#snapping rubber bands on your arm

[abyssyby]

sylus finding himself idling— waiting for his order @ a restaurant, sitting in the back of a car otw to a location, held for ransom in an underground cage, u name it— bored out of his mind or with no phone signal so he just kinda sits there and scrolls through his photos app. once empty now just filled with organized folders of your candid & noncandid photos. he loves to sort as much as he loves to hoard, ok, it brings him peace.

simply named albums:

eating 📂 and its photos of you and food, taking a bite. holding out a fork, a spoon, a wrapper, chopsticks of food for him to try with an excited glint in your eye. him feeding you. you grimacing at the odd orders, deciphering if they're good or not. pointing excitedly at food trucks and menus ("let's try that! let's try this!"). your face in a >0< bc your overeager self inhaled something too hot. looking up at him with crumbs on your cheeks, brightcolored dye-stained lips. blurred photos of you trying to kiss him with icing on your lips, reaching out to make a mess of him too.

sleeping 📂 and its you wrapped around his bicep dozed off. you on his chest snoozin. your closed eyes peeking out of the duvet with the slowly coloring sky through the window behind you. you drifting away during a car ride, hand in his, lips slightly parted. cold morning cuddles. selfies of grumpy you in the middle of the night with him in the backdrop hogging the blanket (you sent them to him to see in the morning because you never remember being upset when you wake up). VIDEOS of your sleep talking— and his tiny chuckles and comments ("adorable" as your hiss about ratatouille, smoothing out the crease between your brows with his thumb "grumpy grumpy dove", massaging the joint under your ear as you tense your jaw "mm, might hurt in the morning"). most of the photos are taken from the front camera, often with his cut off fond smile and soft eyes in the corner.

shopping 📂 and its you at the store picking out fruits, sneaking sweets in the cart. your back in a gorgeous outfit as you stare at jewels and protocores in glass. trying out the strangest things to get a chuckle out of him ("whats this now?", "fampire teef"— got him!). at the festivals holding up two lanterns with a distressed look on your face (you cant choose). at the shops with two coats, a helpless look in your eyes (you cant choose). you at the check out with a shy smile as you hand the cashier his black card (he bought everything).

kittens (and more) 📂 and AAAA its a video of you at meow cafe slamming down a kitty card with a wayyy too competitive look on your face. you crouched on the side of the road feeding stray cats. you at a bird sanctuary with eyes half-closed, a bright smile on your face as the birds make a nest in your hair. you and a giant dog you cooed at in the park ("sy, sy! take our photo, please please. his name is kujo!"). you mid-scream as a rat runs by your feet. you with lions for some reason? (bonus, you on the couch with his large body atop yours, head on your belly as you watch TV and pet his ears that one time he got kitty cursed via ‘Luke sent from my iPhone’)

us 📂 and its you and him. your selfies where hes frowning at something out of frame and youre 😄✌️. when he has his arm around you as you walk, his eyes forward but you’ve decided to snap a bright-eyed photo. selfies you take from a low angle as youre bored out of your mind during an auction, he smiles fondly to appease you. selfies in the dim of movie night with him in his glasses and fluffy hair and you wrapped up in your giant blanket-poncho. selfie of you kissing his cheek while he sleeps. mirror selfies of u in facemasks & matchy headbands. your HANDS, with your RINGS, intertwined with his fingers. creating, presenting (craft, art, music, a reloaded weapon, a flower, a bug, a silly rubber band shape you were so proud to show him). playing with the hem of his jacket. nail photos you send him after an appointment?? saved. candid photos of you two bickering and then immediately after flirting airdropped by the twins (captioned "gross." via 'Keiran sent from my iPhone'). and countless photos of him kissing your hair as youre taking the picture— one for each season— dusted with snow, trees and flowers in full bloom behind you, sweaty and against the light in the summer heat, and you tucked in his coat as the orange leaves dance above you in the wind.

he scrolls, a stupid little smile on his face, until his food arrives. until his car comes to a stop. until you’re breaking down the metal bars of his prison, sweaty and breathless and worried and beautiful, to save him.

(he takes a photo of that last image too, saving it to the general ‘beloved’)

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : light angst, shouting, reader stands up for bucky, kinda open-ended summary : bucky feels weird things in his stomach whenever he thinks about you, he’s convinced he’s getting sick wc : 1.7k a/n : part two here

the avengers tower was a hive of activity. agents scurried in and out, stark’s gadgets beeped incessantly, and the hum of conversations filled the hallways. amidst the chaos, you’d carved out your own little routine - something steady to hold onto in a world that rarely stopped moving. and then there was bucky barnes. he was the quiet one, always on the edges of the action, as though he wasn’t sure where he fit in. you’d noticed him almost immediately when you moved in, not because he tried to stand out, but because he did the opposite.

every morning, he’d shuffle into the kitchen, head down, hair slightly messy from sleep. you’d offer him a soft “good morning,” trying not to sound too eager, and he’d nod or mumble something before retreating to the solitude of the gym or his room. his shyness only made you want to know him more. there was a depth to him, layers you were dying to peel back, but he seemed content - or maybe resigned - to keeping everyone at arm’s length.

still, you didn’t give up. you tried in small ways: leaving him a cup of coffee when you knew he’d be up early, asking if he’d want to join for movie nights, even offering him a quiet corner during team meetings when things got too loud. his answers were always polite but distant. it wasn’t rejection, not really, but it still left you wondering if you’d ever get through to him.

then came the day you overheard something that made your blood boil.

it happened in the common room. you’d been looking for a misplaced file when you caught snippets of a conversation between two junior agents. at first, you thought nothing of it - just the usual chatter that filled the tower. but then you heard bucky’s name, and your attention snapped to them like a rubber band.

“he’s just so… weird,” one of them said, his tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, come on, we’re supposed to trust him? after everything he’s done?”

“seriously,” the other agreed. “it’s like walking on eggshells around him. guy barely talks, and when he does, it’s just… creepy. i don’t know why they keep him around.”

rage bubbled up in your chest, hot and immediate. before you could stop yourself, you stepped into the room, your voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. “who do you think you are?”

the agents froze, their faces draining of color as they realized you’d been listening. one of them tried to stammer an excuse, but you weren’t having it.

“no, i want to know,” you said, your voice steady but sharp. “what gives you the right to talk about him like that? do you have any idea what he’s been through? what he’s overcome? or do you just like tearing people down because it makes you feel better about yourselves?”

they exchanged nervous glances, clearly searching for an exit, but you weren’t finished.

“bucky barnes has more strength in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have in your entire life. and if i hear either of you - either of you - say one more word about him, you’ll be reassigned so fast you won’t have time to pack your desks. understood?”

they mumbled something that sounded like agreement before bolting from the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

unbeknownst to you, bucky had been standing just around the corner.

he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. he’d been on his way to the common room to grab a bottle of water when he heard your voice. at first, he’d thought you were just talking to someone, but as the words sank in, he realized you were defending him. you were angry - no, furious - on his behalf, and it left him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

no one had ever done that for him before.

days later, the memory still lingered. he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, fire in your eyes, your voice unwavering. it was as though you’d burned yourself into his mind, and every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. it wasn’t just what you’d said; it was the way you’d said it, with so much conviction it made him feel… something he couldn’t quite name.

that night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. his heart raced, his palms were clammy, and his stomach churned in a way that felt almost… pleasant? but also deeply unsettling. was he getting sick? that seemed impossible - the serum made sure of that. yet the symptoms were undeniable. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, heard your voice, and felt that strange, fluttering sensation in his chest.

by the next morning, he was convinced something was seriously wrong.

bucky had never been one to dwell on his feelings. survival, duty, and regret had occupied most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, he couldn’t ignore the storm swirling inside him. he felt… strange. his chest was tight, his thoughts were scattered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he overheard you in the common room.

he should’ve stepped in, said something to those agents himself, but instead, he’d stood there like a coward while you defended him. the memory of your voice, sharp with anger, made his palms sweat. no one had ever spoken up for him like that. people either feared him or avoided him altogether. but you - you’d stood there, unwavering, because you believed he was worth it. the thought made his heart race in a way that felt entirely too unfamiliar.

it had to be some kind of illness, right? he couldn’t be sick - the serum wouldn’t allow it - but what else could explain the way his stomach flipped whenever you were around? or the way his hands fidgeted nervously whenever you said his name? bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. this was ridiculous. he needed answers.

and so, he turned to the only person he trusted to give him the truth.

“steve, something’s wrong with me,” bucky blurted out later that day. they were in the gym, steve halfway through a set of push-ups when bucky’s words made him pause mid-rep.

“wrong?” steve asked, pushing himself to his feet. “what do you mean?”

bucky hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s… i don’t know. i’ve been feeling weird lately. my heart’s racing, i can’t think straight, and every time i see - ” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “never mind. forget it.”

steve’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

bucky’s jaw tightened. “what? no. that’s not… that’s not it.”

“sure, buck,” steve said, his tone teasing. “you’re probably just coming down with something.”

bucky narrowed his eyes. “serum, remember? i don’t get sick.”

steve’s smile widened. “exactly.”

bucky scowled, realizing too late that steve wasn’t going to be any help. he mumbled a quick excuse and left, his frustration mounting. if steve wasn’t going to take him seriously, he’d just have to figure this out himself.

next on his list was sam. surely sam would have a straight answer for him.

“ you’re not dying, man,” sam said after bucky cornered him in the kitchen. “although, judging by the way you’re acting, you’d think the world was ending.”

bucky frowned. “i’m not acting any way.”

sam raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. look, maybe you just need to… i don’t know, talk to someone about it. someone who isn’t me.”

bucky groaned. “you’re no help.”

“at least i’m honest,” sam shot back, smirking as he left bucky alone with his thoughts.

it wasn’t until later that night, during a rare moment of quiet, that bucky found himself seeking out natasha. if anyone could give him a straight answer, it was her. she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through a book, when he approached.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

natasha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “always.”

bucky shifted awkwardly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “if… hypothetically… someone couldn’t stop thinking about another person, and it made them feel all… weird inside, what would you call that?”

natasha’s lips twitched, and for a moment, bucky thought she might laugh. but instead, she closed her book and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “weird how?”

bucky struggled to find the words. “just… weird. like, heart-racing, can’t-think-straight, stomach-doing-flips kind of weird.”

natasha studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

bucky blinked. “got what?”

she smirked. “you’ll figure it out.”

and just like that, she returned to her book, leaving bucky more confused than ever.

over the next few days, bucky’s “symptoms” only seemed to worsen. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. the way you smiled, the sound of your laugh, even the little things you did - like leaving a cup of coffee on the counter for him - made his chest ache in the best possible way. it was maddening.

finally, in a last-ditch effort to make sense of what was happening, he sought out wanda. if anyone could give him clarity, it was her.

wanda listened patiently as bucky explained his predicament, her expression calm and composed. when he finished, she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“bucky,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

he frowned. “but - ”

“you’ve got a crush,” she said simply.

bucky’s heart stopped. “a crush?”

wanda nodded. “yes. and from the sound of it, it’s about time you did something about it.”

bucky stared at her, his mind racing. the idea felt foreign, almost impossible. but as he thought about you - the way you’d stood up for him, the way you’d always looked and spoken to him with so much warmth and understanding - he realized wanda was right.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[nastyyyinkyy]

In a Hot Rut!

Divider by @/elleisdesigning!

