#so go ahead and keep pulling this bullshit!!!!!!

[homeofthelonelywriter]

When Simon kissed you goodbye and watched you excitedly rush to your friend’s car, he already knew that at some point that evening, he’d get a call from a fairly drunk you. What he didn’t expect though, was for that call to come from inside the police station.

“Simon? Simon, can you hear-,” your drunken giggles interrupted you. “me?” Little did you know that when he heard the typical “This is a call from xy police station. Do you accept the call?”, he had already put on his shoes and collected his car keys, rushing out of the house and to his truck.

“I can hear you love.” Your still joyful demeanor reassured him, but he still worried. “Are you okay? What happened?” In the background, he could hear the voices of you girlfriends, who sounded just as smashed as you. Another one of your giggles sounded through the phone, as you lowered your voice, trying to whisper, but it was pretty obvious that you were still loud enough to be heard. “I think-,” this time it was a hiccup that interrupted you. “-I think I did something bad.” Usually, Simon’s mind would immediately go to worst-case scenario, but you still sounded happy, so he managed to stay calm. Instead of panicking, he started the car and put you on speaker, pulling out of the driveway to make his way to the police station.

“I’ll be there in five, pretty. Can you wait for me?” You sighed happily, and he could almost picture you leaning against the wall and twirling your hair. “Oh Si, I’d wait forever for you.” He chuckled, and signed off with a quick ‘I love you’, before hanging up. Three minutes later, he walked into the brightly lit building and up to the front desk, seeing a familiar cop. As soon as Matt saw Simon, he just chuckled.

“Assumed she was yours. Kept talking about her big, scary boyfriend.” Simon chuckled as he shook his mate's hand. “How bad is it?” Matt shrugged and grabbed some keys leading Simon to the cells. “Just some public disturbance.” Simon nodded. “Charges?” “Nah. Mainly picked them up to keep them from getting into real trouble.”

The moment you saw Simon walking toward you, you squealed and thrust your arms through the bars. “Siiiiiiimooooon!” The blonde could only roll his eyes with a smile as he watched you, impatiently waiting for Matt to open the door, before you rushed into your boyfriend’s arms. He pulled you in tightly, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. After a moment, you glanced up at him, a pout on your lips.

“What’s got you pouting, pretty?” You turned and glared at Matt. “He took my tequila.” Matt raised his hands with a grin, shrugging before waving you two to follow him. “Well, we got more tequila at home.” Again you squealed, overjoyed that your drunken evening wasn’t over just yet, but when Matt turned to look at Simon with a raised eyebrow, the blonde just mouthed back ‘water’. The cop nodded with a grin, handing you a form, which you quickly signed before he handed over your personal items and bid you a good night.

As soon as you left the building, you rushed out ahead, leading to Simon quickly catching up and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He stirred you to his truck and quickly buckled you in, before jumping in the driver’s seat and pulling away.

“So…what did you do?” He swatted at your hand as you tried to turn up the volume of the radio. You pouted again, before sitting up straight, raising your hand and grinning at him. “I plead the fifth!” Simon chuckled, glancing at you, before focusing back on the road. “You’re in Britain, love. There ain’t no fifth.” Immediately, you slouched back down, glaring at the road. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Before you knew it, Simon pulled into the driveway and helped you out of the car before gently leading you inside. You immediately tried to rush to the alcohol cabinet, but before you could, Simon pushed you to the bedroom. “But my tequilaaaa.” He pushed you until you sat down on the bed. “You change into your pjs and I’ll get you some tequila, okay?” You grinned and nodded, and Simon left the room, quickly filling a glass with water. On his way back, he picked up a bucket and some pain meds, planning to leave them on your nightstand.

But when he entered the bedroom again, he found you, half changed, and asleep. Still smiling, he sighed before putting everything down on your side of the bed. As gently as he could, he quickly changed you and wiped off your makeup, making sure you were as comfortable as possible, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep tight, love.”

A/N: Definitely did not write this while listening to "Plead the fifth" by Cooper Alan. I love that song.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 percy's girl : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy would let the world burn if that assured him y/n's happiness. Everyone knows it, except y/n herself.

warnings: jealous n overprotective percy, slight mentions of violence i really don't know if it counts, oblivious reader, no cabin mentioned for reader.

part 2 here

Everybody at camp halfblood knows by now not to mess with percy's girl— except, well, she isn't really percy's girl. At least not that she knew, but for everybody else? yes, she is his girl.

Hard to think about it in any other way when Percy walks around camp glaring at just anyone that even dares to look at her the wrong way. And when it comes to keeping her out of harm's way? He is practically a force of nature.

Percy doesn’t take y/n's happiness lightly, so anything that threatened that is handled by him without her even noticing.

She is probably the only person to come unharmed out of every Stoll prank, and it's definitely not for lack of trying. Connor and Travis like her enough not to pull anything dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they can let her get away without trying.

So everything was planned. A simple, classic, but effective bucket on the door. She only had to come out of her cabin for lunch and they would get her. Hiding in the bushes, Travis and Connor snicker once the door opens.

She is talking to Percy, that is walking behind her, but something makes him pause just when she steps exactly on the mark the Stolls had left. Percy clocks what is happening immediately, as if it was second nature, and he moves y/n out of the way just in time for the bucket to fall directly on him.

He ends up fully covered in chocolate syrup seconds later, but he couldn't care less. His only worry is— "you okay, sunshine?" he asks, wiping chocolate off his face.

She is, in fact, okay. But she's gaping at him, her eyes comically wide. "Oh my gods Percy, how did that happen?"

Oh he definitely knows how that happened, he can turn around right now and find the bush in which the Stoll brothers are hiding just by the sound of them snickering. He is going to kill them.

Still he shrugs. "I don't know, weird bucket placement." He replies casually. "Why don't you go ahead and wait for me in the pavillion? I'll take that bucket down."

"Weird things always seem to be happening around here, huh?" She raises her eyebrows, but happily obliged as she starts walking away.

Percy doesn't take the bucket down, he makes the Stoll brothers do it once he takes them out of their hiding. And the snickering doesn't last them much because as he's leaving, he glares at them. "You two better not try this bullshit with her again."

Listen, Connor and Travis are all about going against direct orders from everyone. But they don't try anything else after that, because Percy is scary when it comes to y/n and they are not about to end in the same position as that Ares son who had tried to flirt with her.

It had been after sword training, some Darren or Dane or something— Percy really did not care about his name, mostly because he was more occupied with glaring at him as he leaned a little bit too close to y/n.

He stood a few feet away from them, knowing that he couldn't intervene without y/n noticing but still fully preparing to do it just in case she got too uncomfortable. He knew her, she wouldn't say anything in fear of being rude. But Percy didn’t have that problem, he would gladly be rude if that meant keeping her safe.

So for now, he only stood with his back against a wall, pretending to sharpen riptide.

"You know, you should train with me sometime. I could teach you a few moves." He told her, smiling smuggly. Percy wished he could erase that smile right away.

And when she started hesitating, the son of Poseidon got ready to intervene. "um- I-" she stammered.

But Percy didn’t really have to do much, because as he was pushing himself off the wall, the Ares guy seemed to notice him, sharpening riptide and sending incredibly hard stares at his way.

Darren-Dane-whatever visibly gulped and took a step back. Percy smirked. Smart move.

As the boy excused himself and basically ran away, y/n blinked at him surprised before she turned to Percy. "Okay, that was weird."

Percy smiled innocently. "Right? so weird."

The next morning due to completely unrelated events, Darren-Dane-whatever ended up waking up in the lake, completely soaked without a single clue how he got there. Percy denied any relation to this weird incident.

Worst part about it all is that Percy swears people don't learn their lesson. While y/n is just walking around in her perfect sunny world, Percy is just following her, trying to maintain her world exactly as it is, free of assholes.

But gods dammit, those assholes don't make it easy for him.

When they're playing capture the flag, they end up on opposite teams and even though Percy is focused on getting that flag, he's also worried for her. He hasn't seen her around, but he knows she should be somewhere close because he has already seen some of her siblings running around.

It's only when he's close to the opposite team's flag that he finds her: she's supposed to be guarding the flag but she's crouched down near the lake, watching a butterfly that's perched on a flower, completely oblivious to the mayhem happening around her.

Percy stops abruptly, his heart racing at the sight. She looks completely at peace, lost in her own little world, the late afternoon sun tracing shadows on her face, it's like she belongs in a painting. So beautiful.

