their glasses and the boys are like '??? when was this'. I just think it would be very cute 😭🫶

a/n: OMG YES!! i love this request sm <3 though personally i dont have reading glasses, i tried to make this accurate, i hope this is good T.T i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: Sam, Dean, Cas (seperately) x gn!reader

Dean Winchester

it was just another ghost case, a vengefull spirit that's pissed off, so ofcourse, you had to figure out who this ghost was, when they died and where the remains were burried.

you were in a small town, the ghost was killing people with what they feared, so far, there were three victims, one was a woman who was scared of heights, she got pushed off a building. the second was a man who was scared of tight spaces, he got suffocated in a closet, and lastly there was a young girl that was scared of deep water, and she drowned in the deep side of a pool, all over the span of a month.

Sam offered to go get you three some proper lunch from the local store, so you and Dean have to do most of the research, or atleast make a start on it.

Dean is making himself comfortable on one of the two motel beds, with Sam's laptop for research.

you sit down next to him, with a book on vengefull spirits, because you mentioned something about how this spirit could be a different kind than usual.

Dean glances at you for a second, a small smile on his lips, but quickly, his expression changes to one of absolute surprise as you whip out a pair of glasses and put it on, opening your book, though in the corner of your eye you can see him looking at you.

"what?" you raise an eyebrow.

"you have reading glasses?" Dean asks in a surprised tone.

"yeah, obviously" you glance at him.

"got a problem with that?" "what? no, no ofcourse not" he replies, though he has a teasing smile on his face, which makes you roll your eyes. yeah, he was so gonna use this against you for teasing.

Sam Winchester

its been over an hour since Dean said he was gonna go and check out the scene once more with Cas, and you and Sam are still sitting there in a motel room.

Sam has been researching for the past 45 minutes, on his laptop. you two are quiet, save for the occasional typing from Sam.

you made yourself a cup of tea, before sitting down at the small table in the room, pulling a book. you also pull out your reading glasses, putting them on and adjusting them slightly before flipping your book open.

Sam, being so engrossed on his laptop, doesn't notice for about 20 minutes, untill he looks up to ask if you've found anything, but the words die on his tongue as he looks at you, focused and reading... with glasses? since when?

"uh... did you find anything yet?" he ask with slight hesitation. he doesn't want to mention the sudden glasses, because what if you take offense? or get embarrassed? he doesn't want that, the least he wants is feel like an absolute idiot.

"no" you respond with a sigh, putting your book down and sliding off your glasses to be ontop of your head, grabbing your now room temperature tea, though you know Sam, and you can see in his eyes that he's confused about the glasses.

"i've had them for years, though they make researching on a laptop even shittier, and usually i borrow yours for research, so i don't put them on. besides, they don't do much for anything else, and i usually inspect the items we find at a scene, so, don't feel bad you didn't notice them before" you explain, smiling a little to yourself when he lets out a silent, relieved sigh.

"okay, okay, so i'm not a terrible boyfriend for not knowing you had reading glasses, good to know" he says with a slight laugh at the end of his sentence.

"you look cute in them, they suit you"

Castiel

Dean and Sam left to get dinner, leaving you in the motel room alone to research some more, because why not.

you were peacefully reading some newspapers, checking for any details you might've missed. the glasses you were wearing sliding down every once in a while, so you adjust them to sit back up on your nose properly.

you suddenly hear the sound of wings fluttering, and low and behold, Cas is standing across from you, though instead of the usual greeting, you're met with silence as you two look at eachother, the angel tilting his head to the side as he usually does when he's curious about something.

"....hello [name]..." he finally says, his eyebrows furrowing subtly.

"i didn't know you needed reading glasses." he mentions rather bluntly, making you smile.

"yeah, i know. you haven't been around much lately during research" you see him furrow his brows even more.

"i... think i should've known." he mumbles.

"isn't it normal for someone to know those things about their partner?" he asks you.

"yeah, but its not a big deal if you simply haven't noticed, its just a pair of glasses i barely use, its nothing to feel bad about" you say reassuringly.

[bansurii]

Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent. 

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box. 

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home. 

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift. 

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease. 

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…” 

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you. 

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become. 

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth. 

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion. 

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity. 

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach. 

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position. 

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest. 

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane. 

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies. 

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously. 

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure. 

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

[insomniakisses]

Closets and Creampies

Pairing: Lisa Manoban (Blackpink)

Reader Type: Gender Neutral (AFAB)

Warnings/notes: nsfw, Minors DNI, Cis hets DNI, creampie, G!P Lisa, Aka Lisa Has a dick, P in V sex, daddy kink, use of kitten as pet name, mentions of body hair.

You were on your way to your groups dressing room when you felt hands on ur waist and were tugged into a closet. A hand covering ur mouth when u went to yell out for help.

“Shhhh baby, its just me” a voice husked against your ear. But not just any voice this one belonged to your girlfriend Lisa. Who was currently grinding her bulge against you.

“Seriously!?” You turn to glare at her, “I’m on stage in 10 minutes! I can’t fuck you right now!”

She pouts a needy whine falling from her lips as she palms herself through her boxers. Only now your eyes have adjusted to the dim light can you see what shes wearing. A sports bra and her favourite pair of boxers. You can’t help but to blush when you take her in hand reaching to play with her happy trail on instinct.

“Fuck baby” she husks thrusting into the air, “Need you SO bad! I’ll be quick I promise” you can practically feel her desperation and nod placing a kiss to her happy trail and across her abs before pulling away to undress.

It doesn’t take long for you both to undress and for her to pin you against the door fucking into you with such speed and force that the door its self shakes and rattles. That paired with the loud moans and grunts the pair of you are letting out you know everyone is aware of whats happening in their.

Her thrusts get faster and faster and she groans your name nipping and biting your neck and shoulder as she thrusts deep, heavy balls smacking your ass and pussy hard every time. You can’t help the guttural moan you release every time they twitch against you or you feel how full of her cum they are.

You feel your legs start to shake as your orgasm rips through you but she doesn’t stop her thrusts, doesn’t even slow down she simply pulls ur legs up around her waist pinning you completely to the door. Her deep moans pairing with heavy pants as she feels her cock squeezed by your pussy, your wetness dripping down to her balls and she knows shes gonna cum soon her cock practically drooling pre.

Her grip tightens and her thrusts get sloppy and slower till she lets out a few deep moans, “Thats it kitten,” she groans head falling on your shoulder mouth against your ear. “Let Daddy fill you up, breed you till your round with pups”

You moan clawing at her back, “P-please Daddy!” You moan into her ear and thats all it takes shes cumming hard rope after role of thick hot sticky cum fills you and you gasp as another orgasm rips through you the tightness around her cock sending her over the edge again too and your both a moaning mess.

Once both of you are down from your highs she hums reaching for her bag from the shelves next to you, her body keeping you pinned in place. A Soft whimper leaving your lips as you see her pull out some breading tape, but she just shushes you softly.

You feel her pull out and secure the tape over your whole adding enough to also keep it in place and then she peppers your face with kisses.

“There we go baby, now your ready to go on stage”

You whine at her smirk and say its too much, every movement you feel your legs wobble and the sloshing of her cum inside you but she simply kisses your head, helping you back into your stage outfit.

“You’re going to go out there, and keep that tape on while you perform.” She grips your jaw forcing eye contact, her gaze hard. “Aren’t you kitten?”