Alpha! Sevika x Omega! Reader

Tags: Brat/ Brat tamer, Begging, Bondage(R! receiving), Overstim, Strap on usage, Biting/Marking, Doggy style, Praise/ Degradation, Hair pulling, Omegaverse, Implied multiple orgasms, After care

Summary: It’s the first day of your heat, and it’s been bothering you nonstop. You would bother your wife, Sevika, if she weren’t busy taking care of something.

First days of anything can be pestering. Especially when it’s something like your heat. Normally, you’d usually have some medication to push it back a day or two, but you forgot to get a refill since last month and been rutting into whatever you can get on…in your room at least.

In times like this, Sevika was there to give you some relief. But she was out handling some business and wouldn’t be back til the afternoon. Lucky you, you only have to wait 30 more minutes til she came home. A good chunk of that time was spend sniffing Sevika’s clothes and humping on her pillows. You almost squirted a few times. Then finally-

*click*

Your front door was unlocking. Sevika’s home. She was basically smacked by your heat-powered scent. It smelled like oranges and wild grass. when she opened the door and was hit ever harder when she opened your bedroom door. The scent a little different this time. The orange and grass scent was still there, but something sweeter undermined them. She couldn’t place her finger on it. Till she remembered that you’ve been downing pineapple juice for a week. When she asked you about it, your answer was along the lines of:

“It’s a surprise! Trust me, you’ll love it!”

She didn’t just love it, she absolutely adored it.

“Sevikaaa..” You whined.

“I missed you too, Sweetness.”

————

”Oooh, fuck. Sevika, yes, yes!! Please, right there! Fuuuuuckk!”

Your hands were tied behind your back and your tits were planted on the bed, putting you in a downward dog position. Sevika hovered right over you, with one hand on your waist and the other pressing down on your neck. Her strap rubbed up against your g-spot making you go dumb and giving you heart eyes.

“Oh, look at you. You’re so pretty like this. I bet this feels so fucking good. Taking my strap like a good girl.”

“ ‘Vikaaa, please don’t stop. I’m right there! Please please please please pleaaaase don’t stop!”

Sevika’s hand over from your waist to your clit, making fast and small circles. Your moans only get louder as you start to grind back on Sevika’s strap. You wiggle your arms that are still tied behind you. A weak attempt to break out to touch Sevika.

“Fuck, you feel so good…so damn…tight. Ooh, I love you so much!”

“Sevikaaaa, please! I’m so close! Please don’t stop, I’m begging you! Please please please, Sevika!”

“You close, yeah? You gonna cum for me, pretty mamas? Fuuuhh.. come on. Come on my cock.” She rubbed your clit faster, forcing that rubber band in you stomach to finally snap.

You came, and you came hard. Your squirt covered you and Sevika’s lower halves. When Sevika finally pulled out, its base had a white ring around it.

“Sevikaaa..”

“Don’t worry, sweetness. I ain’t done yet.”

———————

“Come on, baby. Give me one more, just one more, pleasssseee!”

You and Sevika have been through multiple rounds, basically nonstop. Sevika overdone it today, so her usual stamina was up to par with yours. You nuzzed your face in between her neck while occasionally peppering her in kisses and begging in her ear.

“Yeah..” She huffed out. “ I’ll give you one more…just….gimme a second…to catch my breath”

“Pleaseeee, please hurry up, Sevika, baby, PLEASE!! You have no clue how bad I need this; how bad I need you. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Keep it up and I won’t do jack shit.”

[poguehearted77]

Portugal Nights

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.

This belongs to my OBX Season 5: Payback For Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

smut: lots of making out (they've both needed this forever lol), oral sex (f! and m! receiving) , heavy petting, hickeys, shower sex, hand holding, protected sex and unprotected :( , drew is so pussy whipped omg, just passionate sex tbh, sex everywhere?? lmao.

"Action!"

Rafe paces back and forth in the abandoned dungeon-like room with his hands on his head, plotting desperately. You're surrounded by nothing but eroding walls, stained with foreign substances. There's dried blood on the floor that adds slight resistance with every lift of his heel.

You fume silently every time you look at the tall blonde who can't seem to stand still. You reflect on how he got you both in this mess in the first place and your eyes roll reflexively.

Earlier today, a little before dawn you and the pogues had just docked in Portugal, wasting no time to try to find Finch's fortress so you could find Groff, but you were being followed.

You noticed it first around sunset but kept it to yourself not wanting to distract the pogues from the objective of the mission in case you were wrong.

You'd all set up camp a little outside the city, not wanting to catch the attention of any civilians. However, you didn't rest. Not when you knew trackers tend to get a little careless as the sun slips below the horizon. Relying on the shadows of darkness to conceal their footprints and hide their silhouettes.

"I'm gonna scope the area a bit," You said, flipping your signature steel weapon up in the air and catching it coolly as you entered the darkness of the shrubs and out of sight. "I'm goin' after her." Rafe declares, already trailing behind you as Sarah calls for him but it falls on deaf, determined ears.

He's trekking closely behind you, so you stop walking and convey your message without even turning to face him. "Another step closer Rafe and I swear to god they'll have to dislodge steel from places you can't even name." He doesn't back down, nor does he step closer.

"I don't trust you." He says, and you scoff. "I don't care, Rafe," You finally turn, "Why don't you do us both a favour and go back to the others, yeah? I got this." For a moment he goes silent, almost like he didn't know what to say.

"No comeback? No insult?-" You start, always looking for a fair fight with him.

"Shut up." Rafe snaps back, stepping closer to you and your arms crossed while you plant your feet firmly where they are, refusing to let anything about the rich boy intimidate you.

"Looks like I finally got under your skin-" It's all a blur when he suddenly cups a hand over your mouth to silence you, "Will you shut the fuck up?" His words are delivered in a harsh whisper as his eyes scan your surroundings suspiciously.

At that moment, there was no Piper and Rafe. It's you and Drew. He met yours with a wild gaze, something unhinged about the way he was looking at you. Not as sincere and admirable as the longing stares from across the room that you're used to--no, this was something much more perilous.

"You hear that?" He whispers, softer this time. There's another rustle in the bushes around you. Shit.

With your backs turned and the area being so dark, the opposers use the darkness to their advantage and strike you both in the back of the head, knocking you out cold.

Which brings you to where you are now.

"For the love of god, will you stop the back and forth? You're driving me insane." You exclaim from where you rest against the contaminated walls.

"Listen," He now stalks to you slowly, like a predator approaching its prey. "I'm a proactive type of person. I'm not just gonna sit on my ass all day and let Finch come back and kill us!"

"Us? This didn't have to involve you! Maybe if you'd just taken that stick out of your ass for once and stayed with the group you could've saved yourself the trouble." Kicking yourself off the wall, you shout as loud as you can but he doesn't flinch.

Rafe's chest heaves rapidly, trying to calm himself down. "Well we're here now, and If I'm ever gonna make it back home, I have to get out of here alive."

You stand still, silent. Analyzing his features and expression, but your silence makes him uncomfortable and it etched across his face,

"Who is she?" The question is simple, and straightforward, yet far too complicated for Rafe to understand.

"What?" He questions.

Over the last few days you'd spent near the pogues, you'd gotten to know most of them quite well. All except Rafe that is.

"Your dad is dead, your little sister and your money are under your stepmother's possession. What do you have to go back to? Who is drawing you back?" He gulps, his defences crumbling evidently as his shoulders slumped.

For once, he didn't fight you on it.

Sofia. That's the name he shares with you and a little about their recent argument.

"Jus' don't tell anyone, alright? I don't need the others knowing more than they should." You shrug, "I have no reason to tell them about your cute wittle wove story." You couldn't stop yourself from teasing him.

Rafe charges towards you in anger with a glint of jest. You try to run backwards, away from him but your shoe is bound to the floor credit to the various adhesives meant to replicate stains and puddles.

By the time Drew realizes you aren't moving, it's too late and his body is already colliding with yours. Tangling together and sending you both tumbling to the ground with Drew between your legs and his head buried in the side of your neck.

You can hear the blood pumping in your ears. Drew's body completely covering yours on set in front of the crew should have you rolling out from underneath him and returning to reality, but no. There you lay, daring to glance into the piercing blue eyes that were already staring at you.

You take into account the notes of his cologne as they intermingle with the detergent of his clothes. The combination clouds your judgement and sends you reeling into a headspace you've been avoiding for the last three months.

You're in deep. Too deep.

"Cut!" Drew gets up like a kid caught red-handed before offering you a helping hand that you take graciously meanwhile the other guides you at the waist so lightly you'd barely notice it was there had your body not been burning at a thousand degrees.

Something is off. Usually, the two of you would be in knots of laughter after something like this, instead only the crew had giggles to go around but you both stood still. Unmoving, eyes locked on each other, looking within.

Could he see you? You wonder, does he know what you're thinking?

You swallow hard, your lips parting to say something, but no words come out. Instead, your gaze flickers to his mouth, and you catch him doing the same thing, just for a split second before he looks away. His jaw tightens as he shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping back, but the tension doesn’t break.

--

The day progresses into a warm summer night as the cast and crew gather at a charming Portuguese restaurant perched high in the city's hills. Lanterns nestled among lush potted plants cast a warm glow, while fairy lights drape elegantly from flowers cascading down from the ceiling, creating a dreamlike ambiance.

The long table overlooks the rolling hills below, their silhouettes dotted with the golden lights of the nearby city. Beyond, the navy-toned ocean stretches out, its gentle waves shimmering under the moonlight, completing the serene view.

The laughter is bubbly as the champagne flows between the tables. The cast looked amazing tonight, everyone had put on their best outfits for a fun night out with their castmates.

While Madelyn and Carlacia posed for a selfie together, Chase helped himself to the last bread roll left in the baskets the waiters had left earlier.

"Did you--" Drew titls the basket towards him so he can analyze the full damage of Chase's consumption. They both laugh, realizing the basket is completely void. "Maybe if we weren't waiting on JD and Y/n, we could get some real food going around."

The sole mention of your name has Drew on edge. He's recently lost the ability to control his own reactions around you as his body surrenders to the very mention of your name.

"Speak of the devil," Chase says as you and JD enter the restaurant side by side, a little embarrassed. "Fashionably late, as always." Madelyn remarks and you giggle.

"I'm sorry guys! I couldn't find my shoes and I extorted Jonathan for his kindness, so don't get mad at him." Your voice is sweet as you make your way around the table. Drew felt as though there were noise-cancelling headphones blocking out any surround sound.

His eyes fulfill their god-given purpose and stay glued to your frame--a very well-dressed frame might he add. You look stunning. He notices that you styled your hair differently. He's unsure if it's personal preference or a maintenance concern, but you rarely wore your natural curls out.

You're always opting to straighten them or put them up, but he thinks it amplifies your allure tenfold. Maybe he's just biased. That must be the case when he realizes he hasn't taken a breath since you walked in.

You situate yourself in the last empty seat between Madelyn and Chase, directly in front of Drew. Oh, this should be fun.

He clears his throat behind a closed fist, glancing up at you by chance and catching your gaze by luck. He does a double take and straightens up. "You look, just--" The words fade on him and he prays the ground would burst open at the seams and swallow him.

"Thank you, so do you." You return the half-finished compliment. However, it's for the best you don't say much about how Drew looks tonight. You're not sure you'd be able to conclude the sentence without the words 'edible', or 'sex on legs'.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, JD leans forward to whisper to Madison. "Remember that bet we made for Drew and Y/n, you predicted they'd get together within three months, and guess what? It'll be three months at midnight."