He's mesmerized for a second, flag completely forgotten. Then—

A blur of blue runs past him, pulling him out of trance. His mind barely registers one of his own teammates from cabin nine before the boy is already charging towards y/n at full speed, catching her completely off guard.

She rolls on the mud, almost falling into the lake and Percy is immediately running to her.

"Dude what are you doing? go take the flag!" His teammate yells at him, pinning y/n to the ground. Fuck the flag, Percy couldn't care less about it.

With almost too much strenght, he's pushing the boy out of her, sending him soaring through the air, an indignant yell before he lands with a splash right into the lake.

"Dude what the fuck? i'm on your team!" The Hephaestus boy yells as he clumsily stands on the lake, dripping wet and looking very displeased.

Without looking, Percy flicks his hand and a second later, a wave crashes into the boy's face. He doesn’t care about his protests, he's busy helping y/n up on her feet.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hands cupping her face to make sure there's absolutely not one scratch on it.

She lets out a small cough, wipping mud from her face. "Yes? it's capture the flag, Perce. This is part of it."

He knows she's right, that doesn’t stop him from scoffing. "Yeah, well, what he did was unnecesary." They both look at the boy once again trying to stand up only to be met with another wave crashing against him.

This time, she realizes this is Percy's doing and gasps. "Percy!"

"What?" he shrugs innocently, wiping some dirt from her nose without any care for the other camper. "He looked like he needed some refreshing."

He ends up being dragged away by her, not that he puts any kind of restraint anyways.

Yes, maybe everyone at camp knows about him being just a little overprotective of her, but so what? he loves her— can't help it if he wants her to be happy and safe. The only one that doesn’t realize this is y/n herself, she's completely oblivious of his actions.

And she remains oblivious through it all; when she's thirsty after training and he's waiting for her with a water bottle, when she's hungry and he has her favorite snack ready, when campers are talking badly about her archery skills and with only one Percy-designated glare they immediately shut up before she can hear them, when he deliberately walks by the side closer to the magical borders just in case something dangerous happens.

It's always there, he's always there. And all it takes is overhearing a conversation for her to realize it.

She's outside of the Aphrodite cabin, waiting for Piper to go have dinner at the pavillion when she overhears some of the girls walking by.

"I mean, come on, Percy is literally the hottest guy at camp, don't you think?" one of them says, and she feels this bubbling jealousy in her chest— something she has never experienced before.

"Agree, but it's a little annoying that y/n is always around him." the other one adds. "I mean she's sweet but he probably finds her annoying how much she clings to him."

Her heart drops, is that what they think? is that what Percy thinks? that she's just this annoying girl clinging to Percy for everything?

Before she can overthink it, the first girl talks again. "I don't think he finds her annoying, he's like totally in love with her, obsessed even."

A third girl sighs dreamily. "Right? he's always so careful and protective with her, Dean from cabin five told me Percy was glaring at him for flirting with her, and the next day he casually woke up on the lake. Listen, he would totally let someone burn if she said she wanted to roast marshmallows."

A chorus of giggles follows, their voices dissipating as they walk away without even noticing y/n was there all along, trying to process their words.

Suddenly everything clicks in her mind. Every time that Percy seemed to just be there. Always at the right moment. Always with a solution to every single problem.

She's not dumb, she has known Percy was protective. But she always thought it was him just trying to be a good friend, surely he was the same with Grover or Annabeth? but now she was sure it was never the same.

Because neither of them has Percy following them around, treating them like they're the most precious thing in the word. That's only reserved for her, and it has taken her this long to understand it, realization crashing over her like one of those waves Percy used to almost waterboard the boy that almost hurt her during capture the flag.

Piper finally steps out of her cabin, apologizing with y/n for taking too long. But she's not even listening, she's already made up her mind.

Without even stopping to take some time to think it through, she turns around and ignores Piper's questions as she sprints towards his cabin.

She arrives just when he's stepping out of the front door, and she's running so fast that she can't stop herself in time before she crashes into him. Thankfully, Percy's senses are better than hers so he catches her by the waist before they both end up on the floor.

"Woah there." he says, and even through his confusion he still finds it in him to be concerned. "Did something happen, sunshine?"

He barely has any time to finish his question before she's grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He makes a startled noise, completely caught off guard because honestly that was the last thing he was expecting to happen. A couple of long seconds pass with him completely frozen but then— oh, then he's kissing her back, his hands finding her waist like they've always belonged there.

He can taste the strawberry chapstick he has always seen her put on, but the kiss also tastes like stolen glances and endless afternoons spent together, like a love that's always been there, just waiting to get noticed.

When she finally pulls back, too soon on Percy's opinion, he blinks at her. "Not that i'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Her heart is stammering against her chest as she offers him a small smile. "Some girl said you were in love with me?"

"Took you long enough to realize." he replies simply before pulling her close again, his lips finding hers as if this was something he had been born to do.

And she can feel it, in the kiss, in the way he holds her— Percy Jackson loves her. And the best part? She loves him too.

[kateschi]

through the cold, with you

synopsis: amid the biting cold of patrol, katsuki finds his own way to keep you warm.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: was listening to a song and it went "i would burn my words to warm you up" and i want that kinda devotion tbh

the night air is sharp, biting at your skin as you walk through the quiet streets on patrol. the chill settles into your bones, making your fingers stiff and your nose go numb.

you pull your jacket tighter, but it feels like the cold is winning, no matter what you do.

beside you, katsuki strides ahead, his steps purposeful and his posture as commanding as ever. he doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.

you try to shake off the discomfort, but the cold is relentless, seeping through your clothes and making it harder to focus.

you force your steps to keep in line with his, but your movements are slower now. every breath feels like it could be your last.

he doesn’t even notice. or so you think.

another few minutes pass, and you feel your teeth start to chatter.

you glance over at katsuki, his fiery gaze locked straight ahead, his usual scowl firmly in place. h

e’s always been the type to push through anything—cold, pain, exhaustion—and now, it feels like the wind is just another enemy to him.

you, on the other hand, are starting to feel the weight of it all.

just as you’re about to speak up, to mention that you’re starting to freeze, katsuki stops walking without warning. his shoulders tense, and you can hear his breath cut through the air.

you blink in confusion as he turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your figure, taking in the subtle signs of discomfort you hadn’t voiced aloud.

“you good?” he asks, voice still rough but softer than usual. his eyes linger on you for a moment, like he’s waiting for you to admit something, to ask for help.

but he doesn’t push.

you hesitate. he’s been protective of you since you first got together, but there’s a difference between that and actually asking for help.

you try to brush it off, giving him a small smile. “yeah, just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

katsuki eyes you skeptically. “bullshit.”

you don’t have time to react before he steps toward you. before you even realize what’s happening, his hand is reaching for the collar of your coat.

his fingers brush against your skin as he unzips your jacket without a word, then pulls off the heavy scarf wrapped around his neck.

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, katsuki is already wrapping it around you, tightening it just enough to offer some protection against the cold.

you blink at him, confused. “katsuki, what—”

“shut up,” he mutters, cutting you off. he adjusts the scarf so it fits snugly around your neck, tucking the ends in carefully. “you’re freezing, and I’m not having you catch a cold.”

he steps back, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he assesses his work.

then, without another word, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos—when the hell did he put that in? “here,” he says gruffly, holding it out toward you.

you take it from him, still caught in the bewilderment of what just happened. the warm liquid inside is a welcome relief to your frozen fingers as you take a sip.

katsuki watches you for a moment, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. it’s like he’s silently making sure you’re okay, his watchful eyes never leaving you.

“better?” he asks, his tone a bit soft. there’s something protective in his voice, the kind of thing you never used to hear from him. you take another sip of the drink, nodding.

“yeah, much better. thanks.”

he huffs, his lips twitching in that small, familiar smirk that only you get to see. “you better be, or I’ll drag you back home and shove you under a heater myself.”

you laugh, the sound warmer than it’s been in the last hour. his eyes soften for a second, and for a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something affectionate in them before it’s gone.

it’s like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but there’s no mistaking the care he’s showing.

you glance up at him as the silence stretches, a little unsure of what to say next. but he’s already taking a step forward again, his body language a silent invitation for you to follow.