You nod dumbly stumbling out of the closet to your group who are waiting for you, trying your best to keep in your moans and whines.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed the fic! :) also 🤠 anon, I chose lisa just for you ;)

[urlovebot]

Masterlist

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

bada lee ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ gf texts (1) ♡ gf texts (2) ♡ gf texts (3) ♡ gf texts (4)

♡ gf texts (5) ♡ gf texts (6) ♡ gf texts (7)

headcannons ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ bada as your gf ♡ corruption kink

♡ experienced bada ♡ bada pursuing oblivious reader

♡ bada + reader at the club ♡ bada + idol reader

♡ sub bada ♡ insecure reader sitting in bada's lap

full works ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

♡ tell your friends

→ cunnilingus. the use of a strap/harness. possessive bada hitting it from the back!

♡ takeout (on me)

→ pussy whipped bada lee taking you in several different positions.

♡ kissin' and hope they caught us

→ reader gets into their head alot, but bada is always there to reassure you.

♡ water

→ bath time with bada. aftercare but bada is h word on main still. fingering, praise, soft dom!bada.

♡ garden kisses

→ friends to lovers. a bit of angst in the beginning. cunnilingus. jealous bada. bada is bad at communicating feelings. some texts thrown in there. possessive bada. pussy drunk bada.

♡ attention

→ nothing too bad. actually, not suggestive! bada lee being fine as hell at your highschool reunion… y/n acting up per usual. really fluffy at the end. enjoy!

♡ my love is mine, all mine

→ severe anxiety/panic attack. bada comforts reader through an anxiety attack. bada best girl.

♡ luxurious

→ spoiled ass reader. down bad bada. suggestive. a little more than suggestive? not full on smut though. what does bada like more than checks? money!

♡ too close

→ angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though so don’t worry.

♡ all the time

→ sub bada. pussy fiend bada. bada is down so bad she is in hell. dom (?) reader. reader is a tease and bada is fed up lmfao.

♡ all mine

→ dumbification. throat fucking with a strap-on. EXTREMELY possessive bada. reader is a brat, bada is a brat tamer.

♡ dead man walking

→ light threats. mafia esque gambler bada. possessive bada (yall know thats my shit). smut. bada fingers reader.

♡ hold me

→ gp!bada… alpha bada… rough, possessive gf bada. fingering. knotting. lots of cum… mild marking. mentions of breeding and pregnancy…

♡ poison

→ degradation, mean dom!bada, choking… oh! g!p bada… again…

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

zerobaseone ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

୨୧ angry hanbin

୨୧ soft dom matthew

୨୧ domestic poly!haobin + reader

୨୧ zb1 being done with poly!haobin + reader

୨୧ misc poly!haobin + reader hc's

୨୧ riding zhang hao's face

୨୧ idol!reader turns zhang hao on during a performance

୨୧ sex with ricky hc's

୨୧ brat tamer ricky

୨୧ doggystyle + matthew

୨୧ waking up with haobin

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

enhypen ੈ✩‧₊˚

☆ 8:16am (lhs)

☆ 5:37pm (sjy)

☆ 11:32pm (sjy)

☆ sunghoon thinks you're pretty

☆ making brownies with sunghoon

☆ make up sex (sjy)

☆ brat tamer jungwon

☆ certified munch (sjy)

☆ quickie (sjy)

✩ nerdy loser bf! sunghoon

[justwinginglife]

Cross Your Heart

This is just a cute lil fic idea I've had in my head for awhile now. Mentions of mature scenes but no explicit details, try not to be sad about it.

You were never good at keeping secrets, but for Soshiro, you’d try. 

When you first started dating, you forged a pact of secrecy with him, joking that only when you were buried next to each other would people ever find out you were together. He had too much on his plate to deal with people hounding him about his relationship, and you didn’t certainly didn’t need anyone telling you that you only made Platoon Leader because your boyfriend was the Vice Captain. So the both of you kept quiet, stealing moments wherever you could, sneaking away to supply closets and back alleys to share a kiss, to share more than a kiss. 

At first, you enjoyed the thrill of secrecy, the rush of almost being caught. It added an extra layer of excitement to your relationship. And Soshiro was just as exhilarated as you, if not more so; it turned him on to watch you bite back your moans when someone would walk by, your body squirming and your face flushing, as you tried to keep quiet beneath him. He almost wanted to fuck you harder, just to see those gorgeous eyes widen, just to see your lips quiver, just to publicly expose what a mess he’d made you into. And when you realized what he was thinking, when you pouted, when you whined, when you chided him for being such a bad boy, he relished in it. 

Your relationship was nothing but perfect to him. He enjoyed having you all to himself, he enjoyed watching you reject officer after officer and not be able to tell them why, he enjoyed listening to the excuses you’d make to leave the room right after he did. He’d laugh to himself thinking about how you would attempt to hide it if he ever got you pregnant, and the thought only made him want to fill you up more. You’d already made a deal with him that when you got married, you’d both tattoo the other person’s initials onto your ring fingers together (because it was impractical to carry expensive jewelry with you into battle) and he amused himself with the thought of you trying to explain away the S.H. that had been engraved into your skin. Would you tell people it was the name of your dog, of a family friend? How would you explain its location on your ring finger? Would you wear gloves all the time just to try and hide it? He entertained himself to no end with all the possibilities. And so he was content with the way things were. 

You were astonished to find that for someone who talked so much, he kept a surprisingly tight lid on the whole situation. You always thought he’d cave first, that he’d down another beer, get too caught up in the moment, get too rowdy with his friends, and finally expose every detail of your relationship, big or small. You thought that whenever you got just a little too close to another man during training, when you laughed just a little too loud at their jokes, or brushed against their skin just a little too long, that he’d intervene, that he’d publicly lay his claim on you. And he did lay his claim on you. But only in the confines of his room, when you were alone together. He’d trail his marks all over your body, engraving his desires onto you with his teeth, painting your skin with his tongue. And then he’d have the audacity to be amused in the morning when you had to explain to the rest of the squad where you got the marks. 

He was in it for the long haul, he could keep this secret over his dead body. 

But you couldn’t. You caved.

And it was his fault. He'd say something cute, do something sweet, just be wonderful as per usual, and you’d be dying to tell someone, to tell anyone, to tell everyone about it. Your life was happy and you wanted people to know. 

So when Okonogi asked about where you got your new locket, you whispered to her, “Soshiro bought it for me, but don’t tell anyone, cross your heart, okay?” And when she raised an eyebrow at the informality in which you’d said his name, you couldn’t help but spill everything. 

When Reno caught you leaving Soshiro’s room, and -because he was so sweet and had so much respect for you- he assumed you were there for a training session instead of a different kind of session, you confirmed for him that you were in fact there to love on your boyfriend but, “Don’t tell anyone, cross your heart, okay?”

Then Shinomiya remarked that she wished she could meet Soichiro Hoshina because she was sure he’d be an entertaining sparring partner, and when you confirmed that he was indeed skilled and she questioned how you’d met him, you could’ve said that you’d met in a cross-division meeting, but you told her the truth- you had dinner with Soshiro’s family when you’d been introduced as his girlfriend and somehow ended up challenging Soichiro to a duel that same night. “But it’s a secret, don’t tell anyone, cross your heart.”

And then, little by little, more and more people found out about your relationship with Soshiro. It wasn’t like they were investigating, no one was hounding you for information, no one was threatening you for a confession, but you volunteered the details anyway.  

Haruichi wanted to know what the new tattoo on your wrist was? It was the day you started dating. 

Captain Ashiro wanted to know if you could deliver a message to Soshiro? No problem, you were staying the night at his place anyway. 

Iharu wanted to know how you were so flexible? You traumatized him with your answer but he got the idea. 