Madison giggles with a playful roll of her eyes. "What? Do you have this on your calendar or something?" JD does in fact proceed to show her his calendar with a marked date that says "Pay Day." Her eyes squint at him, "You are so ridiculous do you know that? I'm not backing down. The night is still young." She grins, and JD just shakes his head at the girl in clear denial.

The night flows on, filled with warmth and familiar laughter circulating the tables as everyone enjoys their conversations. You glanced down into your lap while Chase recounted a funny moment from earlier today on set.

You're anxiously considering if you should succumb to your sinful nature of greed and steal another glance at the breathtaking man sitting across the table.

You shouldn’t glance up—you know you shouldn’t—but you do anyway, and there he is, already watching you. The corner of his mouth curls into the faintest, most maddening smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You hate to admit it but it intimidates you. The weight of his gaze sends an electric chill down your spine, prompting you to shift in your seat. Drew reaches for a sip of water from the crystal glass on the table while you shift in place.

You cross your legs and your left heel accidentally brushes the inside of Drew's leg and he chokes. He quickly shields it behind a cough and you look like a deer caught in headlights as his ice-blue orbs are piercing through you.

Your foot hasn't moved, but you decided not to provoke him any further and retract it back within your bounds. Your heart is racing and suddenly you're the one reaching for a glass of water to satiate your thirst, but you both know it's an impossible task since there's only one remedy and he's sitting right in front of you.

-

By midnight the cast made it back to their rooms, ready to unwind from a long day and eventful night meanwhile you're stuck. Your mind is bouncing between the walls that seem to get closer the more you pace back and forth.

You've been at it for the last 5 minutes since you made it back to your room. Any normal person would be putting the night behind them and getting ready for bed--but no.

You're not normal. You're obsessed.

Pathetically hooked on the idea of a man who's just 3 doors down the hall--completely oblivious to the trainwreck Drew was making of himself because of you.

You're chewing at your fingernails, contemplating just knocking on his door. Is that crazy? What if it's all in your head?

The latter possibility didn't weigh enough to hold you back from any impulsive decisions as you're stepping over to his door with your heels still on and all it takes is one deep breath before you're raising your hand to knock but it swings open before it makes contact.

Drew looks like he hadn't taken a seat since he got back either. He looks restless, frazzled, and maybe even frustrated. His chest halts on the incline as he holds his breath, startled to see exactly who he'd been looking for standing right in front of him.

His eyes rake over your figure frantically as if trying to decipher if you're truly standing in front of him.

"Hi," You breathe out, your head angled up to admire his perfect features while he stares down at you.

"Hey," His voice is soft, struggling to mask the undertone of sheer need.

Your mouth gapes, hesitating to say something but you decide to let your body speak for itself. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and tug him down so your lips crash against his.

The dam finally bursts and Drew's hands fly to wrap around your waist and pull you inside, swiftly closing the door behind you before he has you pinned up against it. His lips worked desperately along the expanse of your neck, trying to be mindful about his marks but he couldn't help himself. He's wanted this for so long-- Needed you for so long.

"Drew-" You gasp as he sucked particularly hard just below your ear, it sends you reeling and your eyes roll back with the little bit of your sanity that remains. "Hm?" He hums into the sweet scent of your skin, the same scent that's taunted him for months.

"Never mind." You dismiss yourself and resume the heated kisses that were paired with your desperate hands. You hastily unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped the back of your dress, all while never breaking the kiss.

It's intense. Your hands ghost over the definition of his abs and he tenses a little as he curses under his breath. Every ounce of contact you made with his body, lit his skin on fire.

Your dress puddles around your ankles once it meets the floor and Drew wastes no time before he's slowly sinking to his knees, your head shakes repeatedly but no words escape.

You're not even sure why you're denying it, your body wasn't functioning correctly--but could you blame it? You had thee Drew Starkey on his knees for you, and he was about to put his mouth to good great use.

Your point is proved once he had your panties on the floor and one leg hooked over his shoulder. His tongue lapped over your folds, languidly at first, as if to test the passion-infested waters.

"Drew--please." That's all it takes. One airy breath from you and he's consuming you from the core. His nose brushes against your clit every so often as his warm, wet tongue slides over your cunt with an unnatural hunger.

Your hands reach out to hold on to something, anything, but you're left to scratch at the door desperately as he works you to till you're tight-roping across the edge. Drew's just as turned on as you are, the rock-solid boner he's sporting beneath his dress pants a true testament to it.

His focus finally shifts to the pearl of your pussy, and you almost wish he'd never moved to it. X would never recover if they knew Drew Starkey ate pussy with his life.

Your legs are beginning to shake and it's a telltale sign that within seconds his name will be the only word falling from your lips. Once it finally hits you, the world crumbles and you feel like an angel falling from heaven. His mouth had pulled you down into the depths of hell, right into his arms and you couldn't be happier.

You make this clear when you pull him up to meet your gaze, he towers over you but you distract yourself from the effect it has on you by taking his thumb and wiping your slick off his swollen pink lips and sucking it off, wrapping your tongue around his thumb until he snaps.

Within the same second, he moves his hands to grab at the sides of your face, kissing you deeply. It's nothing but tongue and there's spit rolling over your bottom lip by the time you're both pulling back, chests heaving, lungs filled with each other's air, but it still wasn't enough.

He's holding onto you like he can never let you go. "You've got no idea how long I've needed this, needed you." He says and it makes your heart stutter in its rhythm. "Oh please," You dismiss him but his left hand stays on your waist while the other gently cups your cheek.

His eyes scan to search for yours in the dimly lit room, the only source of light stemming from the lone lamp beside the bed. "I like you, Y/n. It wasn't a secret. How could it be? I can't help myself around you." His words put a cheesy grin on your face.

"I like you, Drew. Always have. Big fan of your work, by the way." You giggle, referring to the almost degrading acts he'd just committed between your legs, but it evokes a breathy chuckle from him.

"Yeah?" He teases, stepping towards you and you take one step back, but he surprises you and scoops you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he leads you to the bed, tossing you onto your back and he crawls between your legs.

There's one last soft glance between the two of you. No more yearning, no more stealing glances from across the room. Finally, you're in his arms and you fit more perfectly than he could've imagined.

"What?" You say blankly, wondering what had him warped inside his own mind for so long. A smile stretches across his lips, "Nothin', just happy to be here." It's corny, but you laugh anyway. Moaning into the sweet kiss he dropped down to your lips, holding himself up with those big strong arms of his.

The rest is a blur of strong hands and intoxicating kisses that are used to distract you from the sweet burn that engulfed your body into flames as he rolled his hips into yours, letting his cock push into you for the first time.

The gasps you both let out are innocent, shocked and full of bliss from the moment he bottoms out. "Just l-let me know if you want me to slow down at any time, okay?" The sentiment comes out through clenched teeth as he refrains from any sudden movements.

The heat of your velvet walls convulsing around him is driving him to a point beyond insanity. "Oh god, start moving--please," you whine and Drew's body shudders.

"Fuck, don't beg. I'll give you anything you want, baby." He seals his promise with an accelerated pace, his cock driving in and out of you at a steady rhythm that had you arching into him, eyes screwed shut and unable to meet his gaze."

"Hey, hey, look at me." He deepens his thrusts and it makes the requirements of his words that much harder to meet. Struggling, your eyes flutter open but you shy away under his piercing gaze.

He looked too good for a man fucking your brains out. The way his jaw worked, locked in place from concentrations. His body was coated in a thin sheet of sweat that made him glisten under the rays of the lamp.

"God, you look perfect. So gorgeous." He flatters you and it heightens your high tenfold. Your hands reach out to grab onto the sheets of his bed but he offers you his hand instead. Giving it an assuring squeeze as you tumble into a vortex of euphoria. "I'm-" Interrupted by your own orgasm you short-circuit and the sight of you unravelling underneath him is enough to make him cum.

"Y/n-- shit!" He groans, hips stuttering rapidly until he blows his load and holds his place over you. The room goes quiet, filled with nothing but the consistent attempts for you to catch your breath. When you're ready, he pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it out.

"I'm gonna head to the shower," It falls from your lips suggestively but Drew waits for you to make your intentions clear. He licks his lips as he watches you strut your way to the bathroom, stopping once you're in the frame.

There's a charming grin you flash him from over your shoulder, "You coming or what?"

He was in fact coming. Twice, in the shower, you made sure the first time you repaid the favour with your mouth that was too talented for him to handle. His palm held your hair tight in a makeshift ponytail, holding onto the glass for his life before he fucked you up against it.

Sensically, there were no condoms available in the shower and you both recognized the risk you'd be taking but anything was worth the risk if it involved you. Besides, you both swore this would be the first and last time you fuck raw.

What a lie.

The minute you felt the unfiltered length of his cock slip into you, you knew it was a done deal. This was going to be a very big problem for both of you in the near future. He's your new addiction and you'll never quit.

The following morning the cast was expected to meet each other downstairs at 11 am for brunch, but here you are, tangled up under Drew's sheets at 1 in the afternoon after waking up only 20 minutes earlier. Your excessive sexcapades from the night before had worn you both out.

The blankets are covering your bodies as Drew slides between your folds with leisure, taking his time and fucking you open intimately. "You think they noticed we're missing?" Drew breathes out and your arms go to wrap around his neck as you answer. "Definitely. I'm not sure, but I think Madison was betting on this."

"Give her whatever she's owed. She wins, and god I'm so glad."

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav, @rafeycameronsgf, @moonlitunicorn, @thepopcultureaddict, @livinobx, @rafeycameronsgf.

[deansbeer]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ྀི dean winchester x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ྀི he shows up at your door after years away doing god knows what, and suddenly you’re sneaking around behind your brother’s back.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ྀི smut | sneaking around | brother’s best friend trope | unprotected sex (use the damn rubber) | oral sex (f!receiving) | multiple orgasms | possessiveness | risk of getting caught | dirty talk | quiet sex | slight moment of vulnerability.

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ྀི the girlies chose dean, so here he is. this was proofread, but not entirely. i gave up halfway through because i'm exhausted from today. also to my simon girlies, his fic will be posted soon! <3 literally 3.1k words. i’m beat.

divider creds, @haecunt !

you’re elbow-deep in anatomy flashcards when the knock comes at your door. it’s nearly midnight on a thursday, and your brother won’t be home from his shift at the hospital for another three hours. you almost ignore it – probably just drunk college kids at the wrong apartment – but something makes you get up and check the peephole.

your heart stops. dean fucking winchester is standing outside your door, hands shoved in the pockets of that leather jacket you’d recognize anywhere. you haven’t seen him in what, four years? not since that summer before you started college, when he and your brother had some massive falling out that neither of them would explain. one day dean was there, sprawled on your couch playing video games, and the next he was gone. no goodbye, no explanation, just gone.

you open the door before you can think better of it. “dean?” his name comes out as barely a whisper, like saying it too loud might make him disappear again. he looks older, harder somehow. there’s a cut healing on his jaw and his eyes carry weight they didn’t before. but that crooked smile when he sees you? that’s exactly the same.