“come on,” he says, his voice commanding as ever. “let’s get this patrol over with.”

you start walking beside him again, feeling the warmth of the scarf wrap around your neck like a promise.

the cold is still there, but it’s manageable now. it’s bearable. and, somehow, his presence seems to push it away, too.

you can feel the heat from his side, the way his body radiates strength, and the knowledge that he’s always looking out for you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

as you walk beside him, you try to ignore the soft smile that’s tugging at the corners of your lips.

he might act like he doesn’t care much for these things—gestures of affection, quiet acts of love—but he shows it in his own way. and, in the end, that’s all that matters.

katsuki steps forward again, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest with surprising force.

“stop shivering, damn it,” he mutters, the rough edge in his voice doing nothing to hide the concern underneath. his body heat surrounds you as he keeps you pressed close, his hand firm against your back.

you stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the sudden proximity, but his warmth is undeniable. your body relaxes against his, letting the heat from him seep into you.

there’s something comforting in the way he holds you, like he’s willing to bear all the cold, so you don’t have to.

you tilt your head up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which is softer than usual. his face is still serious, but you can see the care in his eyes, the way he’s watching you closely.

for a second, the two of you just stand there, his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed against his.

“and—uh you’re welcome,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

his gaze softens, just slightly, before he turns back and starts walking again, already heading toward the next stretch of their patrol.

a grin makes its way up your face, and it makes your husband blush furiously and press a firm kiss on the top of your head. he is trying to hide—you know that much.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[florestalio]

JEALOUSY [L.HS] — drabble

warnings — (1.2k words) noncon/dubcon, step-cest, jealousy, shower sex, clit pinching, semi public (?) sex, brief mention of filming but no actual filming, brief cum eating, allusions to/brief oral (f!rec) let me know if i missed any!

it was wrong. it was terribly, terribly wrong. but heeseung couldn't stop himself. he couldn't stop himself before, how could he possibly have even a tiny semblance of self control now?

it wasn't even completely his fault. you were at fault too. why were you always wearing such skimpy clothes around him?

it didn't even stop there. you went ahead and had the audacity to go out on a date with one of the lame guys from your uni, coming back home to brag about it, to him of all people. of course you had it coming for you.

there was no way you didn't expect him to come and find you later, right? especially not when you were taking a bath, when both of your parents were home?

why were you even trying to scream? weren't you aware that he was going to slap his hand over your mouth immediately if you tried? that he would slam the bathroom door shut, locking it? so what if he took his hand off your mouth? didn't you know that your own bathroom was soundproof? were you that much of an oblivious baby?

why were you even trying to resist him? trying to stop him from turning you around, your hands on the glass partition, that was separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom? why were you trying to beg him to stop? did you seriously think he was going to listen to you?

“h-heeseung, please—don’t do this, please—i’m your sister, ple–”

“shut the fuck up. you're not my fucking sister, we are not fucking related. stop trying to deter me from claiming what is rightfully mine, because if you haven't already realised, i am not going to stop until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”

if that wasn't clear enough, then he had no idea what else would make you finally understand that you were his, and that he was doing nothing wrong. he was simply laying his claim on his property.

at least that's what he thought, as he ignored your cries to stop, and how this was apparently ‘morally inappropriate’ or whatever the fuck kind of bullshit you were spewing. he could barely hear you anyways, not over the running shower, and the sound of his zipper, as he pulled it down.

he barely even cared about any kind of foreplay—you lost that privilege the moment you went out with another guy—grabbing your ass tightly, pushing his throbbing cock into you. the loud cry from you fell on deaf ears, as he marveled at the way your pussy sucked him in like a glove. it was like it was made to take his cock, and just his alone.

pushing down on your back, he forced you to arch yourself further, pushing your ass up. gripping your ass cheeks tightly, he spread them, giving him a view of both of your holes. he pulled out almost completely, before pushing right back in, burying himself to the hilt. your breath caught in your throat, the muscle almost closing up. this—this was your brother—step-brother, yes, but brother nonetheless. this wasn't supposed to feel good. especially since he was taking you without consent. but… there was no denying that the way his cock throbbed inside you made flames of heat lick your lower stomach, your walls clamping around his length, squeezing him.

heeseung wasn't stupid. he could tell your initial resistance was melting away, and he wasn't going to make you change your mind. not anytime soon. not that you could change your mind, given how he was starting to pound into you, every moan you let out and every slurping noise from your cunt too loud, too real to ignore.

“hng—fuck, heeseung! s-slow down, fuck fuck fuck–!” it was hard for you to keep up with his almost animalistic pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, your sinful activities fogging up the glass partition.

he ignored you, of course. did you actually expect him to listen to you? it's not like you actually wanted him to listen to you. it was just the dumb part of your brain babbling utter nonsense. isn't that so?

at least that's what heeseung thought, as his hand sneaked down to your clit, pinching it, before rubbing it furiously. your moans gradually increased in volume sounding like pure sin to his ears. god, he wished he had recorded all of it, your moans embedded in his brain forever. but that's fine, this wasn't going to be the last time he fucks you. no, absolutely not. not after he finally got to experience the exquisite feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, clenching down on him so fucking hard.

lifting your hips slightly, heeseung angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot, driving into it with every thrust. as he battered that spongy spot in your walls with his cock, making sure you could see stars, he gave one last flick to your hardened bundle of nerves, making the spring in your stomach finally uncoil. you came—hard—all over his cock, pulsing around it, drenching his length in your juices.

heeseung kept pounding into you through your orgasm, groaning at the sight of the white ring forming at his base. he pinched your clit again, harder this time, drawing your orgasm. with a cry of pleasure bordering that of pain, you clamped down harder on his length, your legs shaking. the way your cunt squeezed him tightly was enough for him to bury himself to the hilt inside your pussy. with a groan, he flooded your inner walls with his cum, painting your insides white. warm ropes of cum kept bursting out of his tip, as he kept shallowly thrusting in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

after what felt like ages, he finally stopped cumming, pulling his softening cock out of you. your legs were shaking uncontrollably, the glass partition completely fogged up. but he didn't care. not when he had such a wonderfully sinful sight in front of him.

he grabbed your ass cheeks, spreading them slowly, watching his cum drip down your hole, onto the wet floor below, mixing with the water. this was his girl, dripping with his cum down her legs. the sight was enough for his flaccid cock to twitch back to life. but first, he needed to clean up his pretty girl.

which was why—to your absolute horror—he sank down to his knees, already licking a stripe up your slit, collecting the mixture of his and your cum on his tongue. he mixed it with his spit, rolling the mixture around in his mouth, before spitting right back on your hole. you flinched at the feeling, but barely had time to react in any other way, before his entire mouth was on your dripping pussy, sucking the cum out of you like his life depended on it.

well—who knew pretending to not be utterly bitchless would finally encourage your step brother to stop acting like he’s holier-than-thou, and make a move on you?

[pyrrhiccomedy]

A DM’s Fair Play Guide To Plot Twists

I love running a game with a lot of surprises. The challenge to pulling this off well is that, unless you’re playing a one on one game, your players outnumber you: and between them, they have a good chance of figuring out what’s going to happen, no matter how sneaky and clever you are.

The first way of dealing with this - which I’ll just call the bullshit way - is to not give your players the information they need to solve the mystery. Don’t let them find out about the secret society until it’s too late. Don’t give them any reason to suspect that their NPC ally is planning to kill them. Don’t let them find the murder weapon, don’t let them locate the witnesses, don’t give them the chance to skip to the end of their investigation.

This sucks, and if you run your games like this, you’re going to piss off your players. Because it isn’t fair.

In mystery literature, a “fair play mystery” is one where the reader is given all of the information they need in order to figure out the solution before the Big Reveal. It’s what makes the reveal good: that GASP, the “oh shit, the knife! the knife from the party! that was hers! I forgot!”

Pulling off a twist in a fair play game is an incredible feeling. Your players will think you’re a genius (or an absolute dick bastard, which is just as good) and they’ll respect it more when they land in hot water that they plausibly could have avoided. So how do you run a fair play game without your players figuring out the twists ahead of time, given that you’re definitely not smarter than all of your players put together?

By fucking with their expectations.

Here are some things that I keep in mind, to keep my players guessing. And it’s important, with all of this, that if your players see through something, let them have it. They should figure out a lot of things on their own! But if you’re regularly seeding your stories with all of this stuff, eventually your players will miss something. Those are somethings you can build on. The same way that a low level enemy who gets away once can keep coming back again and again until they become an important antagonist, a misapprehension your party proves to have a blindspot for can grow and develop until they get smacked with a breathtaking twist. 