And you felt amazing. The weight of your secrets had been lifted from your shoulders; you had been freed from the burden of lies. You were practically skipping down hallways and singing from the rooftops now that your love was plain for everyone to see.

Except for Soshiro. He had no idea why you were acting so differently. He had no idea that even though you’d sworn half the base to secrecy, it was still half the fucking base and could hardly be considered secret anymore. But you were happy and that was all that mattered to him, so he didn’t ask. He just did his best to support you, to keep you happy. 

You almost thought he’d never find out. 

But then he got a raise and you were so proud of him, so happy his hard work was being recognized, that you kissed him in the middle of the cafeteria. 

His eyes widened and he froze on the spot.

“P-Platoon Leader L/N, what are you…” His eyes darted around the busy lunchroom to see if anyone had caught your blunder, but his words quickly trailed off when he realized that not a single soul was surprised. 

Okonogi even facepalmed. “And here I thought we were keeping this a secret.”

Hoshina coughed. “We? We’re keeping this a secret? Who’s we?? Who else knows about this??”

He almost had a heart attack when everyone simultaneously raised their hands; some rose it sheepishly and some rose it unabashedly, but all hands were raised in unison. 

He sighed. Then he turned to you.

“Sweetheart, I think we may need to revisit the meaning of ‘cross your heart,’” He chuckled as he finally regained his composure. 

You blushed. “In my defense, they all crossed their hearts?” 

He shook his head, “It’s a good thing I love you, baby.”

“I love you too! In case anyone was wondering!”

A collective bundle of laughs and snickers made its way through the crowd. 

“WE KNOW.”

[wardenparker]

American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. ��In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[baby-yongbok]

Puppy's Punishment

HardDom!Seungmin x Sub!Fem!Reader

🩶Genre: Smut, Porn no plot. 1% plot 99% disgusting 🥵

🩶Summary: How do you train a dog to not piss on the floor? Stick their face in it.

🩶A/N: I'm trying to write some different kinds of smut and thought I'd share. The idea came to me last night soooo here its is! Enjoy!

🩶Word Count: 2,290

‼️Warnings: Puppy Play, D/S Dynamics, Hair Pulling, Slapping, Spit, Cursing, Degradation, Piss kink, Rough sex, Cum eating/Swallowing, Mentions of breeding (Sorry If I missed any)

‼️Names Used Towards Reader: Pup, Sweet girl, Bitch, Mutt

‼️Names Used Towards Seungmin: Sir, Min, Seung

✨Masterlist✨

collar banner by: @benkeibear

“There's no point in hiding. I'm going to find you.” Seungmin's voice echoed through the quiet house as his bare feet padded across the hardwood slowly.

You were in trouble to put it lightly but this is exactly what you wanted. You and Seungmin had a unique relationship. In public you're the sweet silly couple, always teasing each other lovingly and cracking jokes with others. But at home it was different. You're his submissive, his pet. He is your dominant, your owner and a strict one at that. He has zero tolerance for disobedience so you make sure to be a bit bratty and break the rules from time to time, just to spice things up a bit.

“You can't hide forever, mutt.” You hear his footsteps nearing your hiding spot. You know that it's an obvious spot, you know that you'll get caught and that's exactly what you want. “What do we have here?”

You yelp in shock as he swings the closet door open, swiftly grabbing you by your foot and pulling you out of your ‘safe’ space.

“Looks like I found a spoiled, disobedient bitch in heat.” You whimper at his sharp words as he stands over you. His glare is dark yet amused. He's having fun with this.

“I didn't do it, sir.” You blink up at him through thick lashes, pretending to be oblivious to the cause of this chase.

“Really? So there's another mutt walking around here and pissing on the floor? You want to go with that story?” You bat your lashes, shaking your head at him and he clicks his tongue in response as he bends down to your level.

“When did my sweet little pup become a brat?” He reaches out to you, stroking your cheek gently with the pads of his fingers. He watches you with sparkling eyes as you melt into his touch. Savoring every second of attention.

“Ah, she wanted my attention, huh? My puppy missed me?” You nod your head softly yet fast enough to convey your urgency. “Bad girls don't get this kind of attention.”

His gentle touch shifts into a stinging pain as he slaps you firmly across your cheek causing a surprised whimper to escape you. Before you can look back at him his hand is in your hair. His nails scratch at your scalp as he grabs a fist full and pulls you forward onto all fours.

“Bad puppies get punished, you know that don't you?” He walks you by your hair, keeping his grip tight as he leads you down the hallway and over to the mess you made. You crawl as fast as you can to keep the stinging on your scalp to a minimum. You can feel your thighs getting slick and sticky with arousal as the moments pass.

“I trained you better than this, didn't I?” He stops you in front of the puddle you made on the living room floor. Pulling your head back by your hair to make sure that you look exactly where he wants.

“Yes, sir.” This was the game that you loved to play. Be a disobedient brat one second and then an angel the next. You knew that he loved it that way, he loved your fake innocence and the way that you'd submit to him once things were going according to plan for you.

“Do I need to drill the rules into you? Write them on my cock and fuck it into you?” You moan nearly instinctively and your dripping cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

“Yeah? My girl wants me to fuck the rules into her?” Seungmin's free hand pulled the hem of his sweatpants down just enough to free his hard cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. He let go of his grip on your hair, pushing your head forward a bit before he circled around to your rear and kneels. He slides your shorts and panties down your legs, leaving them in a pool around your knees. His fingers glide through your folds, prodding and teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“What kind of sick girl gets off on being in trouble? You like it when I'm mad at you, huh?” Your eyes roll back into your head at his teasing tone. He smacks your ass hard and you lunge forward a bit, nearly falling into the mess in front of you.

“I asked you a question, didn't I?”

“Yes, sir. I love it when you're mad at me.” He slides two of his fingers into you as you answer him. Your mouth falls open in a quiet gasp as he stretches you, curling up towards your sensitive spot and stroking the soft wall.

“This pussy is so swollen for me.” With his free hand he spreads your cheeks and licks a wet stripe over your asshole. A deep moan erupts from your throat as he rims your hole.

“Fuck.” He pushes his fingers deeper into your cunt, there's no possible way that he isn't nearly grazing your cervix.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He scissors his fingers inside of you and you bite your lip to muffle your moan.

“I'm sorry, sir.” He slides his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you empty and longing for him.

“Show me a trick.” He leans back onto his knees with a teasing smirk on his lips.

“I- I don't know -” Before you can finish your sentence his fingers are laced through your locks again. Pulling at the strands lightly before he pushes you forward, your cheek presses against the floor and you moan at the feeling of the cool liquid on your face.

“How about you beg?” He runs the tip of his dick up and down your cunt. Collecting your slick and teasing you simultaneously. “Beg me to fuck your face into your piss.”

“S-sir.” You squeeze your eyes shut as his tip runs over your clit at a teasingly slow pace. “Please fuck me. Fuck me into the mess I made. Punish me for being a bad puppy. Please, sir. I deserve it.”

His cock breaches your dripping hole slowly, sliding in at a torturous pace. “Ah, my sweet pup is in heat for sure. Cunt so wet.”

He takes his time bottoming out, his low grunts of pleasure sends shocks right down to your cunt as you take every inch of him. “You know better.” He pulls back quickly and slams his hips into you. You lunge forward, bracing yourself with one of your hands in the puddle beneath you.

“You know better than to fucking piss on the floor, don't you girl?” His tone is mockingly sweet as he starts to pound into you.

“Y-yes Sir, I'm sor-ry.” He finds a steady rhythm, fucking you at a rough moderate pace. His hand stayed laced in your hair, holding you down into the puddle.