“hey there, sweetheart.” the nickname hits you like a physical thing.

he’d called you that since you were thirteen and desperately crushing on your older brother’s best friend. back then it was teasing, meant to make you blush and stomp off. now, at twenty-two, it sounds different coming from his lips. deeper. intentional. “gonna let me in, or we doing this reunion right here?”

you step aside wordlessly, brain still trying to process that he’s actually here. He brushes past you, and fuck, he still smells the same – leather and something spicy and fundamentally dean. you close the door and lean against it, needing the support. “what are you doing here?” the question comes out more accusatory than intended. “tt's been four years, dean. four years of nothing, and now you just show up?”

he has the decency to look guilty, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he knew he’d fucked up. “i know. i’m sorry, i just...” he trails off, eyes roaming over you like he's drinking you in. “shit, you grew up.” his words are quiet, almost reverent, and heat floods your face.

“that tends to happen,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re acutely aware that you’re in tiny sleep shorts and an old metallica band tee – his metallica band tee, you realize with embarrassment. one he'd left behind years ago that you’d claimed for pajamas. if he notices, he doesn’t comment, but his eyes definitely linger. “seriously, Dean. why are you here? and don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood. nobody’s just in the neighborhood of san diego.”

he sighs, sinking onto your couch like he belongs there. like the last five years haven’t happened. “was up at stanford,” he admits, and your eyebrows raise. stanford. where his not-so-little brother sam goes. “just... checking on sam. from a distance. kid doesn’t know i was there,” something in his voice breaks a little. “then i figured i was already in california, might as well...”

“might as well drop in on the other family you abandoned?” your words are harsh, but you’re angry. angry at him for leaving, angry at yourself for how fucking happy you are to see him despite everything. “jake’s not here, if that’s who you're looking for. he’s at work."

“i know.” he looks up at you, and those green eyes are intense in a way that makes your stomach flip. “his shift at UCSD Medical doesn’t end until three. figured we could talk without him trying to punch me in the face.” he pauses. “again.”

your brother had punched dean? that explains the sudden disappearance a bit more. you move closer despite yourself, settling on the opposite end of the couch. “what happened between you two? jake never told me.” you pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself smaller. “one day you were here all the time, the next you were just... gone. do you know how worried i was?”

dean’s expression softens. “fuck, i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i really am. some shit went down with my dad, with the family business. things got complicated.” he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled spikes. “jake didn’t approve of some choices i made. said i was throwing my life away, that i was gonna drag sam down with me. we both said shit we couldn’t take back.”

family business. you remember john winchester, how he’d drift in and out of dean’s life, always pulling him away for weeks at a time. how dean would come back with bruises he’d brush off and a darkness in his eyes that would take days to fade. “the family business,” you repeat slowly. “what kind of business has you showing up looking like you’ve been in a bar fight?”

he touches the cut on his jaw absently. “again, it’s complicated,” his standard answer for anything involving his dad. “but i’m handling it. been handling it.” he shifts closer, just slightly, but you notice. “tell me about you. medical school, huh? following in big brother’s footsteps?”

the change of subject is obvious, but you let it slide. for now. “year two at SDSU. it’s kicking my ass, but i love it.” you gesture at the disaster of textbooks and notes on your coffee table. “currently drowning in anatomy and physiology. jake’s been helping when he can, but his residency keeps him pretty busy.”

“proud of you,” dean says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tight. “always knew you’d do something amazing. even when you were thirteen and following us around like a puppy.” the teasing is gentle, familiar, and you find yourself relaxing despite your better judgment.

“i did not follow you around like a puppy,” you protest, but you’re fighting a smile now. “i was just... interested in what you guys were doing. very normal behavior.” he laughs, and the sound warms something inside you that’s been cold for four years.

“sure, sweetheart. all those times you just happened to need something from the garage when we were working on my car? total coincidence.” he’s full-on grinning now, and it’s devastating. you’d forgotten how beautiful he was when he really smiled. “or when you suddenly developed an interest in whatever video game we were playing?”

“shut up,” you mutter, throwing a pillow at him. he catches it easily, reflexes sharp as ever. “i was a kid with a crush. sue me.” the admission slips out before you can stop it, and his expression shifts, becoming something hungrier.

“was?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “past tense?” he sets the pillow aside and moves closer, eliminating the safe distance you’d maintained. “that mean you don’t have a crush anymore, or that you’re not a kid anymore?”

oh god, your heart is racing. this is dangerous territory, especially with your brother due home in a few hours. but dean’s looking at you like he wants to devour you, and you’re now twenty-two years old and tired of pretending you don’t still think about him. “‘m definitely not a kid anymore,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes steadily.

“no,” he agrees, gaze dropping to your lips. “you’re definitely not,” the air between you is charged, electric. you should move away. should remember that this is your brother's best friend – former best friend – and that jake would lose his mind if he knew dean was even here. should remember that dean left once without a word and could do it again.

instead, you lean in. his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

“we shouldn’t,” he says, but he’s leaning in too. “jake would kill me. hell, i promised him i’d stay away from you both.” his thumb traces your bottom lip. “but fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about this. about you.”

“then stop thinking,” you whisper, and close the distance between you. the kiss is nothing like the innocent peck you’d imagined when you were younger. this is fire and demand, four years of absence and want poured into the connection. dean kisses like he does everything else – with complete focus and devastating skill.

his hands tangle in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. you make a noise you’d be embarrassed about under other circumstances, climbing into his lap without breaking contact. “fuck,” he groans against your mouth, hands dropping to your hips. “we can’t— your brother—”

“isn’t home for three more hours,” you finish, rolling your hips experimentally. the friction makes both of you gasp. “unless you’re gonna disappear again the second this is over?” it’s meant to be teasing, but real hurt bleeds through. his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still.

“nah,” he says firmly, pulling back to look at you. “‘m not going anywhere. not this time.” there's something in his eyes that makes you believe him. “might have to be careful around jake, but i’m done staying away. four years was long enough.”

you kiss him again, harder this time, and he responds immediately. his hands slide under your shirt – his shirt – and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. “bedroom,” you gasp when he moves to your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “dean, my bedroom, now.”

he stands easily, lifting you with him like you weigh nothing. you wrap your legs around his waist, attacking his neck with kisses as he navigates to your room. “which one?” he asks, voice rough, and you point to the door on the right. he kicks it closed behind you, pressing you against it immediately.

“gotta be quiet,” he warns, even though you both know the apartment above yours is empty and jake won't be home for hours. “think you can be quiet for me, sweetheart?” his hand slides into your shorts, finding you already wet, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “atta girl. quiet as a mouse while i take you apart.”

that makes you clench around nothing. dean notices, of course he does, and grins against your throat. “you like that, huh? filthy girl,” his fingers tease your entrance, never quite giving you what you need. “you’ve been mine for years, haven’t you? even when i wasn’t here.”

“mhm,” you admit with a hum, past the point of pretending otherwise. “always, dean—please.” he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and you have to bite his shoulder to keep from crying out. he walks you to the bed, laying you down carefully without removing his hand.

“so fuckin’ wet,” he marvels, fingers working you expertly. “this all for me?” you nod frantically, hips moving to meet his thrusts. “words, baby. need to hear you.” his thumb finds your clit, and you’re seeing stars.

“all for you,” you gasp out, struggling to keep your voice down. “only you, dean. please, need more.” he adds a third finger, stretching you perfectly, and you’re already embarrassingly close. “gonna come–” you warn, and he speeds up, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

“c’mon, sweetheart. come for me. wanna see you fall apart on my fingers,” his words push you over the edge, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. you turn your head and bite your pillow to muffle your cry, body arching off the bed. “you’re beautiful,” he breathes, working you through it. “knew you’s be beautiful when you came.”

when you can think again, he’s stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that’s broader than you remember and decorated with scars that definitely weren’t there before. your hands trace them gently, and something vulnerable flashes across his face. “dean, what happened to you?”

“life happened,” he says vaguely, but then he’s kissing you again and you let it go. for now. his hands make quick work of your remaining clothes, and then you’re naked beneath him, feeling exposed and wanting all at once. “wow,” he breathes, eyes raking over you. “you’re perfect, baby. better than i imagined.”

“you imagined?” the thought of dean thinking about you, fantasizing about this, makes a heat pool in your belly again. he grins, that cocky smile that used to make teenage-you weak in the knees. still does, if you’re being honest.

“‘course i did. you think i didn’t notice you growing up? took everything i had to stay away, especially that last summer.” his hand trails down your body, reacquainting himself with territory he's never actually explored. “you were eighteen, wearing those tiny shorts and following me around with those eyes. fuck, sweetheart, i’m not a saint.”

“why didn’t you—” your question dies as he moves down your body, settling between your thighs. “dean, what are you—” his mouth on you cuts off any coherent thought. you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise that escapes, hips bucking up involuntarily.

he pulls back just enough to speak. “dreamed about tasting you. gonna make you come on my tongue, then i’m gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else exists.” he dives back in, tongue working magic that has you seeing stars. it’s too much and not enough, and when he adds fingers to the mix, you have to bite your hand to stay quiet.

your second orgasm builds faster than the first, dean’s name a chanted prayer in your head since you can’t say it out loud. he hums against you, the vibration sending you over the edge with a muffled cry. he works you through it, only pulling away when you push weakly at his head.

“taste even better than i imagined,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. the casual obscenity of it makes you clench. “think you can take me now, baby? need to be inside you.” you nod wordlessly, reaching for him. he sheds his remaining clothes quickly, and your eyes widen at the sight of him.

“that’s... you’re...” he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with, and the smug grin says he knows it. “dean, i don’t know if—” he kisses you quiet, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“you can take it, baby,” he assures you, positioning himself at your entrance. “know you can. gonna go slow, okay? don’t wanna hurt you,” the gentleness in his voice contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. he pushes in slowly, and the stretch is intense, borderline too much. “that’s it, sweetheart. doing s’good for me.”

when he’s finally buried inside you to the hilt, you both need a moment. he’s shaking with the effort of holding still, forehead pressed to yours. “you okay?” he asks, and you give him a meek yeah in response, experimentally rolling your hips. the movement makes both of you groan. “you’re so tight, baby. so fuckin’ perfect.”

he starts moving, slow and deep, and you understand why he made you come twice first. you need the preparation to take him like this. “dean,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “feels so good. so big.” he captures your lips, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace.

“yeah? you like being full of me?” his voice is rough, controlled. “been wanting this for so long. wanting to make you mine.” he hits a particularly good angle, and you have to bite his shoulder again to stay quiet. “the things i wanna do to you. wanna fuck you in every room of this apartment. wanna mark you up so everyone knows you’re taken.”

his possessive words make you clench around him. “yes, fuck, yes,” you agree breathlessly. “i want that. want everyone to know.” his rhythm falters slightly, and he groans deep in his chest. “please. harder.”

he obliges, hooking your leg over his shoulder to go deeper. this new angle has you seeing stars, and you can feel another orgasm building. “there you go, baby,” he encourages. “take it. take everything i give you,” his hand finds your clit, and the combination is devastating. “gonna come for me again? gonna come on my big cock?”

you could only nod, beyond words now. the build-up is intense, full-body, and when it hits, you have to muffle your scream in his shoulder. he fucks you through it, chasing his own release. “where?” he grits out, and you understand what he's asking.

“inside,” you gasp, still shaking from aftershocks. “i’m on the pill. i wanna feel you.” your permission breaks his control. he buries himself deep with a groan of your name, and you feel him pulse inside you. the feeling triggers another mini-orgasm, and you cling to him as you both shake through it.

he collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. you’re both panting, sweaty, completely wrecked. “holy shit,” you breathe, and he chuckles against your neck. “that was...”