What’s a twist if not the sudden overturning of an assumption you never thought to question?

1: Make your powerful friendly NPCs know a lot...but not as much as the players think they do.

Player characters often end up with powerful allies. It would be very convenient for the party if those allies always had accurate information. Make sure they don’t always enjoy that convenience.

It’s a balancing act: you want your powerful NPCs to be powerful. You want this alliance to be meaningful and beneficial to your players. But give your NPC an Achilles heel of some kind, when it comes to the information at their disposal. The Noble General commands powerful forces and knows the lay of the enemy’s land well...but that doesn’t mean he knows what every squadron and scouting party is up to. The Political Mastermind may know the ins and outs of the court, and have keen insight into the motivations of others: but he has an enemy who pisses him off so much that he loses all objectivity around her. The Powerful Wizard can call upon great magic to aid the party: but his divinations aren’t as accurate as he thinks they are, and he’s prone to finding, in his signs and omens, what he wants to see, more than what’s actually there.

Most of the time, their information should be good! That will make it more likely that your players will trust them the one time when it isn’t.

2. Let (apparently) less powerful NPCs sometimes know more than the players think they do. 

Most NPCs aren’t the Noble General or the Powerful Wizard. Most NPCs are Daves, designed to get the players from place to place. Most of those Daves know about as much as you’d expect them to. But some Daves have plans of their own.

You don’t always have to signpost with big blinking lights which of your NPCs are ‘important,’ and which ones are ‘unimportant.’ Sneak in a crafty Dave from time to time. That assistant they talk to, every time they go to see the prince? That bitch knows everything, and she’s almost ready to make her move. 

3: There is no such thing as a completely reliable witness. 

If the players only get information from one person, that information should be flawed in at least one, potentially small, but important way. Smart players will seek a second opinion, or at least allow for the possibility that their information may be incomplete. But even smart players get out over their skis sometimes.

4: Let your NPCs be aware of the power of a first impression. 

If an NPC gives a strong first impression of being a particular kind of person, it’s because they’re comfortable giving that impression. That might be because it’s who they are. But maybe not.

One of the first characters the PCs met in a VtM campaign I ran was Gawaine. Gawaine was a good old pine-scented man’s man, with salt and pepper stubble and a blue Ford truck. He listened to AC/DC, and talked about the war. He was affable and honest and willing to lend a hand. You already know Gawaine. Everybody knows a Gawaine. Gawaines are trustworthy, salt of the earth types. You don’t necessarily think to question a Gawaine.

That’s exactly why Gawaine was such a useful persona for Krystiyan, the Tzimisce Voivode, a cruel and alien sculptor of flesh who “never left his haven.” There were plenty of clues that they were the same person, but that campaign was in its endgame before the players put them all together.

5: Sometimes, dangerous and villainous NPCs should be helpful and cooperative. 

Not even necessarily because they’re manipulating the players, or even deceiving them about their true natures, but because their interests and the players’ interests genuinely align...for the moment. 

One of the easiest levers in your players’ brains to exploit is the expectation that people who help you are your friends. Even if your players know, consciously, that they shouldn’t trust this person, most of the time they kind of can’t help it, if the NPC is genuinely helpful to them and at least a little charismatic. 

6: Sometimes, good and valuable NPCs should be unhelpful and uncooperative. 

No matter how mature your players are, there’s a natural tendency to react to uncooperative NPCs with a reflexive, “Hey, fuck you! We’re the protagonists! This guy is an asshole!” so from time to time have a helpful, honest, good-aligned NPC have a wholly justified but as-yet-unknown-to-the-party reason to flatly refuse to deal with them.

7: Every NPC should have a secret. 

Not necessarily a bad secret. Were it to be revealed, it might even make the party like them more! But for their own reasons, the NPC does not want their secret to come out, and they will lie to the party to protect it. Players go crazy when they realize they’re being lied to, and often jump to some wild assumptions about your NPC’s motivations. I’ve had an NPC lie about the opening hours of a shop, and had the PCs assume that they were black market dealers for the villain when the dude just wanted to be able to close early so he could go smoke weed in the park.

8. As a DM, it’s polite to remind your players of the common knowledge their characters would possess...even when it doesn’t reflect the truth.

We all know it’s tedious when the DM calls for a roll when you’re just asking for common knowledge. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know the dumb space word for plastic in a Star Wars game. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know who the Holy Roman Emperor is in a game about medieval vampires. The DM should supply common knowledge for free, whenever it comes up.

That doesn’t mean common knowledge is true.

This is different from just lying to your players, because you don’t put the weight of DM word-of-God behind it. It’s not “You would know this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” It’s “it would be a common assumption that this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” He might not be a Ventrue. It might in fact be extremely important that he is not a Ventrue. But if it is commonly assumed that he’s a Ventrue, that is - word for word - something you can share with your players. If they don’t look any deeper than common knowledge, that’s on them.

9. Obviously untrustworthy NPCs provide great air coverage for less obviously untrustworthy NPCs.

The obviously untrustworthy NPC might or might not be planning to betray the party. But if you introduce two untrustworthy NPCs in the same storyline, and one of them seems normal and cool and has a genuine plot-related reason to be there, and the other one is Jaffar, Jaffar’s gonna get clocked, but Susan over there will probably slip under the radar, and might even get tapped to help out with the whole Jaffar situation. They might get Susan’s number, by the end of the session. Susan might become an ‘ally.’ Susan might even get romanced by a party member. Play your cards right, and Jaffar might just end up a footnote in the introduction of Susan, Scourge of Worlds and most hated NPC in the entire campaign.

10. Your villains should always have a secret plan B.

Your villain isn’t stupid, right? And your villain probably isn’t so arrogant that it is inconceivable to them that their plan might fail. They’ve been planning this ritual for ten thousand years, after all. It’s always possible that some plucky band of heroes could show up at the last minute and murder your high priest, or steal your amulet, or seduce your second in command. So what does your villain have in his back pocket to make the players go, “Oh, shit - he planned for this!”

This may mean that there is a whole separate plot happening, running alongside the main story. This is great, because when weird things happen, the players have to figure out whether this is part of Plot A or Plot B, and working out who did what and why gets a lot more interesting. If they end up foiling Plot A, great - your villain was also secretly behind Plot B the whole time, and will transfer all of his resources over to that. 

Sometimes your players will figure out that Plots A and B were both the same plot the whole time, with the same villain at the head, and they’ll feel like the smartest people on the planet, and it will be their favorite moment of the entire game. That’s great! You gave them that!

Sometimes, they won’t. And when the villain of Plot A, apparently defeated, starts laughing and reveals that he was also the mastermind behind Plot B, which is now too late to be stopped, that will probably be your favorite moment of the entire game.

[nosfferrratu]

endless. a sukuna drabble.

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭¿¡

potential warnings: mind-break/fuck, vague bullshit smut prompt w the smallest amount of plot, male reader, dom reader, ig can be read like a strap if ur really creative. if you really really squint, not edited cs idk, kinda confusing around some parts but i think pretty interesting, (allusion to) marathon sex, religious themes, and irreverence for christianity (making a mockery of it) only a little, also extremely ambiguous and up to reader’s imagination.

also, idk if its clear but you and sukuna, in this, have been going at it for like 12 hours before the events below.

if anybody likes this lmk cs why not.

this is literally just a sukuna dedication post and completely self insert.

✭

“h—hhah!”

the first sound you’d pulled from him.

he bit his forearm, pressing his sweat-laced skin further into his mouth with his free hand to surpress the whimpers growing within his throat.

he bowed his head into the edge of your desk, extending one arm to grip the sheets of loose bible pages ahead of him; the other still choking back his pleasure.

you blinked lazily, angling your hips to jab at the side of his insides, purposefully coming short with your strokes to avoid ramming into his prostate.

he, almost as desperate as he is murderous, pushed himself into your strokes; arching his back into the cold wood that rubbed a soothing coolness into the skin of his upperbody.

“fff—uhg!! nngh... oh, my god.”

the first sentence he’d pulled from you.

you were fully inside him. inside the king of curses. inside ryomen sukuna, and he was enjoying it.

you panted, overstimulation crawling up and across your back as shivers. his muscles both constrict and pull your dick from tip to base, igniting sparks of endless excitement crackling through your bloodstream.

you were so deep.

you knew that.

he knew that.

everyone knew that.

but, he was endless.

endlessly dragging you closer, endlessly caressing you through the erotic convergence of yourselves. you were endlessly connected to him at your base. he was endlessly warm. he was endlessly constricting. endlessly pulling. endlessly endless.