“You see that? You see what you did? Are you going to do it again?” He picks up his pace a bit as he tries to literally drill his rules into you. You whimper at the change. Holding your breath for a second before you answer.

“No s-sir.” He angles his hips upward, hitting the perfect spot as you stutter your reply.

“Stay.” He hisses as he removes his hand from your hair and moves to grip your hips. He speeds up more, fucking into you at an ungodly pace. Gaspy screams escape you as you brace yourself against the floor. Your hair and forearms are wet with your mess as he pounds you.

“You could've gotten fucked like a good girl.” He spreads your cheeks enough to run his thumb over your asshole. “You could've asked for my attention.”

He spits down onto the puckered hole, spreading the wetness with his thumb before pressing into the greedy hole slowly. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp at the sensation.

“But you just had to be a disobedient bitch, huh? You had to make me punish you.” A moan follows his statement as you clench around him. He tilts his head back in bliss, taking in the warmth of your walls for a second. Your moans fill the air mixed with the sound of skin slapping as your orgasm creeps up your spine.

“Sir, I'm gonna-” You’re cut off by a deep groan from your partner. He leans over you. Pressing his front to your back and reaching around to rub your clit.

“The fuck you are, hold it, mutt.” He grunts in your ear as your cunt swallows him, contracting around him repeatedly as you fight to contain your climax. “Be a good girl for once.”

He hisses at you through clenched teeth as he grinds into you, kissing your cervix lightly with the perfect curve of his cock.

“Min- seung - sir, I can't, I'm gonna.” He spits down at you and you wince at his saliva hitting your cheek, you feel it as it runs down at mixes with the piss below you.

“If you fucking cum I will ruin you.” His threat comes out as a growl that sends shivers down your spine and pleasure to your pussy. You struggle to hold back as he abuses your clit, flicking the sensitive numb at a harsh pace.

“You're going to take my cum, aren't you, pup? You're going to let me breed you. M'gonna fuck my puppies deep into this cunt.” You cry out as you feel yourself start to tip over the edge. Seungmin feels your walls flutter around him and pinches your clit between his fingers.

“Do it, I dare you, go ahead.” You know better than to listen to him. He's teasing you. Your mind knows that but your body doesn't care. A wave of burning hot euphoria washes over you as you fall apart on his dick. Your body shakes as the intensity builds with each of his rough strokes. He continues to abuse your clit to his content, ignoring your desperate cries for relief.

“Sir, it's s-so much, so much.” You can tell that he's on the edge of his pleasure by how his breathing changes and how sloppy and sharp his thrusts are getting. His nails bite into your hip as he uses you. Ignoring your cries like you're no more than a toy for him to use.

“Take.It.” He punctuates his words with a harsh thrust and you can feel your high building again at the intensity.

“Fuck, baby, take it all. I'm gonna stuff this tiny cunt full of my cum, pup. Fuck, take it, take it all.” The fucked out growl in his tone nearly sends you over the edge for a second time. You feel his cock twitch in your pussy as his thumb pushes deeper into your ass, filling you up to his knuckle.

You moan as his hot cum spills into you, painting your walls white as it tries to escape your tight hole. Seungmin slows his thrusts as he comes down from his high, still maintaining a slow and deep rhythm.

“You like making messes?” He lets go of your hair as he sits up, pulling out of your cunt slowly. He watches as your pussy clenches and his cum seeps out of you, dripping onto the floor and creating another puddle beneath you.

“Sit up.” With a shaky breath you lift your head. The cool sensation of your piss dripping off of your hair and down your face and neck makes you shiver as you turn to face him. He looks down at the puddle of cum between the two of you. His eyes are dark and clouded as they meet yours. “Clean it up.”

You stare back at him with hazy fucked out eyes. There isn't a single thought in your head. The only thing that you know to do, want to do, is obey him. You place your palms on the floor, getting back on all fours and leaning down to lick your mixed arousal from the hardwood. The bitter taste of his cum mixed with yours floods your tongue and you moan as you take it in. Seungmin clicks his tongue as he watches you, a devious smirk on his face.

“You're a disgusting little bitch you know that?” You blink up at him with your tongue out, his semen dripping off of the tip. “Swallow”

You do as you're told immediately, taking the mixture down your throat and sticking out your tongue to prove that it's gone. He leans forward, grabbing your chin gently and dipping down to attach your lips. He kisses you gently yet hungrily. You allow his tongue to part your lips and taste the arousal lingering on your palate. You whimper against his lips, chasing him a bit as he pulls away.

“My sweet girl, you did so well.” He strokes your hair, ignoring the wetness and grins down at you. “Color?”

“Green.” He nods at you with a smile as his thumb strokes your cheek softly.

“That's my pup, listen, I want you to go get in the shower and wait for me, okay?” You furrow your brows slightly as you agree. “I forgive you for making a mess.”

He kisses your forehead but his grip on your chin tightens a bit as he forces your gaze on his.

“But you came without permission and I told you what would happen.” You gulp at the sting that his sweet tone carries. He smirks at you as your eyes search his, quietly begging for mercy but you can tell that you won't get it. Just like you want to mess with him he takes pleasure in punishing you.

“I'm gonna fucking ruin you.”

[primaviva]

PAIRINGS: gwen, miles (42!), hobie, pav, and miguel x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: astv characters and their s/o going to see barbie.

WARNING/NOTES: matching outfits, the mention of o-o-oppenheimer 🤢🤮, barbie photo ops, miguel being a mamón

— GWEN

i hate to say it so… but she wanted to watch oppenheimer first.

she sent you a text talking about sum “babe let’s see oppenheimer it looks good 🥰” and then you sent her a voice memo of gun shots from your gun sound simulator app and she understood she was wrong.

gwen thinks father of the atomic

it’s not like she didn’t wanna see barbie but she was like… it’s barbie

“babe cmon! you can’t tell me oppenheimer doesn’t look cool. what is barbie even about? is she gonna go on an adventure to find that old rubber high heel the little girl that owns her lost those many years ago? oooo so interesting.”

“do not mock me gwendolyn.”

you showed her the trailer as gwen showed you the oppenheimer trailer

in the end you both lost.

yeah… oppenheimer is a glorification a historical event that people don’t touch on the affects it had and rather the men behind it

and yeah… barbie having an existential crisis on what it means to be a woman and her place in the world sounded like it had potential

“i mean, yeah the trailer is kinda fire,” you admitted, weak in defeat.

gwen crossed her arms with a smirk of victory. “see! i told you that it looked cool,” she rubbed in your face before changing her expression, “but… barbie also sounds like it’s gonna be good. who says we can’t do both?”

you guys do barbieheimer.

and since you both were already gonna indulge in the internet craze… of course you played into it

gwen dressed in all black in this tux and even got the hat to match

you on the other hand wore all pink in tribute to barbie

she was FAWNING over you.

the cute outfit? the accessories? you in general?

you also couldn’t lie with how attractive gwen looked in a blazer I MEANNNN

she wore a bunch of rings on her hands and had a tie and all but she made it looser and looser until she just took it off and shoved it in her pocket before y’all left because it was annoying the shit out of her

“oh my you look so dapper,” you complimented, fighting back laughs from your choice of wording.

you watched as she smoothed down the blazer, shocked that she even had that in her closet. it was weird seeing her dressed like that and you couldn’t help but try to not look. it would be a bad night if she caught you peeking because yeah, you know she’s fine, but do you want her knowing that? to use that against you as leverage? hell. no.

gwen let out a laugh as she striked a pose, hands on her hips moving the sides of the blazer behind her to show off black waistcoat top. “really? you flatter me. aren’t you the bees knees yourself, babe.”

you cringed. hard.

her attempt at 1940 slang was where you drew the line and her shit eating grin didn’t help.