“yeah,” he agrees, pressing lazy kisses to whatever skin he can reach. “worth waiting four years for.” he pulls out carefully, and you whimper at the loss. “shh, i got you. not going anywhere, baby.” he reaches for your tiny pajama shorts, using it to clean you both up gently. his tenderness makes your chest tight.

you glance at the clock and reality crashes back in. “shit, jake’ll be home in an hour.” dean follows your gaze and sighs. “dean... what are we doing? he’s going to kill us both if he finds out.”

“then we don't let him find out,” dean says simply, pulling you against his chest. “at least not yet. let me figure out how to fix things with him first.” he strokes your hair, and you melt into the touch. "and i meant what i said – i’m not disappearing again. we’ll figure this out.”

you want to believe him. want to believe that this time is different, that he’ll stay. but you’ve been burned before. “promise?” you ask, hating how small your voice sounds. he tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

“i promise, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” he seals it with a kiss, soft and sweet. “now, how about we get dressed and i help you study anatomy? seems like i’d be a pretty good teaching aid,” his innuendo makes you laugh despite everything.

“you're terrible,” you inform him, but you're already reaching for your underwear and his old metallica band tee. because even if this is complicated, even if your brother might actually murder you both, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

not when dean’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. not when you finally have him here, in your bed, in your life.

Maybe it’s worth the risk.

[hearts4hughes]

Please give us a Part. 2 of Rafe giving reader’s earrings to someone else 😭🥹🥹

part one

the next few days were rough. you hated how rafe could suck you back into his black hole after finally recovering from the first time through.

it was stupid, really. who cares if she has your earrings? they’re just a reminder of the years of your life with him. and yet, you still care. you care that she wore them, that she styled them better. you care that he pawned them off to her like they were from a cheap one-night stand.

you could delete his number, throw away all his things, pretend he never existed, but it doesn’t matter. because when the sunsets and the world quiets, you’re tossing and turning in your bed, praying you could fill the hole in your heart that he left.

the knock comes like guilt. it’s ten minutes past noon (you know because you’ve been checking your watch non-stop like it owed you something). you don’t answer at first. you stay curled up in the same hoodie you’ve been wearing since wednesday, half-watching the same show, half-hoping your phone lights up with his name, half-praying it doesn’t. math was never your thing, but you’re getting real good at fractions.

“it’s me.” his voice is hoarse. like he just woke up or hasn’t slept at all.

you don’t say anything. but your chest folds in on itself, bitter and too tender at the edges. it’s not fair, the way his voice still gets to you. still feels like home, even though it scorched every room. you open the door anyway.

he’s standing there in a black tee, wrinkled jeans, eyes hidden behind the kind of sunglasses he only wears when he’s hungover or trying to hide…maybe both.

in his hand he holds your earrings. they’re dangling, delicate, completely contrasting his calloused hands. the same ones he said “weren’t a big deal” when you asked.

you stare at them. then at him. and it’s like a rubber band snaps in your chest. he doesn’t say anything for a second. just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage the guilt out of his spine.

“i was drunk,” he says finally. “that night. i didn’t think.”

you blink. once. twice. “yeah, no shit.”

he flinches. good. a beat passes before he opens his mouth again, “i woke up the next morning hungover and feeling like a complete asshole. it wasn’t fair what i did.” the apology lingers on his tongue, but he’s too prideful and arrogant to say it.

you cross your arms, nails digging into your sleeves. “so what, you came to return them like a library book? little too late for that, don’t you think?”

he looks down and breathes in sharp. he holds it for a few seconds before releasing the breath like it was weight on his shoulders. “i couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says. “about you. how you looked when you wore them. the way you used to play with them when you were nervous. i don’t know. i—” he cuts off, like the words catch in his throat and choke him.

“i told her she had to give them back,” he finishes. “said they weren’t hers to wear. she broke up with me after, but i’m not even sure if we were together.” he shrugs like it was just another day, like that same girl didn’t ruin your entire month.

your chest burns and your vision blurs and somewhere, deep down, something in you unclenches. he holds the earrings out without an argument. he doesn’t try to come inside, doesn’t even meet your eyes—almost as if he was scared he’d say something he’s regret if he did.

“i know i don’t deserve a second chance,” he says, quiet now. “but you deserve your things back. the ones that meant something.”

you don’t take them at first. just stood there with both of your hearts on your sleeves. the air around you feels thick enough to suffocate. then, slowly, your fingers brush his as you reach for them. he shivers…and you hate yourself for noticing.

“you should go,” you whisper because if you don’t say it now, you’ll let him stay. and you don’t know if you’ll survive that again.

he nods once. jaw tight. steps back. but before he turns away, he says it. he’s not loud, not begging. just a soft, broken thing he barely lets himself feel. “i miss you.”

and then he’s gone. you close the door with earrings clutched in your hand and heart bleeding into your sleeves.you miss him too. more than you’re caring to admit.

but this time, missing him has to be enough.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto’s Guard Dog – Part 5

Part 1 Parte 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 636

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n finally kisses Toto, but when Christian Horner catches them and starts running his mouth, she unleashes hell.

________________________________________________________

Y/n had Toto Wolff right where she wanted him.

For weeks, he’d been smirking, teasing, playing his little power games. But now? Now she was in control.

And Toto hated it.

Well, hated might be the wrong word.

Because every time she leaned in just a little too close—every time she touched his tie, ran her fingers down his arm, or murmured something suggestive just for him—his restraint cracked just a little more.

She was winning.

Until, of course, he decided to ruin her life.

It happened in the Mercedes motorhome.

The paddock had been hot, sticky, exhausting. Y/n had been up since sunrise, running around, dealing with logistics, making fun of Horner three times before breakfast—the usual.

By the time she made it back to the hospitality lounge, she was done.

Toto, of course, looked perfectly fine. No sweat, no exhaustion—just standing there in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, watching her like he knew things.

She scowled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His smirk deepened. “Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking.”

Toto chuckled, stepping closer—too close, really. “I was just wondering…” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to push this, schatzi?”

Her breath caught. “Push what?”

Toto leaned in, so close she could feel his breath. “This game of yours.”

For the first time in her life, Y/n was speechless.

And Toto?

Toto knew it.

He chuckled, so smug, and started to pull away.

Absolutely not.

Before he could move, Y/n grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision—weeks of tension snapping like a rubber band, lips crashing, hands tangling in fabric and hair.

Toto made a sound deep in his throat—half surprise, half something much darker—and then his arms were around her, one hand gripping her waist, the other cupping her face as he devoured her.

God, he kissed like he did everything else—completely, overwhelmingly, like he owned her.

Y/n felt dizzy. Drunk. Gone.

And then—

“Ohhhhhh, well isn’t this adorable?”

Y/n and Toto ripped apart.

And there, standing in the doorway, looking way too smug—

Was Christian Horner.

Y/n was going to jail.

She could already see the headlines: Mercedes Strategist Murders Red Bull Team Principal in Broad Daylight.

Horner was grinning. “I knew there was something going on with you two.” He wagged a finger between them. “You know, Toto, for all your talk about professionalism, this seems very—”

“Get out.” Y/n’s voice was deadly.

Horner ignored her. “Honestly, this explains so much. The guard dog routine? The constant defending?” He smirked. “Tell me, Y/n, is it loyalty or are you just whipped?”

Toto tensed.

Y/n saw red.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she snapped. “You want to talk about being whipped? You’re the one whose wife has to publicly defend you every other week because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Horner’s smirk faltered.

Y/n wasn’t done.

“You have the audacity to call me Toto’s guard dog when you’re literally running around begging for scraps of validation from a team that doesn’t even like you? How embarrassing.” She took a step closer. “You think I’m obsessed with him? Sweetheart, you’re obsessed with beating him. And you never will.”

Horner opened his mouth—then shut it.

And for the first time ever, Christian Horner had nothing to say.

Y/n smiled sweetly. “Now. Get out.”

Horner turned on his heel and left.

The second the door shut, Toto let out a long whistle. “Mein Gott.”

Y/n turned to him, still fuming. “I hate him.”

Toto grinned. “I know.”

She crossed her arms. “I—”

Before she could finish, Toto grabbed her face and kissed her again.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he owned her.

Like he was saying, Mine.

And Y/n?

She kissed him back.

[wendichester]

hiiiii! I think it would be really cool if you wrote a Dean x reader inspired by lay all your love on me by abba, like she was always chill but she just started dating Dean and yk what deans like, a flirt, so she gets jealous or something?

-💌

⋆˚꩜｡ don't go wasting your emotion,

summary. everything's going smooth between you and dean. that is--of course--til the moment he starts flirting with some blonde waitress right in front of you. oh, honey... he's got it wrong.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. tense n' steamy

wordcount. 649

notes / warnings.oh, the hardship that is dating someone like dean winchester sigh // jealousy, reader getting possessive, strong language, suggestive dialogue, heated tension.

You were fine.

Totally fine.

Until you weren’t.

Because watching Dean Winchester lay that crooked smile on a blonde waitress for just a little too long? Laughing too loud, leaning in too close, letting her write her number on the damn receipt?

Yeah. That cracked something open.

You’re quiet all the way back to the bunker. Arms crossed. Eyes on the window. Dean doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he’s just pretending not to.

Figures.

He throws the Impala in park like nothing happened, tapping the steering wheel with that usual cocky rhythm. “That was a pretty decent burger, huh?”

You don’t answer.

He glances over. “Okay. What’s up?”

You swing the car door open without a word and stalk inside.

“Hey,” he calls after you. “What the hell?”

The door slams. He follows you into the war room, boots heavy on the concrete floor.

“Alright, you gonna give me the silent treatment now?”

You whip around so fast it makes his brows jump.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Your voice is low, sharp. “Should’ve waited till your waitress girlfriend left her shift.”

Dean’s head tilts. “Waitress… what?”

You scoff. “You’re unbelievable, Dean.”

He blinks. “What the hell did I do?”

“She gave you her number,” you snap, arms crossed, heartbeat in your throat. “And you let her. Smiled at her like she was the highlight of your night.”

His jaw clenches. “Jesus. Are you jealous?”

You hate how the word makes your cheeks burn. Hate that he says it like it’s funny.

“No,” you lie, obviously. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, come on.” He throws his hands up. “I was being nice.”

“Nice?” You take a step forward, voice rising. “I’ve seen you be nice. That wasn’t nice. That was full-on flirting.”

“She wrote her number, not me asking for it!”

“But you didn’t throw it away.”

He’s silent. For a beat too long.

You laugh bitterly. “God, I was stupid. Thought maybe this—whatever this is between us—was different for you.”

Dean’s eyes flash.

“It is different,” he says, stepping closer. “You think I take just anyone home? Let just anyone sleep in my bed?”

“Well, I don’t know, Dean,” you shoot back. “You sure act like I’m just another girl in a bar.”

He’s in front of you now. Chest rising. Jaw tight.

“You’re not,” he growls.

You hold your ground.

“Then act like it.”

He grabs your wrist—gentle but firm—and backs you up until your spine hits the wall.

“I flirt,” he says, voice low, “because it’s easier than feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I might actually lose my damn mind if you ever walk away.”

You stop breathing.

“I’ve never had something this real,” he says. “So yeah, I flirt. It’s habit. But you—” he swallows hard, eyes flicking between yours “—you’re not just another girl. You’re the one I don’t want anyone else looking at. Touching. Thinking about.”

Your fingers tighten in his jacket.