“oh, my god.”

the second sentence from you.

only three words.

the three words that separated you enough from him to keep your composuer.

“oh, god. oh, god. i c— i can’t…” you gulped, leaning forward to stabilize yourself on the sides of your desk, feeling the beads of your rosary roll forward on your neck.

you watched as the cross— a symbol of your devotion and unwavering faith to the divine— swung, teetering between the two of you. a preist and the king of deception and mischief. it teetered between the balance of power, swinging between the holy and the unholy. “god, help me.” your eyes were filled with images of hellfire and brimstone. you knew you weren’t going to win.

not today

or anyday, actually.

you heard a stiff chuckle beneath the cross.

“god?” his voice was low, but it echoed around your head, bouncing between and through the fold of your brain and subconscious mind. it was hoarse but so smooth it’d put the finest whiskey to shame. it was so, so fucking sexy. “you think god is here?”

his voice swam between tones— first sounding incredious but quickly sifting into a honey sweet, sickly arrogance. “god forsake you the moment you purified my chambers.”

laughter followed. deep, malevolent, and prideful; boisterously bouncing between the space you shared with the devil, and, no longer your lord.

you wanted to expel him. call upon god to cast him elsewhere while you purified yourself.

but, as he laughed, the bulb of your dick sunk furthermore into his… flesh.

he felt so good. so, so, so good.

how would you be saved from something you’d kill for?

you rolled your hips, head empty and light—numb with pleasure. “i’m gonna—”

“no you’re not.”

your eyes, though fuzzy and unfocused, drifted over sukuna’s form—watching as he gripped the edges of your desk and pushed his hips closed to your chest, arching his back— pushing his spine uncomfortably close to the ancient, wooden desk upholding the two of you.

endless.

he was endless.

your eyes rolled into your skull, entirely.

“oh god…”

“are you addressing me?” you couldn’t be sure, but you knew sukuna was smirking. you could hear it in his tone, in his movements, in his walls, in every inch of you that he forced further into himself, and in the orgasm he’d been building within you.

“c—christ compels you…”

he cackled, and once again you felt the vibrations stretch through and over your base. “you don’t though, do ya?” he shifted his hips, dragging your head, and entire dick through his … satin, velvet lined organs, tapping, and being pushed pleasurably into each side.

“mmng! s’kuna, please…” you were on the verge of insanity. your mind was so full of energy it couldnt focus. not on anything but the buzzing, exploding, shooting, starlight of pleasure running around your head in halos. “please let me—“

his hips cut you off.

“ffgk—ff—fuck!”

he began moving once again, slowly. it was a leisurely pace, each time he came up, your dick disconnected from him with a slight “pop” before being enclosed and hugged fully once more. over and, over, and over. it was creating a maelstorm of titillation in your mind.

everything was fuzzy. you couldn’t finish. you couldn’t oppose sukuna’s actions. you were bound. forced to be a sex toy until your curse was lifted, and you would finally be granted relief. you would be sanctioned, free to come inside of him, as deep as he could take it.

an endless orgasm.

but he had to come first.

“are you even trying anymore?” he tsked, humor lining his every motion, and expression. “i’m disappointed father.”

his thighs—plump, supple, and full of color—snapped to your base, quicker and harder than before.

then again, faster.

and again.

again.

faster.

and faster.

and faster, and faster, and faster—

your mind went blank.

you couldn’t see.

you could only feel a pressure.

two actually.

in your stomach, a deep pressure than made your head spin when you tried to focus on it.

the second was below. spanning the entire length of your dick.

it was constant.

warm.

deep.

stretching out in both directions.

going on forever.

endlessly.

you swallowed shallowly, blinking softly as light flooded the entire surface of your vision. long tendrils of shadows stretched and weaved through the light, moving in a constant up and down motion, extremely quickly, and smooth.

you blink rapidly, unable to feel your hands.

then it hit you.

all at once.

the overwhelming urge to scream— a burning in your muscles and static that paralyzed you to…

your desk.

under sukuna.

still bouncing on your dick.

he hadn’t even noticed you’d passed out. or he did and didn’t care. you were on your back, half limp on your desk and trapped between sukuna— on the tips of his toe, slamming himself down your center, and dragging your mind, life, pleasure, soul and devotion upwards, over and over again, never stopping.

never ending.

endlessly.

forever.

just like you asked.

[leonalovesalot]

Freaky on camera I

Brother’sBestFriend!ArtDonaldson x Camgirl!Reader

18+ MinorsDNI

wc: 2.5k

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Being a student athlete while maintaining a high enough GPA to keep a full-ride scholarship was no easy feat. Art had spread himself too thin and had barely gotten a taste of that college life he had been so excited for. Between practice, tournaments, exams, and assignments, Art sometimes didn't have time to eat dinner, let alone party. And the one time he did force himself to go to a frat party on a Friday night, he began yawning and felt his eyes getting heavy by ten pm. He called it quits, left without saying goodbye to his friends, and just came back to his dorm to pass out.

He was exhausted and was counting down the days until the summer. A few weeks off school was exactly what he needed. He just had to get through the final stretch of exams and he'd be done. He was already dreaming of driving back home and seeing his parents. Eating a home-cooked meal and sleeping in a room that wasn't the size of a shoebox. He'd hang out with and finally catch up with Patrick after months- just thinking about it was making him smile.

Art had a pretty simple routine. After class, he'd have practice, then he'd come back to his dorm, shower, and study until the words on the page started blurring and floating around. He'd then call it a night, and get in bed with his phone in one hand and a sock in the other. What? He needed a way to relieve stress and it's not like he'd gotten a girlfriend during his time at college. A girlfriend who'd be eager to suck him off whenever he needed. A girlfriend who'd be ready to please him anytime. No, he hadn't found anyone and so his hand would have to suffice.

Lately, though, the usual videos didn't do it for him. Watching two people go at it wasn't personal enough for him- it got him hard but he was still craving something else. He was embarrassed to admit, but he wanted to feel seen, noticed - he wanted interaction.

Tonight, like any other night, he was ready with his earbuds in and phone in his hand. He looked up the usual site he visited and typed in his usual search. He clicks on a video that looks appealing and starts to bring his hand down under his boxers waiting for the page to load. The page loads but he's met with a pop-up ad instead. In large, pink letters it read "Want company? The hottest girls are only a click away. No bullshit!" Art groans, annoyed, and is about to click the small 'x' on the corner but something makes him pause.

Isn't this what he wanted? Interaction? Not to be alone?

It looked like a cam-girl website which intrigued him. Why hadn't he ever tried this before? He knew it wasn't free, but he was curious. Maybe just for tonight he could check it out? See if there's anything worth his time (and money). He pulls his hand out of his boxers and sits up in his twin bed. He goes ahead and clicks on the ad which then directs him to a new page.

A bunch of thumbnails of women, some naked, with a big red 'LIVE' in the corner. Woah, this was the real deal. He scrolls down for a moment, familiarizing himself with the site until it asks him to sign up and subscribe 'for all your fantasies in one place'. There was a week-long free trial, and after a few minutes of heavy debating, he decided to sign up.

Username: _________

Art pauses and thinks for a few seconds. He couldn’t use his actual name but maybe he could rearrange the letters?

He types in slowly: GoldenSon

He makes up a quick password and mindlessly agrees to the terms and conditions. The account was ready.

He repeats to himself he was only doing this to feed his curiosity. He'd definitely cancel after the free trial ended.

When the paywall finally went away, he continued scrolling. The amount of people watching some of these videos was blowing his mind. One woman had 12.6k viewers. So, almost thirteen thousand people were watching one woman pleasure herself. Art thought it was kind of laughable but realized he was here to do the same. He scrolled down further and the numbers of viewers began to decrease.

Coming upon people with a few hundred viewers was a lot less intimidating. He thought that maybe this is what he was looking for. His eyes raked over the whole webpage before him and suddenly widened at the sight of a specific thumbnail. His eyes squinted and he zoomed in to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Art gasps, his breath catching in his throat. He turns his phone off, and hurls it toward the foot of the bed. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his face was burning up.

That couldn’t be right?

That… no.

No.

He sat on his bed with his face buried in his hands.

He thought he saw you. Patrick’s sister. On a fucking cam-girl site.

He shakes his head. No no. He was definitely mistaking you for someone else. No way.