“gwen… dare i say gwendolyn again.”

she smirked. “yes, sugar lips?”

“i hate you.”

gwen was clearly feeling herself

you were too

and trust there was a photoshoot. and trust that it was gwen’s idea even if it was mostly her taking photos of you and her hyping you up crazy

“you’re gonna be the prettiest there babe. nobody can top my girl! not even barbie-”

“don’t be corny with me please…”

you guys decided to watch oppenheimer first and then end on a happy note with barbie

throughout oppenheimer you could see… even FEEL gwen’s eyes staring at the side of your head

she was just making sure you at least enjoyed the movie because it would break her soul if she forced you to watch something you didn’t like

you guys ended up loving it, especially the bomb scene

then you guys watched barbie…

it was a lot of laughing but the moment the movie started taking its turn bro gwen was fighting tears

and at the end of it? BALLING HER EYES OUT

if you are crying you both are just looking at each other in utter shock at the movie but also doing a really poor job at hugging each other

if you aren’t crying your eyes out with her you are comforting her while kinda laughing at her because she thought it was just gonna be some pink glam movie

it wasn’t.

“t-the message… this is so embarrassing i can’t stop crying what the fuck,” she cried into her palms which made her sound really funny as it was muffled by her skin.

you just held her close and you guys talked about the movies

especially like talking about the symbolism in barbie and how it touched on women suffering from the system and standards they are forced to live up to like it really hit gwen especially because the hate she got for how she acted in astv and how nobody was coming at the males that did the same or even worse than her

she sends you tiktok edits of gloria x barbie and says “us❤️”

overall, it was a 10/10 experience y’all went out to eat after in your cute outfits n all

— MILES

you asked him and miles was down IMMEDIATELY

he was another that thought oppenheimer looked good but he didn’t really mention going to the movie with you and the same thing for barbie

miles just thought they was both cool lookin

so you asked him.

“miles, baby, i have a very important question to ask you… one that may very well determine the outcome of this relationship.”

you spoke stern and serious, and almost vague.

"yeah, what's up? something wrong?" miles asks, slightly concerned, running his fingers through his curls and looking up at you.

“will you watch the barbie movie with me?” you pleaded with your hands, “pleaseee!”

miles eyes go wide, a smile spreading across his face.

"yes! i'm so down! i'll even be your ken if you wanna be my barbie. you know i'm a sucker for anything barbie."

you laughed, moving over to sit in his lap. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. “my ken, huh? i like the idea of that.”

“i mean, what else would i be? i’m here to serve you,” he spoke with a slight blush painted on his cheeks. you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“we should do those matching couple outfits for barbie,” you suggested, “wouldn’t we look so cute?”

"matching outfits?" he asks thoughtfully. "y’know what, i think i know the perfect idea for our couple's look, babe."

miles had this glow to him as you literally saw a light bulb go off in his head.

“oh really, you have an idea?” you questioned, furrowing your brows at the speed of whatever little brain storm was going on in his head. “is it boricua barbie? because not gonna lie, i’d love to see you in a dress.”

"hmm, you wanna see me in a pink, ruffly dress?" miles teases you, smiling at the idea. "why didn't you tell me you were into cute boys in feminine outfits sooner, babe? cus’ i’d dress up for you whenever you want."

“you play too much,” choked out through the giggles as you shoved his shoulder. "hey now, i look amazing in a dress," he laughs. "but i do have an idea that includes both matching barbie costumes and me being your ken, if you're up for it."

miles smiles sweetly at you, his expression turning a little mischievous. “if you have an idea, please do tell,” you said in a sultry voice.

"i want to do what barbie and ken did in that one movie, where ken turns out to actually have superpowers too," miles explains excitedly. "but instead of us being the same superhero, like we both have super strength or super speed, we could be superheroes who complement each other."

you laughed im disbelief. ‘no way’ you thought, knowing exactly what he was thinking of.

he takes your hand, placing the other one on your cheeks and staring deeply into your eyes as he smiles at you. "what do you think?" miles whispers, leaning down toward you.

“you wanna be barbie and ken… from barbie princess power,” you recited slowly, a grin stretching across your face. “of course the one who is a superhero vigilante says this.”

miles' smile widens. "yes, princess power! that's exactly what i was talkin’ about," he says. "and come on, don't underestimate the barbie movies. most of them are really good, dare i say cinematic masterpieces!”

you mouthed an ‘okay’ as you rolled your eyes.

"if i'm your ken, you have to be my barbie," he says, moving his hands onto your waist and moving you up his lap. "the most iconic couple in the barbie universe, right here."

y’all outfits looked so funny but cute… like in a diy that didn’t go wrong typa way

and if you think for a minute mamita rio let y’all go without them facebook mom photos you’re sadly mistaken

"sonríe pa la foto!" rio yelled as the flash coming from her phone was almost blinding.

“mami, por favor-”

miles begging was not gonna get him anywhere with his mom.

“dios mío, you both look so cute,” rio gushed.

“señora morales…you’re too kind!”

miles dad gave you both the typical “y’all better not get into no trouble” parent speech and then you both was off

when i say he was fangirling over the barbie themed cups and popcorn… i mean it

he was taking photos of everything

the whole movie his mouth was wide open in awe

miles was actually so furious at ken he looked absolutely lost and physically upset watching that white piece of plastic run a muck in barbieland

“HE TALKIN’ TO BARBIE LIKE THAT??”

yes, he cried at the end… and at the middle… and a little at the start

at first he was just amazed with the cinematography

but then when they got to the real world? just seeing through the movies lens and it’s take on how modern society treats women based on the parallel barbie world like he felt so unreal

at the end, he was acting like those guys on tiktok that was treating the women in they lives like absolute QUEENS walking out the theater because of the perspective they got watching the movie

not that he didn’t treat you like that before, don’t get him wrong, it’s just that he felt the need like a bunch of other guys after watching the movie to apologizes for the system men have created

it was a little funny, especially because it has nothing to do with him and men doing this type of stuff is a little corny coming from the privilege of the gender, but you appreciated it nonetheless

if you cried during the movie tho? he is bear hugging you crazy and not letting go even after the barbie world credits end

you guys leave the theater holding hands and talking about the film and he is geeking out over all the symbolism and stuff this man watches titanic you know he’s a secret film bro

“i’m so sorry mi amor, that us men have failed our women-”

and there miles went, on a nonstop rant about how you are his queen and how much he loves the women in his life.

you ended up sleeping over at his place

with the door open of course… you know rio is watching.

he had so much fun with you tonight and you could tell by the way he slept with a big smile displayed on his face.

— PAVITR

you asked him and he was happily accepting before you even got the question fully out.

“pav!” you called out from behind him, pulling him in from the neck for a hug. “hey, i wanna ask you something. do you wanna-”

“yes.”

“wait… what? pav i didn’t even say anything yet? what if i’m about to say something completely criminal?” you asked in a teasing tone.

“hehe, yeah maybe i’m a little too excited to see you. what is it, love?”

his eyes looked at you so bright and full of love, it was almost distracting.

“can we go see the barbie movie? we can even wear all pink and match…”

you were gonna say more, but you didn’t have to.

pav was immediately saying yes to everything

until the fear sunk in…

"wait, but I don't have anything pink to wear!" pavitr exclaimed, sounding slightly distressed. "does that mean you won't go with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a teasing smile.

he knows you’d never do such a thing.