“Then maybe you should remember that next time some blonde bats her lashes.”

He huffs a breath—half growl, half groan—and crashes his mouth to yours.

It’s hot and angry and needy. All tongue and teeth and months of tension snapping like a rubber band. He fists your hair. You bite his lip. He presses you hard into the wall like he’s trying to melt into your skin.

Your legs hitch around his waist before you even realize what you’re doing.

“You wanna know something?” he mutters against your mouth. “You losing your shit over me? Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You tug his hair, making him hiss. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m already cocky,” he smirks. “But right now, I’m yours.”

You look him dead in the eye, panting.

“Good,” you whisper. “Lay all your love on me, Winchester.”

And he does.

Hard.

Fast.

Devoted.

Because Dean might flirt with the world—but every inch of him belongs to you.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[roanofarcc]

THE BLEEDING, BEATING HEART

pairing: yelena belova x reader (requested)

summary: yelena struggles to find her footing in a team dynamic after so many years of working alone, but when things get tough she has you to lean on.

warnings: self-doubt, sad yelena, a little bit of hurt with comfort! mentions of the OG avengers

word count. 1.2k || masterlist

It was early, too early to be awake, but your mind decided to wake long before your body was ready to take on the day. With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and dragged yourself to the kitchen of the Watchtower, desperate for a mug of coffee. 

It was a rare day off for the team, as long as no major threats decided to sweep in, so you believed everyone to still be sleeping until you noticed a pot of coffee already made and at least two cups missing. 

No one was in the kitchen or the living room. Curious as to who was awake at such an early hour, you quietly made your way through the spots in the tower where anyone else could have been. Landing outside the training room, which was still half under construction, you heard repetitive grunts in time with hits on one of the punching bags. 

Stepping inside, holding the warm mug of coffee between your hands, you spotted Yelena. She was wide awake, dressed in her training gear, and a good while into her set. Her blonde hair was slicked back and sweat beaded her forehead. 

“Yelena,” you called out. She stopped, holding her balled fists at her chest. “This doesn’t look like taking a day off.” 

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m relaxing.” 

You raised your brows, stepping closer to her. “You seem awfully tense, actually.” It looked as if her whole body was pulled like a rubber band waiting to be snapped. You had noticed her odd behavior for the past week, but you had chalked it up to the shit-show that was the latest mission. 

As the ‘woman in the chair,’ you weren’t on site for their missions, but rather managing comms, taking down intel, and acting as their eyes from above if you were able to hack your way into a security system. Even without being on site, you knew the mission hadn’t gone as everyone had hoped. It was messy, dangerous, and almost resulted in major injuries if it hadn’t been for the team's watchful eye for one another. Despite the mission being completed and deemed a technical success, when they arrived home, you knew their mistakes and missteps weighed on them. You especially saw it in Yelena. 

Yelena huffed, dropping her hands at her sides before grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her face. “You know, I could ask you the same question. Why are you awake?” 

“Well, I thought it was because my mind refuses to shut off for too many hours, but now I’m thinking it was gut telling me to check up on you.” 

“I don’t need to be checked up on,” Yelena said, turning her back to you as she rummaged through her training bag for a water bottle. 

If it had been months prior, you would have let her be after that, but you had grown to know Yelena over your time spent living at the tower together. She was impossibly tough, but there was a softness that wasn’t often taken care of and overlooked by other herself and everyone else. But you saw it, a little weakness that made her human, much to her dismay. 

You placed a hand on her shoulder, half expecting her to shrug you off, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned around to face you and hung her head. “Fine,” she muttered. “I screwed up. I made a bad call during the mission, and I…I don’t know what I was thinking, but now I can’t think of anything else. Okay? Happy?” She fell back on the bench, and you followed, sitting beside her with enough space between you so as to not make her feel suffocated. 

“You’re not perfect, Yelena. No one is. You made a call that you thought was right, and it wasn’t,” you said. “It happens. It’ll probably happen again, but the important thing is you realized it and you corrected it.” 

“Yeah, but not before Walker took a bullet in the arm,” Yelena sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “They looked to me to take the call, and I…I let them down. I don’t know how to do this.” 

You furrowed your brows, watching her intently. “Do what?” 

She didn’t meet your gaze but rather kept her focus forward. “Work as a team. I’ve been on my own, doing missions on my own for so long. Reporting to someone else is one thing, but being the one others look at to make decisions is pressure I don’t know if I can handle. Why me? Why do they look to me?” 

Despite the hurt that her words drew, you smiled softly, itching to reach out for her but refraining. Yelena was a complicated person with an even more complicated past. You didn’t want to push her, even if you ached to hold her hand, hug her, even brush some loose strands of hair behind her ear. 

“Probably for the same reason the Avengers looked at your sister during the Blip.” 

Yelena snapped her attention onto you, startled and confused. You had been there during the Blip, when the disbanded team crawled back together. It was Nastasha who called you in, once having you aid in undercover missions when you were a fresh-faced S.H.I.E.L.D operative who had a hunch something darker was going on within the organization. You had been young, inexperienced in the world of super-powered humans, betrayal, and complicated politics, but you had helped regardless, getting yourself in a fair amount of trouble. You had been lying low when the Blip happened, only to find Nastasha at your front door asking you if you wanted to help save the universe. 

You couldn’t give much, but you had nothing else to lose or to do. You watched the Avengers and company bring everyone back, only to lose Natasha and others in the process. 

“Steve had said, even before then, that your sister was the heart of the Avengers. The bleeding, beating heart. I think you, Yelena, are so much like her.” You turned toward her, bumping your knees against hers. “You’re the heart of this team; that’s why they look to you.” 

Many emotions flickered across Yelena’s face, but she landed on a glossy-eyed gaze with her lips pointed downwards in a frown. “My sister was a hero. She helped save the universe. I could hardly lead the team through a standard intel removal.” 

“Everyone else seems to think you’re a hero.” 

She laughed humorlessly, looking up at the light like she was trying to prevent any tears from leaking out. “Because Valentina set us up so we wouldn’t kill her right there on the street.” 

“Fair, but that was after you guys saved Bob and the city. That sounds like a hero to me,” you said. “This team trusts you because they can see what I see. What the Avengers saw in your sister, they see it in you.”

Yelena’s head tipped down, a few tears falling with it. She grumbled under her breath and wiped her cheeks. “Shit. You cannot say things that make me cry this early.” 

With a hesitant hand, you softly squeezed Yelena’s knee. She stared at it for a moment before letting herself linger in her feelings a little longer. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around you, her head falling onto your shoulder. You hugged her back tightly. 

“Maybe you should start doing the pep talks before missions instead of Alexei,” Yelena mumbled into your shoulder, tired body heavy against yours. 

You snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, you try telling him that.”

[sturnswiftie]

crybaby!reader wonders if she really tastes that good...

contains ⟶ smut (MDNI.) oral (female receiving), dealer!chris getting off on her tears.

you’re lying on your stomach, chin resting on folded arms, and your cheeks still warm from crying earlier—even though chris already kissed the tears off your face an hour ago. you’re not entirely sure why, but you’ve been so emotional today—far more than usual—and every little thing thus far has left you a sniffly mess, your brows pinched and your lips pursed into a soft pout. your cheeks are still slightly sticky from your boyfriend’s sweet kisses, the thought causing your mind to drift for a moment before you’re tilting your head to the side and voicing your thoughts aloud.

“do i really taste that good?” you mumble, barely above a whisper, but loud enough to catch his attention.

chris, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed counting the cash from his last drop, glances over his shoulder. one eyebrow arches. “what?”

you peek up at him through your lashes, sniffling a little. “well, you always say i do. like... ‘sweet’ this, ‘sugar’ that... or telling me how good i taste when you’re, y’know...” you trail off, a warm flush creeping up your neck at the insinuation.

but chris smirks, slow and lazy, like a wolf just handed a lamb. the rubber band snaps around the stack of bills as he tosses it aside. “you think i’m just sayin’ that to gas you up?”

“i dunno,” you reply, voice small. “i just—what if i’m not? what if i’m just... regular?” you ask curiously, but you’re immediately embarrassed by the light crack in your voice, tears already threatening the corners of your eyes again.

chris is already crawling over by the time you finish your sentence, one hand slipping under your chin to tilt your face up. “sweetheart,” he says, voice low, almost amused. “you cry like you were made to be tasted. every time i touch you, it’s like sugar’s pourin’ outta your skin.”

your lower lip trembles with the emotion still being held back, but your boyfriend distracts you by leaning in close, his mouth barely brushing against your ear. “but if you really need me to prove it...”

your breath stutters, but you don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing you down onto the mattress, settling between your thighs like it’s where he belongs. instinctively, your thighs part to accommodate him, and his gaze immediately falls to the sight of your bare, pink pussy just waiting for him to taste it, a soft groan falling from his mouth.

“my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he praises quietly, the sight of him drinking you in sending a desperate pang to the pit of your stomach.

“y’wanna know how good you taste?” he murmurs, one forearm wrapping itself around your left thigh, his fingers spreading out over the soft skin of your abdomen. when he looks up at you from between your legs, you flush a deep shade of pink. “i think about it all the fuckin’ time, baby. can never get enough of you.”

chris kisses the inside of your thigh, then again, but slower, wetter, trailing up like he’s savoring every inch of you. the hand pressed down on your abdomen holds you firmly in place when he finally lowers his mouth, tongue flattening against your slick folds with a groan that sounds like he’s been craving this all fucking day.

“oh—chris!” you whine, your hands flying to his hair, your grip tight on the dark strands just as he begins to devour your pussy like you’re the first sweet thing he’s ever tasted and the last thing he ever wants to forget.

he smirks against you as he eats you out, moving his tongue deep and slow, and then fast and precise, like he knows you better than you know yourself. the sounds—sloppy and shameless—would be embarrassing if you weren’t so mesmerized by the way he’s eating your pussy like he wants you to hear just how obsessed he is with the way you melt on his tongue.

“not regular,” he eventually grits out between licks, mouth slick with your arousal. “you taste like fuckin’ candy. like you were made for this—made for me.”

only broken moans leave your parted lips in response, tears springing to your eyes again. not only does chris moan when he sees it, but he pulls you closer, tongue flicking just right against your swollen clit until the muscles in your thighs are quivering, and your chest is moving rapidly with short, shallow pants.

“ch-chris, i can’t—” you try to say, but your cut off by a strangled cry, your thighs tightening around your boyfriend’s head with your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“that’s it,” he growls against you, like he’s addicted to the whimpers leaving your mouth. “gonna cum for me, crybaby? my perfect girl’s gonna give me a taste, huh?” he encourages you, the sickly sweet praises timed with the rhythmic movements of his mouth on your pussy finally pushing you over the edge.

and when you finally break, trembling under his mouth, your breath hitching on a sob that makes your thighs clamp around his head, chris just groans like he’s never had anything better. like this is what he’s been chasing all night and nothing else could satisfy the craving.

he doesn’t stop until you’re gasping his name like a prayer, only then finally pulling back enough that you can see his jaw slick and lips swollen, a smirk directed down at your messy, tear-stained face.

“don’t ever ask me that shit again,” he mutters, dragging his thumb along your sensitive slit. “you don’t just taste good, baby—you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

©sturnswiftie

divider by; @bernardsbendystraws

[skeltnwrites]

Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail. 

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos 

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?” 

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.” 

“Please hold,” the operator says. 

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning. 

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle. 

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper. 

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.” 