He catches his breath and lifts his head from his hands. His eyes dart to his laptop on the desk across the room. There’s no harm in making sure right? He’d be doing this to keep his mind at peace.

He swallows and pushes the covers away. He knew his plans for the night were cancelled as he made his way over to his study corner.

Art sits down, opens his laptop and types in the website's name. He pauses to take a deep breath. Okay. Here we go.

He scrolls down slowly, eyeing every thumbnail.

He didn’t know what he wanted. If it really was you, what would he do with that information? Would he tell Patrick? Should he?

Even if it wasn’t you, he still finds the whole situation a little weird. Why was he picturing you, of all people, on this site? And at this time of the night?

Art had known you your whole life. At least that’s how it seemed. He didn’t know you that well because you were always just ‘Patrick’s sister’ to him. He could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d had with you, one-on-one. But he still, loosely, knew what you were up to and the type of person you were. A nice girl who kept to herself and had a tight-knit group of friends. Not much else to it.

He finally scrolls down far enough and comes across the videos with a few hundred views. He took a deep breath and carefully ran his eyes over each row.

His eyes stopped at one thumbnail. And he felt like his heart was going to follow suit.

It was you.

Holy fuck it was you.

It was larger on his laptop screen so he clearly recognized your face, your hair, your eyes, and your lips. He reads the alias you've created for yourself - 'YourRoxy'. He then hovers his cursor over the small box and debates clicking.

His curiosity was fist fighting his self-restraint.

Curiosity won.

Art closes his eyes tight and clicks on the thumbnail.

“Ooh! A new viewer. Hey, welcome.” Your voice sounded different than it usually did. You were putting on a persona, clearly. One with a low and sensual voice that spread goosebumps all over his body.

Art opens his eyes, and stares at you properly now. You took up his whole screen. His eyes began to look everywhere, but at you. It felt wrong.

The chat at the side of the screen was filled with men, and women it seemed, sharing their dirtiest thoughts and questions. There were currently a hundred and four people watching you. Some sent money along with their comments and those were the ones you were enthusiastically responding to.

Art takes in a shaky breath.

His eyes finally wander back to you. He’d never seen you in such little clothing. A skimpy, white tank top that barely covered your breasts. God, what were you doing? How was this real?

Your eyes narrowed at a comment and you read it to yourself under your breath, “are you single?”

Art’s ears perk up.

You giggle softly, “I am, yeah. I have yet to meet a man who can handle me.” You smirk at the camera and tilt your head.

Art hadn’t even blinked since he started watching you. You knew what you were doing. How did he not notice how fucking sexy you were when he’d come over before? He shakes his head. No, that’s wrong. Why would he think that way? That would jeopardize his friendship with Patrick.

“Yeah? You could handle me Dan96?” You smile sweetly, “I’d like to know how. Tell me.”

Oh my god. How could you say these things? And why couldn’t Art just turn away?

Dan96 had sent you $50 for that one question. You made fifty bucks in, literally, one second.

Art shakily brings his hand up to the keyboard and types in the question: how does this work?

He sends it in and notices that you hadn’t responded.

No, you were too busy flirting with Dan96.

You bite your lip and smile, “you’d choke me while fucking me? I like that. A little choking never hurt anyone”

Art’s eyes widened. He’d never heard you say such explicit things. What’s more shocking though was that he was starting to get hard. He groans- this was so wrong!

He swallows and decides to send in his question again, but this time attaching five bucks to it.

GoldenSon: how does this usually work?

He chews on his lip while he waits. You stop mid- sentence while talking to Dan96 and look at the new comment.

“How does this usually work?” You chuckle gently and Art feels himself grow slightly embarrassed.

“I’m guessing you’re new uhm.. GoldenSon. Aw, what a cute name.” Art covers his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was getting more aroused by the second. It really had been a while since he talked to a girl. A pretty one too. God, you were pretty. How had he not noticed?

“This can work however you’d like. I’m here to chat.. we can talk about your day. My day- anything really. Or if you’d like me to do something .. like take off my clothes,” Art’s breath hitched. “Mm you want me to touch myself? You want me to talk you through it? I’m here for anything. I’m here for you. All I want is to make you feel good.” You lick your lips.

Art was drooling onto his keyboard. There was a tent in his boxers now that was getting uncomfortable to ignore.

Fuck, he wanted to touch himself so bad. He wanted you to touch him.

Oh, god. This was a mistake.

He should’ve just gone to bed. Why did he click on the ad? Why did he make an account? Why did he scroll so far down? Why did you have to be so alluring? Why was he typing into the chat again?

Why was he asking you to help him get off?

GoldenSon: Talk me through it

Art trembled as he moved his hands over the keyboard.

He watches your expression morph into one full of intrigue.

"Alright, baby. Are you hard for me?" You tilt your head and lean a little closer to the camera, accentuating your tits.

Art gulps and brings his right hand down to his throbbing cock. There was a wet spot forming on his boxers already. This was going to be quick.

GoldenSon: So hard

You read his comment and smile immediately. Art mentally pats himself on the back like he was desperate for your approval.

The disturbing fact that you were his best friend's sister was still rattling around in his mind but was silenced by the overwhelming arousal he was feeling.

"I like the sound of that. I wanna get you off. I wish I was there with you, GoldenSon," You brought your hand up to rest your chin on. It was all strategic because your pinky finger was resting on your bottom lip which was then parted and your pinky was in between your teeth.

Art stared like a deer in headlights at your pretty lips, and your pretty mouth.

Did you mean it? He shivered. Did you mean what you said about wanting to be there with him? Have you ever thought of him in a sexual way? Or was he just Patrick's friend to you?

A moan interrupts his thoughts as he looks down and realizes he had his hand wrapped around his girthy cock and was moving it up and down.

He brings his free hand to type into the chat again.

GoldenSon: wish ypu wer here too

Normally he'd be annoyed about the typos but his focus was fully on his pleasure and your face.

"If I was there, I'd be ready for you- on my knees. Ready to make you feel good. You must be a hard working man. You deserve someone to make you feel good. Oh, I wanna taste you so bad." You let out a small whine and brought your hand to your breast and squeezed it.

Art's eyes widened and he couldn't believe the sight in front of him. This was like a million layers of fucked up.

You were Patrick's sister.

He was Patrick's friend. Best friend.

You had no idea that he was the one speaking to you like this.

You had no idea he was jerking off to your fucking tits when he'd barely spare you a glance on most days.

Art tightened his grip, applying more pressure, and continued the motion as he stared closely at your breasts.

GoldenSon: im cloxer

You smile at his typo, which probably indicated to you that he was more focused on something else.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. Oh, I wish I could taste it. I'd lick it all off you- every last drop. Clean you up with my tongue. You want that don't you?" You pulled your tank top down and one of your tits sprung out, which you cupped and played with.

Art watches in shock. He then shuts his eyes tight and feels himself reach his climax with the image of your tits on his mind. He feels hot release drip down his palms and he groans as he milks himself. He pants and catches his breath, still in a daze.

GoldenSon: Thank you, Roxy

"Of course, baby." You blow a kiss at the screen, "I'm here Tuesday's and Friday's after ten pm," You cover yourself up with your tank top again. "Will I see you again?" You were staring into the camera with your twinkling eyes.

You had him in a trance. Patrick's sister had him in a trance.

GoldenSon: Yes

[GoldenSon has gifted you $20]

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

If I told you I wrote half of this while in line at the bank would you believe me?

Thank you for reading, as always!!

[vevobly]

YJs with a blunt/no filter reader

Yellowjackets With Blunt Reader! [Peri-crash] (1)

A/N: I didn't really have many ideas on this, so I went ahead and asked for help from two people I'm close with — @nieveink & @salfishdelish! Thank you so much :))

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie is instantly rubbed the wrong way by your bluntness. She's used to being adored, so she thinks you're just rude and borderline insufferable at first. You say things that she's so used to people sugarcoating like calling her out for complaining, pointing out her privilege, or mocking her dramatics.

You told her “you don’t actually want to lead, you just want people to like you” to her once during a group argument, and then her face turned red. She just wants whatever is the best for the team! Besides that, who the fuck even are you to just go up and say those kinds of things to her? You don't know her that well.

But after a few weeks, she finds herself liking your honesty more than she’ll admit. You’re the only one she doesn’t walk on eggshells with these days. You’re also one of the only people who’ll call her out to her face, and not behind her back unlike some people. And before she knows it, she starts asking what you think about things just to hear your brutal honesty.