"you know, i don't usually dress in pink, but for you i'll make an exception!"

you suggested you both go shopping like a little couples date

it was chaotic to say the least… but just as fun !!

he was acting like a model with everything he put on and it got even worse when you let him look at the stuff you were putting on

absolutely whipped.

“my girlfriend is gorgeous! absolutely gorgeous!”

you thanked him again, and again, and again.

“pav, do you think you are india’s next top model? because you are not gaytari,” you teased for him not finding an outfit yet, landing a peck on his cheek as he giggled in response.

"i'II look my best for the movie," he added with a wink. "are you sure you can handle all this style?"

all you could do was roll your eyes.

y’all were almost late to the movie because of bro

but you weren’t.

for the movie he was similar to miles and just in awe

in the beginning he was rooting for ken because he thought he was just being a good service boyfriend

you can imagine pavitr heartbreak when he started talking about the patriarchy

“no, wait- KEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!”

man is anger sobbing

words cannot describe the physical anger he feels seeing ken talk to barbie in such a manner he was stunned at the switch up

he also loved all of ruth’s parts, thinks she carried the whole movie

was physically leaning backwards at the sad scenes just taking it all in

pavitr LOVED the movie

came out the theater a changed man.

“my amazing, sweetest, most caring girlfriend…the prettiest of all mumbattan,” he spoke as he got down on one leg.

‘oh boy’ you thought, preparing yourself.

“i promise you, i would never ever treat you like how ken did barbie. you are a breathtaking woman and deserve the world-”

there goes another speech.

he walked you home like a true gentleman he smoking that ken pack and y’all talked about your favorite parts

pavitr overall had a really good time with you and enjoyed the message of the movie

— HOBIE

hobie is not and i repeat NOT watching that atomic bomb glorification story

but a movie about the patriarchy and double standard against women that hurts both genders based on the system men built through a satire film that is actually very political and has a message? yeah he’s going

when you told him tho not gonna lie he was gonna clown you

“barbie? like that lil white girl… you sure you wanna go watch that, luv?”

once you told him about the plot and showed him the trailer bro was READY to go

the set up of barbie world being a parallel to modern society was music to his ears

“really? i didn’t really expect allat comin’ from that bird. ight then, i’ll go. now i'm kinda curious.”

yes, he dresses up with you.

hobie is a punk icon… you know gender does not define him and he doesn’t care about breaking the “rules” of fashion of bit

so what does he dress as?

erika from rock n royals barbie.

guitar included.

you? well it’s a couple costume YOU'RE GONNA BE HIS COURTNEY

it’s not like you guys wore an exact replica of the outfits it was just heavily inspired fits

y’all looked cute as hell tho trust

“hobie, i can feel you staring,” you told him as you fixed up your makeup in your mirror.

it was true, you could feel him staring at you. heavy.

you looked to the side of your mirror and indeed saw him eyeing your figure with a soft smirk as he leaned against your bed frame. “what, not allowed to look at my girl now? since when?”

he was teasing and he knew it was making you flustered just by how your face was heating up.

his outfit isn’t too far out of bounds of what we would normally wear, but you couldn’t lie and say that the new colors didn’t fit him. the purple and the blue accents of his outfit, the leather jacket, the black eyeshadow with glitter that he surprisingly let you do, just everything about him looked so good.

hobie walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips, guiding your body closer to his as he watched your hands freeze applying your lip liner.

“don’t stop cus’ of me,” he spoke sheepishly.

you continued and shortly after finished up. his eyes still stared silently at you, admiring your beauty. “looking again, hobie? y’know i hope you pay attention to this movie…”

“i am,” he admitted with no shame, “you’re the prettiest gal i’ve seen. not gonna deny that.”

he pressed a slow, open mouth kiss on your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your chilled skin.

“shall we get goin’ now?”

he payed attention to the movie but he couldn’t help wrapping a arm around your shoulder and making little comments in your ear

hobie got quiet tho towards the middle because he genuinely got invested once her feet turned flat and barbie met the ceo

but once the movie started getting deep… BOYY the look on this mans face he was stunned, appalled, baffled, gobsmacked even at ken

and then the speech about women? lawd.

he didn’t cry at all during the final sequence and if anything i think he was confused…

“wait that’s the lady from before that was makin tea, innit?”

“yes hobie.”

“holdup, where the granny go? what’s with the white void?”

“HOBIE-”

don’t get it twisted tho he understood the film and thought it was beautifully done

y’all talked about all the topics afterwards and let’s just say bro hates kens and is angry that nobody told them shit

“are they mad? they must be cus’ no way after everything that happened they just gon forgive the man for being a raging misogynist… they had the girls wearing maid costumes and not one apology was heard man that’s insane!”

hobie smoking that ken pack

he enjoyed the movie but what made him enjoy it was doing it with you <33

— MIGUEL

you know you had to ask him.

bro was not considering anything that would take him away from his work or distract him because he feels he doesn’t have time for that

and the crazy thing is that miguel knows about the hype about the movie and the whole barbie core pink mania

but of course he gonna act like he don’t and got better things to do.

“do you wanna see the barbie movie with me?”

those the words that stopped the gears turning in his head.

“excuse me?” miguel asked, looking up from his report with furrowed brows as his forehead already began to crease.

you wanted to dwell on the fact that he is getting annoyed before you even got to explain yourself, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. no, you couldn’t let him get push you away this time.

“you heard me, miguel. c’mon, the movie with margot robbie! and did i mention barbie? one of the most popular dolls? don’t act stupid,” you told him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him close from behind as he sat. “you don’t think it would be fun?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing what you’re about to get him into.

“mi vida…” you hear him sigh, quietly in almost a cut-it-out type of tone. he moves his head to the side and you can practically feel the confusion behind the glare. “you’re joking.”

you move one of your hands to your heart. “miguel!” you gasped playful, “this is a serious matter. why would i even joke about watching a movie with you?”

“because there's no way you're being serious. you don't go looking for me to see a barbie movie. especially one you know i'll refuse,” he replies, his voice stern.

“but-”

"Is this some sort of elaborate humiliation attempt?"

“NO!”

"... you're serious, aren't you? what's in it for me? i mean, it's a barbie movie."

you explain to him the premise and he still acts like this whole thing is stupid and you have no business trying to see this movie with him

but he can’t lie, he’s intrigued.

he kinda wants to see it.

and he’s trying his best to hide it.

"okay… what time?" he asked, defeated.

“really, my begging actually worked? thank god because i already brought two tickets and it would’ve been sad showing up alone,” you confessed.

“you bought them? already?” he repeated, caught off guard by how ready you were. “and what time are they for?"

“7:30.”

“fine, fine. but i'm holding you to your word. If it turns out this is some kind of elaborate scheme, you'll be hearing about it."

he’s so suspicious for no reason

now when it came to outfits… yeah you know miguel owns no pink whatsoever

you didn’t even know he knew about the pink craze or even wanted to play into it until he let it slip

"what am i supposed to wear then? i don't own anything pink.”

“it’s fine we’ll go shoppin- wait who said anything about pink outfits to you?”

you started making fun of him but then he threatened to take back saying he was going with you and told you that you’d be sitting in a theater all by yourself

but then you brought up again how he was ready to wear pink for you and he had a little slip up

"n-no? i mean, I could… if i’m gonna go see this thing with you and it your way, might as well commit right?”

his facade was slipping, this was golden. “so you will wear pink?”

the mischievous look on your face made him annoyed but he knew what he was getting into.