“What happened, Eds?” 

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.” 

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone. 

“You’re sure? It’s enough?” 

“Swear.” 

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks. 

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van. 

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby. 

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway. 

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown. 

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?” 

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit. 

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside. 

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive. 

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?” 

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door. 

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood. 

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in. 

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hmm?” 

You point at your own cheek. 

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles. 

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?” 

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“ 

“You hit Shelly Watkins?” 

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!” 

You shake your head, trying to recall. 

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.” 

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already. 

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’” 

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be. 

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache. 

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke. 

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot. 

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight. 

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green. 

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet. 

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you. 

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away. 

“‘s cold.” 

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter. 

“Sit,” you tell him. 

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky. 

 “Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously. 

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.” 

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loving the time and touch. 

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start. 

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.” 

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?” 

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.” 

“For what?” 

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back. 

“Still, sorry.” 

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist. 

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.” 

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you. 

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead. 

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare. 

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.” 

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“ 

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping. 

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.” 

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!” 

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!” 

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

[bullet-prooflove]

Masochist: Jack Abbott x Reader (The Pitt)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty

Jack’s not suicidal, not really.

It may look like that when he’s standing on the edge of the building staring down at the sidewalk but the truth is he’s just trying to get himself to feel something. Anything.

Fear, anger, joy.

He’d welcome any of them after a night in The Pitt. He’s worked hard to compartmentalise, to shut down his emotions so he can do the gruelling shit that needs to be done. The problem with that is regulation because turning them back on…

Well, he hasn’t figured that part out yet.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He curses as a sharp pinch on his ass stabs through the numbness. He turns to see you standing there on the opposite side of the guard rail ready to do it again before he slaps your hand away.

“I’m good! I’m good!” He snaps at you, climbing back over to the safe side of the railing.

“You are now.” You say with a smirk that should piss him off, instead it lightens him because you’ve just brought him back from the brink. Again.

A little snap of pain like that, it’s enough to jumpstart his synapses, get him functioning. He used to do it himself with a rubber band but then he got used to it. Now you surprise him with it, a little pinch on his ass whenever he loses himself to the grind.

He’s a masochist at heart, he told you when you first met. He hasn’t disproven it yet.

“If you weren’t so fucking beautiful…” He mutters, his arm wrapping around your waist he draws you to him. The scent of your perfume floods his system, something light and floral, reminding him of the first bursts of daffodils in the spring. He buries his face into the curve of your throat, drinking it in as he holds you close, savouring the softness of your curves. “Tell me you’re getting off shift so I can take you home and fuck you in our bed.”

This is the other thing that happens when you pinch him, that surge of adrenaline, it gets him hard, makes him wanting and after twelve hours in this hell hole, he’s very wanting.

“Two more hours.” You tell him and he huffs against your throat in displeasure. Your hand winds through his hair, grasping at the roots, tugging as you tilt his head back to meet your gaze. He hisses at the sensation, every single nerve ending in his body lighting up like the Fourth of July. He wasn’t kidding about the masochist thing, he’s always needed a little pain to get him off. “Go home, take a shower and be in bed by the time I get back. I’ll ravage you then.”

“Christ.” He whines, his hands squeezing your hips as you release your grip on his hair. “Why will you never let me fuck you on the roof?”

The sound of helicopter blades sounds in the distance and you both glance up to see the red and white chopper making it’s way towards the helipad you’re standing on.

“That.” You say, pointing at the rescue vehicle. “That is why I don’t let you fuck me on the roof.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[puppym3]

୨⎯ "temptation" ⎯୧

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bangchan x fem!reader

a result of the poll win! (cockwarming w chan)

summary: after waking up and realizing your boyfriend isn't next to you, you find him still working in his office. after asking him to join you in bed and his many refusals, you try convince him to join you.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, established relationship, pet names (princess, baby, good girl, love), piv, unprotected sex, cockwarming (obvi), teasing, creampie, soft dom chan, chan is a workaholic, reader is needy, aftercare; (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: the poll was super close!! so i'm gonna post another poll that should be on my page now if you want to vote for the next one! i hope i didn't disappoint with this one;;; hope you enjoy reading!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

I felt the faint glow of the moonlight spread across my face from the cracks in the curtain. I stirred, my fingers brushing against the cool silk sheets where my boyfriend should be. The coldness of his absence was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—2:00 AM.

I sat up, the chill of the night air sending shivers down my spine. Wrapping myself in the blanket, I slipped out of bed, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. I lazily threw on one of Chan’s shirts and slithered out of the bedroom.

As I moved through the hallway, I knew exactly where I was going to find him at this hour. My gaze fell on the closed door of his office. The faintest sliver of light seeped out from underneath it. I sighed, approaching the door and gently pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of his screen casting a pale light over his face. Chan was hunched over his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen. Papers and notebooks were scattered around him, and a half-empty cup of coffee sitting right next to his laptop.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him work. His brows were furrowed in concentration, a small crease forming on his forehead. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry.

“Babe?” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't look up, too engrossed in whatever he was working on. I padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind, resting my cheek against his head.

“Hmm?” he responded, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

“It's 2 AM,” I murmured, nuzzling his hair. “Why are you still working?”

“I have a lot of work,” he sighed, not sounding very convincing.

“But you can finish it in the morning, right?” I pressed, my voice tired.

“I just want to get it done,” he mumbled, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

“Chan, come on,” I pleaded, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” he groaned, leaning back against me. “I need to get this done.”

I sighed, feeling his warmth seep through my shirt.

"Come on, babe," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of annoyance and playfulness. "I'm cold and I need your warmth to sleep."

He didn't respond, still lost in his work. I let out a small huff, a hint of irritation creeping into my voice.

"Baby, please," I pleaded, "I miss you and I can't sleep without you."

When he still didn’t budge, I decided to change tactics. Giving up on trying to pull him away, I slid onto his lap, straddling him. I pressed myself close, trying to make it impossible for him to ignore me.

His breath hitched at the sudden contact, and his hands faltered. I smirked to myself, knowing that I had gotten his attention.

"What are you doing, love?" he breathed, finally looking at me.

Chan's eyes dropped to my legs, and his gaze lingered on the expanse of skin visible beneath the hem of his shirt. I could sense his attention, his focus snapping back to me like a rubber band. His fingers tightened around my waist, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he realized I was only wearing his shirt. The fabric was thin, and I knew he could feel the heat of my skin through it.

"Wha- Why are you wearing that?" he asked, his voice sounding strained

"I'm cold," I replied, my tone light and teasing. "And I thought it would be cozy to wear your shirt."

I leaned in close, brushing my lips against his ear. "Besides," I whispered, "It makes me feel a little bit closer to you."

I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his focus on the screen. His hands slowly slid up my sides, tracing the contours of my body under his shirt. My heart raced as I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his neck.

"Chan," I whispered, my voice low and sultry. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of my stomach, sending shivers down my spine.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before finally looking up at me. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a mix of desire and reluctance.

"I can’t stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I have so much work to do."

"I know," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.

But I was too far gone, so needy for him, feeling his half-hard bulge pressing against me. I shifted slightly on his lap, rubbing against him slowly and deliberately.

Chan’s breathing grew uneven, and his gaze flickered between the screen and me, struggling to maintain his composure. The more I rubbed, the more his resolve weakened. He tried to focus on his work, but his concentration faltered with every brush of my body against his.

"You’re going to kill me," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he shifted slightly against me. His fingers trembled on the keyboard, his attention divided between the screen and the intense need pulsing through him.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard press of his bulge making his struggle clear. His eyes were dark with desire, and I knew I had him where I wanted. I rubbed against him with increasing insistence.

"Channie," I whispered, my voice laced with desperation.

I continued to grind against him, feeling his erection grow beneath me. His fingers dug into my hips, and I could sense the heat building between us. I let out a soft moan, my body aching for more.

His breath was warm against my skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing my neck. "God, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse. The sensation sent a jolt of desire through me, and I whimpered, feeling my need grow stronger.

He let out a low groan as he slipped his fingers underneath my panties, teasing me. I could feel the slickness between my legs, my arousal intensifying. "You're so wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You need this, don’t you?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "I need you," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled, slipping his hand into my panties and rubbing slow circles around my clit. I moaned, my head falling back as his fingers slid into me. He continued to tease, sliding in and out at a torturous pace.

I rocked my hips, craving more friction, but he pulled away, his touch barely ghosting over my skin. "Chan, please," I whimpered, my voice shaking.

Leaning in close, his lips brushed my ear. "What is it, baby?"

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "I need you in me."

He smirked as my hand reached for the zipper on his pants. "And I need to work," he replied, his tone firm.

My hand paused on the zipper, his heated gaze locking with mine. "You’ll have to be a bit more patient, my love," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

"I’ll be a good girl," I promised, my voice quivering.

"Mmm... we’ll see about that," he murmured, his tone skeptical yet intrigued.

I continued to unzip his pants slowly, revealing his throbbing erection. The sight of him made me shiver with anticipation. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking gently.

He hissed in pleasure, his hands tightening around my waist. "Fuck," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine.

I kept up the slow, deliberate strokes, savoring his reactions. His breathing grew labored, and he bit his lip, struggling to maintain control. "Such a needy girl," he whispered, his voice strained.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his ear. "I’m your needy slut," I murmured, my voice dripping with lust.

He groaned as his hands slid up my thighs, pulling my panties down. "God, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck.

He guided his cock to my entrance, rubbing the tip against me. My legs trembled as I slowly sank onto his length, feeling him stretch me open. "Oh fuck," I gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation.

He gripped my hips, pulling me down fully. I rocked my hips, grinding against him, and he groaned, his hands tightening on my waist.

I bit my lip, reveling in the fullness of him inside me. I rolled my hips, savoring the pleasure. His fingers dug into my skin, and the pressure on my clit sent waves of ecstasy through me.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice rough. "Stay still for me. Let me finish this work so I can take care of you properly."

I whimpered, my body aching for release, but I stayed still, feeling completely stretched, waiting for him to finish.

He began typing away, his gaze fixed intently on the screen. I tried to control my breathing, the heat building between us making me dizzy. The sensation of his length throbbing inside me was almost too much to bear.

I bit my lip, feeling every slight movement sending ripples of pleasure through me. He glanced at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Don’t do that," he warned, his voice low and husky.

I felt myself instinctively clench around him again. "I’m trying," I breathed, my voice strained.

The pressure of him inside me was becoming almost too much. I closed my eyes, resting my head against his chest and trying to relax. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against my cheek. The rhythm was comforting, and I slowly began to regain my composure.

I took a deep breath, my body still aching with desire, but I focused on the feeling of his body against mine, his warmth seeping into me. Chan continued to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

I concentrated on his touch, the heat of his skin against mine. The feeling of him inside me was soothing, and I gradually started to relax. Chan’s pace at the keyboard increased as he worked through whatever he was writing.

I closed my eyes, the steady clacking of keys lulling me into a sleepy haze. I felt myself drifting off, the warmth of his body enveloping me. I nestled closer, my arms wrapped around him, losing track of time in a dreamlike state.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt of pleasure as he shifted slightly. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open, immediately aware of his throbbing cock inside me. I tightened involuntarily from the sudden surge of pleasure and let out a soft moan.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep my reaction in check. Chan paused, glancing down at me with a smirk. "I thought you were asleep," he murmured.

"I was," I whispered, my voice trembling with a trace of sleepiness.