“Do you like me? Because I-I think you hate me, but I still... want to be around you.” She asks, rubbing her arm and avoiding your gaze.

Shauna Shipman:

You make Shauna uncomfortable at first. Not because you’re mean! But because you say the exact things she tries not to think about. One time where Jackie was being incredibly insufferable with her chores, you casually asked Shauna if she ever thought about punching her. And Shauna? She laughed for the first time in days since the whole crash happened.

Shauna doesn't exactly know why, but she feels like she can just be herself around you without any problems. She once confided something small and dark to you. And instead of comforting her? You just replied with “yeah, that makes sense. This place is making us all worse.” Since then, she found herself coming to you with things she can’t say to Jackie.

You guys become close, slowly but surely. One night, she sits too close to you. Gives you half her food for that day and lets her hand brush yours. “If you’re trying to seduce me with squirrel jerky, it’s working.” You teased her. Shauna didn't know what to respond to you, so she just blushed instead before laughing quietly to herself.

“I hope it is,” She replied. “I didn't just risk Jackie getting pissed off at me for nothing, you know?” She smiled softly at you.

Taissa Turner:

Tai doesn't have time for bullshit, and you don't either. So naturally, she respected your bluntness at first until you guys started to clash a lot after the crash. You say things exactly the way they are, and while she appreciated that very much before. It's become a thing that pisses her off. “You’re not god, Tai. You can’t fix this for all of us.” You told her once.

And Tai? She just breaks down and snaps at you. And the fact neither Travis or Nat were able to bring any food back at the cabin that day didn't help either. But instead of snapping back, you just told her that you knew she was scared and that next time you'd rather have her tell you than bottling it up then projecting it onto something else entirely.

It took 2 days before she was able to go up to you and apologize for it. It was only after that, you guys started to get closer. Then she started seeking you and your thoughts on since then. Tai trusts you more than she admits. And when things start getting worse? She finds herself looking for you in the group, every time.

She pulls you aside one day. “I can’t keep doing this. I like you, and it’s distracting.” And then she grabs the collar of your shirt to kiss you like there's no tomorrow.

Van Palmer:

Van likes that you’re blunt. It's refreshing in a good way. And she thinks you're hilarious even when you're trying not to be. That, and she can match your energy. You both rely on dark humor to cope with your situation. And during one night, you said something about eating one of the JV girls if it came to it. Van ended up choking on her stew.

She appreciates the fact you don't sugarcoat anything and say it the way it is. And honestly? You're probably one of the only people who makes her laugh genuinely. When Van started to sit beside you during fire circle nights just to hear your commentary on everything and anything? You guys became pretty close because of it. She finds out immediately that she doesn't just like you, she loves you when you mutter “I stink, I miss showers so much”

She jokes about it at first. “That’s it, I’m proposing. Someone who admits they stink is my dream girl.” She grins at you. But then, you and her are holding each other's gaze too much. Eventually, she pulls you in for a kiss. “Was that to shut me up or because you’re into me?” You asked after she pulled away from you and rested her forehead against yours. Van laughs hard. And you think to yourself about how beautiful it sounds. “Both. Definitely both.” She replied.

“So what if I like you? You wanna wrestle about it?” She couldn't stop smiling dopely at you.

Natalie Scatorccio:

While both of you are pretty similar. Nat is more rough around the edges than anything. You? You're sharp tongued and tactless, but honest at least. At first, she thought you were annoying. But over time? She realized you're the only one who talks to her like an actual person instead of a problem. And she notices how you don't flinch from her, even when she's being messy or mean. You hold her gaze and say shit like “You done throwing your little fit?” back instead.

Nat ends up soft around you, and lets her guard down. You call her out, sure, but you're also truthful in almost everything else with her. You say stuff like “You smoke like you’re trying to die out here before nature even gets the chance to kill you,” and she just stares at you with a small smile on her lips. Since then, Nat has come to sit next to you every time she needs to breathe. No words are needed, because the way she looks at you is enough to tell you about what she needs.

And during one particular night when everyone's fallen asleep? After a whole hour of throwing snarky back and forths at each other, you and Nat just fall silent. It's a bit awkward at first, but then suddenly Nat starts to talk about herself with you. “And here I was thinking you could never talk like that ever with anyone, especially me” You teased her, grinning a little. She laughs and punches your elbow playfully. “Whatever, no one's gonna believe you if you tell them.”

Then after another moment of silence. “If you say anything about this, I’ll kill you” She smiles softly at you. “But I think I like you. Or whatever...” She avoids your gaze.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie finds your bluntness weirdly comforting. She's not fully gone yet, but she IS having strange dreams. And somehow, your bluntness manages to ground her. You're skeptical about her visions, but you're never cruel. When she shares weird thoughts with you, you just listen and then respond with something like “Cool! I'm still not eating mushrooms you found behind a dead bird.” Instead of feeling offended, she finds herself laughing at your response.

She feels safer around you than anyone else on the team, and she doesn't know why. But maybe it's because you'll always tell her the truth, even if it's harsh. You once told her “You’re weird, but like… not in a bad way.” and her ears turned red before she shook her head, smiling softly at you. “Should I feel complimented or offended?” Then she's bringing you things—berries, matches, anything useful. Doing things for you without you asking.

You tend to ask about her visions from time to time. “Do you actually believe it, or do you just want it to mean something?” And sometimes when you ask, Lottie finds herself with no words to answer you. “You think I’m going nuts?” She asks once, half joking. You answer without hesitation. “No. But you definitely freak me out sometimes.” She smiles like that’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said and it makes you feel complicated. Should you feel bad for what you said or good?

“I think you’re meant to be in my life. Or… I-I'm meant to love you,” She rubs the back of her neck nervously. “I don’t know, I.. just feel it.”

Laura Lee:

You and Laura Lee are polar opposites. She prays before meals. And you? You complain about being constipated in front of everyone. At first, she finds you very inappropriate. I mean, you cuss too much. Say irreverent things and question everything, even god sometimes. She worries about your poor soul. “God hears everything,” She told you once. “Then he must be bored out of His mind.” Was your response to her.

She was scandalized! But despite it and herself, she ended up laughing at your words. She doesn't expect to like you, but she does. You're one of the very few people who doesn't treat her own religion like some sort of punchline. You just let her have it, even if you don't believe in it. She starts asking for your help with chores. “Not because I need it,” She told you. “but because I like when you’re around.”

Laura Lee falls for you, slowly and gently. And it scares her. She doesn't think it's love at first, maybe just admiration. But when she finds out it's EXACTLY that? Cue her being helpless with herself! You guys dance around each other quite a lot in the beginning. You're too blunt to flirt with her, and she's way too unsure of herself to even say anything to you. But when she starts blushing a lot around you? You take notice of that. And one day, she finally tells you.

“I… feel something. For you,” She says quietly. “A-And I don’t know if I should. But it doesn't seem like it's bad.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty is a desperate girl who craves for validation. And while your bluntness doesn't give her the warm fuzzies, it does make her feel seen. You just acknowledged her skills without mockery once, and she latched onto it immediately. You catch her staring at you often. And while you do confront her about it from time to time, she just always denies it really badly. “Stop staring at me, I feel like I'm being watched by an owl now.” Misty apologizes quickly for it.

She doesn't know how to flirt like a normal person, so she just keeps doing things for you—fixing your boots, bringing you food, patching you up even when you don't ask. And then you start catching her following you around more often. She's always telling you she's just checking up on you whenever you ask her about it, but you're not dumb. “Are you following me?” You eventually asked her. “W-what? No! I'm not following you.” You raise an eyebrow at her, unconvinced.

One night, she decided to bring you a bundle of wildflowers. You just stared at her for a few minutes before speaking up. “You’re not dying, are you?” You asked. “What? No,” She shook her head, before looking away. “I just… thought of you.” You're not sure what to do with that. But you don't throw the flowers away. And while she isn't expecting anything in return, you decided to carve a pocket sized wooden owl for it. She loved it so much that she takes it everywhere with her.

“You know, most people lie to me” She stared at the small wooden owl in her hands. “But you don’t,” She looked up at you. “And maybe... that’s why I love you.” She smiled softly, cheeks tinting red a bit at her own words.

[4milly]

mws - jey uso.

parings: jey uso x black!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, arguing, use of n word, car sex, unprotected sex, my man, my girl, but not my man or my girl trope, praise kink, talking you through it lawd,

the message made you roll your eyes so hard you thought they might've got stuck.