“i said i could, not that i’m going to. don’t get your hopes up chiquita."

he did end up wearing pink

little said he know you were plotting something against him

it started off nice… simple.

it was white pants with a pink button up

you told him for a “pop of color” he should wear a green blazer

sound familiar? because you were planning a scheme YOU DRESSED HIM AS SUGAR DADDY KEN

it was for shits and giggles

he had no idea until it was all paid for and safe to tell him before miguel made you fix his outfit

he’s ore than a little surprised, and not really sure how to react. miguel takes a look at the outfit, and does his best to try and hold back a chuckle.

"this... is a joke. there's no way you're serious about me wearing this, is there?”

“put. it. on.”

he does a low sighs and take the outfit from you. "fine, only because it's you."

it didn’t take him long to finish in the changing room, and when he stepped out you were enchanted by the sight.

“happy?”

yes. indeed you were very happy.

he was paying for everything of course like the sugar daddy he doesn’t know he is

he had his arms crossed, sat down legs spread, watching you change into different pink outfits and rating telling you how he thought you looked

you’d do little spins for miguel

“muy bella.” “you look gorgeous.” “i like that one, fits you nicely.”

you ended up leaving and going to the movie and while on your way there decided to tell him about his little outfit.

“you wanna know a secret, miggy?” you ask him with a grin.

he raises a brown at you, “i feel like you're gonna tell me regardless, so i'm gonna say yes.”

you say nothing, you just pull up a photo of sugar daddy ken and show it to him.

as his eyes flicker to the screen, you see the light amusement fade away from his expression as it turns to one of genuine confusion and horror. miguel’s hand moves subconsciously to the green blazer, as the fear sets in that he recognizes exactly what the outfit is referring to. “you didn’t…”

“but i did.”

“you. you are a bad person.”

truth be told, he really liked the movie

miguel just really liked the message like it made it him think of all the women that were and are in his life like you and all the other girls he’s wronged before you iykyk

but it also made him sad because it reminded him of gabriella

just thinking about all the muñequitas she use to play with before it happens

all the dress up games they use to play, when he pretended to be whatever doll he picked for her to play pretend scenarios with her dream house

it also made him sad to think of the strong, independent woman she wouldn’t become if it wasn’t for him

he didn’t tear up, no not at all.

but by the empty look on his face you could tell just how he was feeling

you put a hand over his as the audience laughed at the screen. “miguel, you okay? you know we can leave if that’s what you want.”

he just turned, put his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. “no, no… i’m fine. don't worry.”

you guys had a good time and you swore you could see a small smile stretch across his face during some moments

he genuinely wanted to talk about the movie with you for hours but the man does have to sleep at some point

“hey, i just wanted to thank you for uh… convincing me to see a barbie movie. yeah, it sounded ridiculous and thought you were trying to find some way to mess with me for my attention. but, i really did enjoy spending time with you. just felt compelled to tell you that is all.”

miguel holds his heavy responsibility of the universe on his shoulders and is filled with grief

he doesn’t do this with the intent to tell people how to live their lives, but to try and protect what he couldn’t

so yeah, he’s glad you could give him some relief from the day

A/N: hey guys… i feel it’s been a minute but this took so long and it’s my first time writing for all of them beside gwen so im scared it’s gonna sound like shit so ??? i hope y’all enjoyed tho 🫶 BARBIE WAS SO GOOD

© 2023 primaviva — artist credits: zvdohu

[ssturniolo]

hii first ilysm and your stories :))

so I have an idea with Chris and the reader (they are dating in the story), the reader has problems eating but doesn't want to show it to anyone so as not to worry them so she lies about it. saying that she has already eaten or that she is not hungry, one day while she was at the triplets' house she went down to Chris's room to change but she did not know that Chris had followed her and when she takes off her sweater and her jogging pants, chris is very worried when he sees that the reader has lost a lot of his weight. I know that it's not an easy subject so you don't have to write it, it's just a proposal

Unconditionally loved

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris sturniolo x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3 (it’s a little different I hope that’s ok)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - eating disorder, use of y/n, crying, I think that’s it??

I follow the delicious scent of my favorite food down to the triplets kitchen, smiling to myself as I watch Chris and Nick put it into 4 separate bowls.

“Hi baby” Chris smiles, trotting over to wrap me in a hug. “I made us chicken Alfredo,” he says proudly.

“Don’t worry it’s edible, all he did was boil the water,” Nick smirks, handing me one of the bowls.

I laugh lightly as Chris rolls his eyes, walking with me to the couch. I set the bowl onto the coffee table, eyeing it longingly. It smells heavenly but I had a full banana this morning so even though my stomach is rumbling, and every part of my body wants this food, I know I can’t.

Instead, I snuggle into Chris’s side, watching him enjoy his meal.

***

I wake up still on the couch, Chris asleep at my side. I quietly stand, taking my now-cold bowl of chicken Alfredo to the kitchen, dumping it into the garbage before setting the bowl in the sink.

I return to the living room as Chris stirs awake.

“Hey baby” he smiles, opening his arms for me to crawl into. I do so, nuzzling my nose into his neck as he runs a hand through my hair.

“Wanna go back to the bed? I don’t wanna sleep on the couch tonight,” Chris says after a few moments of silence.

“Mhm” I hum into his neck, waiting a few seconds before pushing myself off of him.

“I’m gonna put my bowl away then meet you there, ok?” Chris says as he turns the tv off.

“Alright.”

I make my way to his room, leaving his door cracked open behind me. I pull out a pair of pj pants and a hoodie from Chris’s closet, laying them out on the bed. I remove my sweatshirt, not noticing Chris enter the room.

“Y/n?” Chris’s concerned voice cuts through the air as I spin around. His eyes are trained on my ribs that are poking through my skin at an unhealthy level. The way my stomach is less than half its original size is easy to hide under baggy clothes but under his hot gaze, I feel like shriveling up and dying. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this.

“Baby are you ok?” Chris takes a step closer as I take a step back, my eyes brimming with tears.

“I saw your food in the trash. Have you not been eating?” He questions again, knowing the answer.

I say nothing, burying my face in my hands as I erupt into sobs. Chris rushes over, to which I do not step away this time. He brings us to sit at the edge of his bed, cradling my shaking body in his warm embrace.

“It’s ok… you’re ok” he whispers sweet nothings into my ear until I’ve calmed down enough to form coherent sentences.

“I-I lied a lot about already eating or not being hungry. I’m so sorry” I sniffle, my cheek pressed against Chris’s tear-soaked t-shirt.

“No need to be sorry my love. I just wish you would have talked to me before it became a severe issue.” Chris replies, rubbing my back soothingly.

“I just didn’t want to worry you,” I mumble, realizing how stupid that now sounds.

“I know I know. All that matters is getting you the help you need now, yeah?”

I just nod my head against him, blinking away fresh tears. I know I need the help I just never knew how to go about it. Especially since no one but me knew about my bad eating habits.

Chris lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“I’m scared Chris.”

“And I’m going to be here with you through it all. I always will. We face problems together from now on, ok?”

“Ok.” I repeat, giving him my word.

Taking this on is so much less scary with Chris at my side, loving me unconditionally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, eating disorders are increasingly common amongst people, particularly younger females. If ANY of you need to talk, my dms are always open. I love you guys <3

XOXO - Zoe

Taglist ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @mattestrella @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

[notspiders]

Liminal Spaces w/ COD:MW

Part 1

~~~~

Credits for some of the ideas goes to: @angelcqre , @roller-rink-haruno , and @sentientcave / @bluemoonrover. I love all of you so much, thank you for the support!!!

~~~~

It's more than just Task Force 141.

Don't like them? Consider these following options! :) Watch your back.

Phillip Graves - The Farm:

There's really nowhere to run off to. Good luck.