"I guess I’ll have to take care of you now," he replied, his voice tinged with sweetness.

Chan closed his laptop, scooping me up from under my thighs and carrying me. His hard length still inside me, standing now, I felt fuller with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He carried us to the bedroom, each step causing me to stifle whimpers on his shoulder. He laid me gently on the bed, hovering over me with his arms on either side of my head. I gazed up at him, my eyes wide with adoration.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you too, princess," he replied, his eyes softening.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. The kiss started soft but soon turned heated, our need for each other spilling over.

I moaned as he rocked his hips, grinding against me. His cock was still buried deep inside me, filling me completely. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more.

"You waited patiently for me?" he asked, pulling out completely, the tip lightly rubbing against my entrance.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling.

"Good girl," he murmured, slowly pushing back into me. I gasped as he filled me, the sensation almost too much to bear. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles turning white from the intensity.

He began thrusting in and out, picking up the pace. I cried out, my body arching as waves of pleasure washed over me. His hands explored every inch of my body, touching me in ways only he could. I shivered under his touch, his fingers finding all the spots that made me moan.

My eyes fluttered shut as I lost myself in the pleasure. The feeling of him inside me, the way he moved, was overwhelming. I felt like I was floating on a cloud, my body aching with need.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice strained. "You’re so tight. I thought I stretched you well, hm?"

"Y-you did," I whimpered, my voice breaking under the intensity.

"So what’s going on, huh? Are you that needy for my cock?"

Heat surged to my cheeks, making me feel vulnerable under his gaze. I tried to come up with a response, but all that escaped was a breathy moan.

"I-I don't know," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Oh, so you just wanted me to fill you up, hm?"

"Yes," I breathed, my mind hazy with pleasure.

He thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made me cry out. I gasped, clutching his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Is this what you needed, princess?"

"Yes," I moaned, arching my back, my nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Picking up the pace, he drove into me with relentless abandon. The room was filled with the symphony of our moans and the sound of our bodies meeting in passionate rhythm.

The pressure inside me built up, the pleasure so intense I could barely breathe. He held me close, his arms wrapped around me as he moved inside me. The heat between us was palpable, our bodies intertwined as we approached our climax.

I moaned his name, feeling the wave of pleasure crest. My body tensed, the sensations coursing through me, and I cried out, my nails digging deeper into his shoulders.

He growled, his grip tightening around me. His thrusts grew more frantic, each movement pushing him closer to his own release.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with desire.

I gasped, my body shuddering with aftershocks. The feeling of him inside me, the heat of his body against mine, was almost too overwhelming to endure.

He moaned deeply, his voice husky as he came inside me. His thrusts became more urgent, his body tensing as he rode out his climax. The sensation of him filling me completely sent me spiraling, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably.

Once we both caught our breath, he slowly withdrew, his face reflecting a hint of panic when he saw his cum dripping from me. He quickly looked around for something to clean up before it got on the bed.

Returning with a towel, he gently wiped me clean, the soft fabric sending shivers through my overstimulated body. He made sure every drop was taken care of, his touch tender and attentive.

"Baby, was that okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I’m perfect," I murmured, smiling up at him with a sense of contentment.

"Thank you for being patient," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

The sleepiness from our intense moment began to catch up with me, my eyelids growing heavy.

"Channie, I’m tired," I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

He smiled warmly, shaking his head fondly. "I bet you are," he said, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom.

"You always do this," I grumbled, a playful pout on my lips.

"Do what, princess?"

"Make me so sleepy after sex."

He chuckled softly, setting me down on the edge of the tub. "You wanted this, remember?"

"Yeah," I sighed, leaning against him as he started running my bath.

"Now, get in the bath and let me take care of you, hm?"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

taglist!

@stanskzot8 , @loverbangchan

[poguehearted77]

OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank - masterlist

Actor! Au Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey Your Character: Piper Monroe, a jack of all trades whose hustle was making a living as an arms dealer in Morocco. Until a group of foreigners find her with an appetite for revenge, and she decides to tag along.

These can be read in any order, the season summary is just to give you some background on the character and role you played in the final season. In this mini series you'll get to see what really goes on behind the scenes.

Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

Season Summary: This season, the Pogues are back, and their hunt for Chandler Groff leads them through the scorching sands of Morocco—and straight into your path, a mischievous arms dealer with secrets as deep as your scars. Due to your betrayal, the Pogues are ambushed and barely survive, saved only by your last-minute change of heart. Even after your redemption and display of loyalty, Rafe still doesn’t trust you, and in your uneasy alliance, he keeps you close, sometimes too close. Tension crackles between you, with moments where his knife is at your throat, yet something unspoken simmers beneath the surface. In the final episode, as danger closes in, confessions boil over when you and Rafe find yourselves held hostage by the leader of the mercenaries, Finch. During your time in bondage, you connect on feelings of solitude and regrets, but you see a spark in him when he mentions a girl back home, a reason to keep fighting. It's a race against time before Finch comes back to kill you. To both your frustration, critical thinking and strategic camaraderie are necessary for your escape. When you find yourselves stuck in a sticky situation amidst your escape, you make the ultimate sacrifice for Rafe, reminding him, “You have someone to live for,” before initiating a human diversion in a suicide mission, giving Rafe the chance to make it back to the Pogues, giving him a second chance.

Below the cut you’ll find my masterlist of life behind the scenes of season 5. Including premiere appearances, bloopers, red carpets, interviews and your budding romance with Drew.

Lights, Camera, Action! -> It's your first day on set and your nerves are through the roof but the cast makes you feel at home. You practice your lines, but the sparks between you and Drew are unscripted.

Between the Lines -> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along for a trip to take a lie detector test. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.

The Wrap Party-> Filming is over and that's a wrap for Outer Banks. Things get emotional but Drew knows how to cheer you up.-coming soon (January 2025!)

Limelight -> Due to your smaller role in the season compared to the main cast, you only had a few solo interviews but not without a few surprises. -coming soon

Wardrobe Malfunction-> You and Drew were scheduled to make it to the red carpet by 8 sharp, but not everything goes as planned.-coming soon

Ship Wars-> The fans are back at it again, and the shipping continues. Debating that Piper and Rafe should've had a romantic arc. You and Drew are given a special interview to address them.-coming soon

The Power Couple-> Drew finally made things official, so you began to have your fun with the fans and let them put the pieces together.-coming soon

The After Party-> The champagne is bubbly in your systems when you and Drew are stumbling into your hotel room after the party.-coming soon

I do not own or take credit for the characters or cast of outer banks. These are all pure fiction and do not accurately reflect the cast.

[jaebeomsbitch]

The Princess and Eggplant (E.M.)

Summary: Your boyfriend happens to be a foot taller than you...or Eddie is afraid to stick it all the way in, afraid to hurt you

Warnings: Minors DNI, size kink, pure smut

Pairings: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

A/N: watching Sex and the City and couldn’t stop thinking about the size difference between Carrie and Aidan. As a 5'1 they/them I'm drooling. Literally finished this a while ago but couldn't find a good gif, I'm gonna start making my own banners

Like Eddie holding you up, your thighs wrapped around his waist, his big hands on your ass. His tongue in your mouth as he kisses you more and more aggressively until you can’t breath and your head is spinning. The way he manhandles you, impaling his thick cock inside you as he grits his teeth trying to control himself from being too rough. But his cock only fits half way and you’re clinging onto his shoulders moaning like a ghost in a haunted house.

You heave for air as his cock knocks the wind out of you. He lays you out on the bed, your hair fanning out as he yanks you to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck sweetheart” he groans looking at the way his cock disappears inside of you. His neck straining as he holds himself back.

“More Eddie, fuck give me more” you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

“S-shit baby, don’t wanna hurt you” he grunts, slowly pulling out and back halfway in. As he refuses to go deeper, his eyes already rolling back as your tight velvet walls grip onto him.

“Please Eddie” you whine, pressing the heels of your feet into his ass forcing him deeper into you. Your jaw slacks as you’re stretched open by your boyfriend.

“S-shit s-so fucking big” you moan pressing your chest into his.

“F-fuck you’re gonna kill me” he groans voice higher pitched then normal. He hisses, teeth clenched tightly as he tries to remain still. However you don’t give him the chance, you dig your feet deeper into his pale ass. Pushing him inch by inch slowly into you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Eddie knows that he needs to be the one to slow down, but it's hard when you feel this good - especially when you're moaning like that. He hasn’t even moved and yet you’re already cock drunk. You’re drooling and moaning incoherently as Eddie’s cock fits like a puzzle piece inside you, nice and deep.your pussy struggles to accommodate the stretch. Your walls pulse around him almost like it’s trying to push Eddie out. 

His arms shake as he shallowly thrusts into you, little grunts leaving his lips. 

“Fuck Princess, so fucking tight” he whines. 

“S-shit it’s like you’re fucking choking my cock” he grunts out, looking at the slight bulge in your lower stomach every time he slides back in. The sight is enough to make him cum right then and there. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck ohhhh fuck” you moan underneath him trying to grind into him but his grip on your hips tightens. You know he’s gonna leave bruises on you but you fucking love it. Love that he’s practically whimpering “princess” under his breath like a broken record, like he needs to burn the feeling and imagine in his head. 

“More, Eddie please-” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him desperately trying to drag him back in. He shakes his head vehemently, his jaw tight as he grinds his teeth. No girl could ever take his full cock before and much less someone so petite. 

“So fucking perfect Princess. Your pussy’s taking me so fucking good. Fucking stretching out to fit my cock baby” he grunts out starting to lose his reserve. His hips move slightly faster as he feels the burn deep in his gut. 

“Made f’you Eds” you nod, eyebrows pinched together as he pulls the rubber band tighter. You flex your stomach trying to keep it together. Your moans getting louder as his his resolve starts to slack more and more. 

It isn’t long until he’s snapping his hips into yours looking like a man possessed. He’s fucking feral, hair wild, pupils blown out, neck flexed. His whole body is tense as he pounds into you fast and hard completely breaking you down. 

You’re more than cock drunk at this point. Babbling gibberish, writhing under him, pulling at the sheets, your eyes closed shut as you’re in your own little world taking Eddie’s thick cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ” Eddie moans at the sight of you. Most girls would’ve cried in pain, he always needed at least an hour of stretching and foreplay to get half way in and yet here you are taking it.

“M’gonna cum!” You cry, stomach flexing harder, your muscles tightening almost painfully. 

“Fuck- cum on my cock, Princess,” he pants, his balls slapping into your ass, hand pressing into your stomach feeling the bulge of his cock.

“Ohh fuck- fuck- fuckkk fuckkk” you all but scream as you let go. You tremble under Eddie’s body, face contorted, jaw slacked, drool dripping down your chin. It’s like you’re high and drunk at the same time. 

“That’s it Princess milk my fucking cock. Taking me so well, begging for my fucking cum” he grunts. His eyes rolling back as he clenched his jaw and comes hard. Thick white ropes paint your velvet walls already dripping down to your ass. Your pussy too small to accommodate both his cock and cum. 

“Shit” he heaves, slowly pulling out not trying to hurt you further. 

“I’m not gonna be able to walk am I?” You groan as he nuzzles into your neck. 

He chuckles,”probably not.”

“You’re the worst” you mumble lightly nipping his bottom lip. 

“Not what you were yelling two seconds ago” he murmurs against your lips. That’s dimpled grin on his face as he presses for a kiss and another and another.