His Shadows are the farmhands and the scarecrows.

His animals are... weird.

His horses are a bit too smart, and you think you seen them peering through your bedroom window. Which is nice, until you remember you're on the second floor.

They're... always crunching on something. Why is the family of mice decreasing?

Why do the dogs look human-like? Is it the eyes?

But, you know, ignoring them... the BBQ and steak isn't so bad. You'll get the juiciest steak here. The best baked bread...

Oh, hun. You're cooking, by the way.

He's waiting on that blueberry pie too, you know.

Look at the closet. It's filled with his favorite clothes for you. :)

Why don't you bend over that counter and let him...

Oh? No? You're saying no?

That's adorable. You now have until three to lay on his lap. :)

Alex Keller - Highway

Well you do have to be in a car for this. Walking is a bit of a pain. :/

The endless highway... Sometimes you'll spot a car driving by. But they disappear when you try to speed up to them.

There's an occasional gas station smack in the middle.

And maybe the next hundreds of miles there's another...

Always stocked to the max. Anything you want, it's there.

It's cool inside too.

He's always there too.

You can keep driving but you need the gas. It'll be a pain to have your car broken down in the middle of nowhere. And the sun is scorching hot.

Oh!

Princess needs somewhere to stay, yeah?

That motel looks sus but a place is a place, and a bed would be nice than the hard car seats.

You know...

Alex can do more than just fill your car. :)

Laswell - Cruise Ship:

The cruise ship is always moving in the waters. You don't know where it goes, or when there will be land, you feel like the boat has moved for hours but...

All the clocks are not working. It's all frozen. The day is not changing either. No clouds either. Perfectly sunny.

You have everything in this empty cruise ship. The rooms are always open for you.

Beds are clean, no matter how many times you mess up the sheets, when you exit the room and enter it again- it's back to its pristine state.

The bathrooms are neat. The shampoo and conditioner go great on your hair. There's other products- makeup, medical, more toiletries- in the drawers, should you ever need them.

Theaters, arcades, casinos, restaurants- all free for you to use.

It feels great, if it didn't feel like you're being watched constantly.

You'd enjoy this place, if you didn't see things move in the corner of your eye. You sworn you saw and heard the splash of water in the pool. And that you heard the laughter of someone in a different room. And the chattering in the restaurant.

But every time you rush in, there's no one there.

No one is here in this cruise ship. No one but ghosts and echoes of families who've been here. They're harmless... Just ignore them, dear.

Good luck trying to avoid Laswell, too. She's always watching through the cameras. :)

Under any circumstances, do not jump out.

The ocean is not the ocean.

Nikolai - Airplane

Let's get this straight, yeah?

Good girls stay in first class. Bad girls go to economy.

And if you behave like an animal, well, depends on our pilot's mood. You either get called into the cockpit...

Or down into the cargo you go! :)

Don't worry! He's very nice. If you're acting up, he gives you a warning.

That being turbulence. If the plane is shaking you better stop what you're doing. Now.

It's a strange plane... You can keep on walking and it just doesn't seem to end. Place changes too, when you try to go back. It's always something new.

Plenty of movies and games in the airplane for you to watch. Don't bother taking your phone out, it won't work.

There are very nice flight attendants that'll prepare you the best food you've ever eaten. Airplane food isn't so bad after all. You can have any drink you want too.

Just don't talk with them more than just about the food. If you say anything else, they'll leave immediately.

If you flirt with them, it's their death sentence. You'll wonder why they pale and walk away so fast...

If you glance at the window, you might just catch a glimpse of them flying out into the sky.

Speaking of which... It's pitch black outside. You do see the airplane wing and the red flashing light at the end... But other than that, you can hardly differentiate the night from earth... or sea.

König - Pools

You stumbled into one of these rooms and found the naked Austrian in the pools.

Don't run! Please! You're the first human face he's seen in a while!

It's not all that bad. There's some food in the fridge- a microwave is nearby for you to reheat some foods- and the water is fresh.

The best baths are here. There's all of these shampoos, conditioners, lotions, bathbombs...

Poor König never used them because he doesn't know how to! Teach him please!

Seriously. Gaz gave him the 13 in 1 unlimited dish soap that has Johnny's face smack in the middle of it to shoo him out of his mall- and König's been using that to wash himself ever since. :(

Don't mind him cuddling you all the time.

You're the softest thing he's ever held in his hands. The towels and rubber duckies can't even compare.

Don't try to escape or leave his side now.

There are monsters here that'll be happy to drown you.

Alejandro Vargas - The Resort

A massive upgrade compared to Ghost's Bachelor Shack by the sea.

It's still... very empty.

It's just you and Alejandro.

Food and drink are limitless. Ask for anything, Alejandro will deliver.

Relax, love. You deserve this break. You deserve everything.

No annoying seagulls squawking at you. You do see them flying in the distance though... They never come, nor do they ever land.

The waters are crystal clear. It's the perfect temperature to slip inside and just float in it.

You're never cold. It's toasty warm, with an occasional breeze. Feels perfect. The hotel has perfect air conditioning, if you want to stay inside.

You get a camera, instead of your phone. Go take some pictures!

There's so many things to do here. Scuba-diving, sailing, swimming, surfing...

Exploring tide pools with Alejandro. :)

Rodolfo Parra - Aquarium

Enjoy yourself in the aquarium! Don't you worry, the animals here are all treated wonderfully.

Let him be your tour guide. He'll show you every marine animal in this domain.

And it seems he has everything here. You can take pictures! Just without the flash please. Seriously. No flash. In fact, how about just let him take the pictures for you? Pose with him and smile for the camera... :)

If you want, you can feed the animals here!

You can pet some of the animals in some spots. Rub the back of a patient orca. Allow a sea otter to sniff your hands. Pat the belly of a lazy seal.

Come over to the Ray Pool! The stingrays are eager to feel your touch.

The beluga swims beside you as you walk down the tunnel. A dolphin leaps out of the water to greet you. A manatee smushes its face against a window in an attempt to give you a >kith<.

Ah you're hungry? Not to worry. The cafeteria is down here. Anything you want to eat or drink, it's all here.

After lunch, how about you go diving with Rudy? Don't worry. It's safe. He'll take you to one of the biggest pools and you can dive in beside him.

The Humpback Whale nuzzles you affectionately.

Try not to stray away from Rudy. You can easily get lost in these halls... If you do, stay still and just let him come up to you.

There's no point in hiding. The fish are on his side. :/

Farah Karim:

I truly believe that Farah actually doesn't have a liminal space.

She guides you instead.

She helps you go through the domains.

Farah is someone you can trust in this liminal region.

She'll watch your back as you two camp in Soap's woods. She'll lead you out of Price's suburbia. She sneaks you away from Graves's farm.

She'll protect you.

Bonus w/ Ghost:

After you met with Alejandro and seen his beach, Ghost upgraded his domain.

Well, slightly.

There is a lighthouse now.

Do you remember playing in the beach with him? You two built sandcastles together.

He's awfully proud of himself when he tips the bucket and pulls it up. He's made his first sand tower, really.

"Tha's gonna be where you and me live, lovie."

...No wonder why that lighthouse looks awfully familiar.

It also explains why it looks like it's going to crumble any second.

Sure, there's blankets and lovely cushions, some food and drink in the corner-

It's... somehow colder here than the shack. :/

You can practically feel the tower shake as the waves crash against it.

Ghost assures you- as you curl up beside him on the small bed for his warmth- that it's perfectly safe. Trust him. Please.

Please don't leave him.

But if you really need to...

He'll light his tower to guide you through the dark.