“this man really called me a crybaby,” you muttered under your breath, already feeling your annoyance bubbling up.

from the day he set foot into your life, all he did was keep up with the dramatics. being extra and shit about any ole thing. this time? he was irritated about you still following your ex on instagram. fed up with the conversation, you blocked him. he could send novels to your messages by himself.

mind you, it was jey who decided not to be official yet. he was a busy man, and you respected that. being on the road damn near everyday out the year was taxing; trying to be in a relationship wouldn't work. but he couldn't let go of you.

you sighed so deep you swore your soul left your body for a hot minute. this man really had the audacity to pull up unannounced, acting like you were the problem. you peeped out the window and sure enough, there was his black range rover parked across the street, engine still running.

"lord give me strength," you mumbled, huffing and flopping on the couch. slipping on your hot pink ugg slides and grabbing your keys. just as you were about to close your eyes and pretend you ain't see shit, jey layed on his horn.

you weren't about to let the neighbors get a show, so you stepped outside, locking the door behind you. you knew how exaggerated jey could be; if he didn't get his way, no doubt he'd blow his horn all night to get your attention. and at this time of night? you'd be out by morning.

the passenger seat of jey's car flung open before you could hit the side walk. you quickly got in, slamming the door behind you, "how many times did your mama drop you as a fucking baby? are you crazy? blowing your horn and shit? what if someone called the po—"

"mane, ion give one fuck 'bout that shit. you got me fucked up." he seethed throwing his hands in the air.

you rolled your eyes again, matching his frustration,"I got you fucked up? Nah, you got me fucked up. you really pulled up to my place at 2am over what? some likes?"

jey's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white, "so you fuckin' him again? thats whatchu' on now, mama? fuck outta here 'bout some likes and shit. how you think i feel? seein' another motherfucka all under yo pictures leaving heart eyes?"

your head snapped backwards in disbelief, "that's rich coming from you! how many bitches under your pictures, jey? where's my phone at? let me go count em'."

"i aint responding back with no fuckin' hearts and shit tho! thats the shit im talkin' bout!"

the tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. jey's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but you could see the storm brewing behind them. you knew this man well enough to know his blood was boiling.

your jaw dropped, heat rising to your cheeks. "excuse me? y'know what? you wanna talk about crybaby shit? how about you mad as fuck right now going through my page to find something? you're throwing a whole ass tantrum over a follow!"

"and you blocked me right? but, you can't block that motherfucka tho? thats some bullshit and you know it!" jey spat, his jaw clenched. honestly? he didn't even know what he was more mad it. you blocking him, still following your ex, liking each other's post, or you coming out the house in those little ass shorts.

was he terrible for being upset at all 4?

it irked something inside of him. you weren't his girl...yet. but still, it's a respect issue. he knew he was yours, and unless you forgot, you knew you were his. there wasn't room for anybody else no matter what you thought.

"oh, so now you wanna act brand new? like you ain't been doing the same shit?" you snapped, pulling out your phone. "let's see…tiffany, amber, and how many other people—all up in your comments 'lord he could get it.' 'till the room stinks.' 'till the earth-fuckin'-quakes.' but I'm the problem?"

jey snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it in the backseat. "don't flip this stupid shit on me. so thats what this is? yo crybaby ass wanted to get back at me, so you followed his ass again? all up in his business for what? ian texting you back fast enough or sum?"

you were fuming, everything about him grating on your nerves. you were so over it, over him acting like you were the one causing problems when he was just as messy.

part of jey knew he was being petty, but it didn’t stop the heat rising in his veins. he hated seeing you follow your ex, hated the way you acted like he was the only one with a damn problem.

"i ain't competing with nobody, especially not for a man who can't even claim me. you think you deserve me why?"

"you want me to claim you? ight. c'mere." jey growled before crashing his lips into yours.

your protest was muffled against jey's lips as he kissed you fiercely, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other gripping the front. his tongue demanded entry. the kiss was everything the argument was. rough and fiery.

"get inna back," he growled, breaking the kiss to undo his belt buckle, "you ain't hear me? now."

you hesitated for a moment, torn between desire and indecisiveness. part of you wanted to get out the car and leave him here, but the smoldering look in his eyes made the decision for you. you scrambled over the center console, your shorts riding up as you climbed into the backseat.

jey followed, his muscular frame towering over you. "been turnt wit' my ass all fuckin' morning. yo crybaby ass. you wanted this shit too. and you better take it all, none of that runnin' shit."

his large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties in one swift motion.

he tossed your shorts in the front, before shoving your panties into your mouth, "pretty ass. just wanted to get yo pussy ate didn't you, mama."

he slid down your body, kissing his way across your chest to your stomach until he rested between your thighs.

his large hands gripped your plush thighs, pulling you towards his mouth. he instantly sucked your throbbing bud into his mouth. you let out a muffled gasp before arching your back upwards.

"you taste so fuckin' good, mama. love tastin' her ass. wish you stop talkin' so damn much," he groaned out into the air.

his tongue worked magic, flicking and swirling around your most sensitive spots. you squirmed against the leather seats, muffled moans escaping around the fabric in your mouth.

the noises you made as his tongue swirled your swollen clit, locking your fingers into his thick hair, wanting to grind against his hot tongue but he was a step ahead—pinning you down with his arms.

jey alternated between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue, building you higher and higher. just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside of you.

he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped relentlessly. the dual sensation was overwhelming, and within moments you were trembling on the edge of release.

his wet muscle sliding into your awaiting hole, fucking you with it was enough to send you over. you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

your body thrashed around the seats to escape from his mouth, "let me goooo," you let out a muffle whine, barely even comprehensive.

you pushed at his arms around your waist. jey had an end goal; he wasn't going to let you leave that damn car till his point was proven. you were his.

his girl.

that instagram following shit? it was over tonight. and he was gonna make the clear anyway he could...or had to.

he licked your pussy clean as more juices erupted from your pussy, giving him something to drink on. you were going crazy. you couldn't thrashing away from him, unable to remain still as pleasure hit your body in waves. your lower half worked against the strokes of his fingers; riding them into oblivion. your juices continuously flowing down into his mouth like a waterfall.

but with his dick getting hard? watching you attempt to push him away with tears in your eyes? no-one was leaving this car anytime soon.

you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, "lil’ angry ass...get it all out, baby," he pressed his tongue flat against your pussy causing your body to shutter and gush into his mouth.

"c'mere. crybaby ass just needed some dick, so move it. lemme see how much you want it," he laid against the seat, pulling your arms to move you on-top of him.

his strong hands gripped your hips, positioning you over his thick length. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dick twitching against your inner thigh. jey's eyes locked with yours, intense and hungry, "take whatchu' need from me, baby."

you reached between you, taking his girth into your small hand. you positioned him at your entrance and slowly eased down onto him. a small whimper left your throat as he pushed his dick into your warm heat in a swift movement.

"ride me, mama. show me how much you want this dick," he encouraged before locking his arms around your waist. the burn of his dick stretching your walls long gone by now.

no-one was stupid. had any of your neighbors looked out the window, they knew exactly what was going on. the car rocking up and down, from him slamming your hips onto him, and the fog clouding the windows. you could draw your name on it.

"faster, baby." he demanded, bucking his hips up to meet yours. tears pooled at your eyes even though you obliged, picking up the pace. the car filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin. jey's hands slid down to grip your ass, helping you bounce on him.

your thighs burned as you rode him harder, desperate for release. jey's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movements. the car rocked with each thrust, the windows completely fogged over now. his dick kissing your cervix with each thrust. your wetness drenched his dick, making him slide in and out so easy.

your pussy started to twitch, as his dick massaged your walls, continuously bouncing in his lap, making his dick kiss your cervix, and making note to squeeze when you reached his tip.

suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in place. "my turn," he growled before locking his arms around your lower back stilling your movements.

tears began to stain your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. with your bodies pressed together, jey began to ride you from the bottom. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your pussy fluttered around him. a smirk plastered across his face, he felt your pussy clenching around him. he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"so damn pretty on top of me. you mines, right?," he cooed, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. he reached up to pull your panties from your mouth. you through your head back, letting out a loud cry to the roof of the car, "you mines, ain't you? say it."

you could barely form words, lost in the sensation of him riding you from the bottom. "i-i'm yours," you managed to gasp out between thrusts.

the sight of jey's dick coated in a white sheer layer made his head spin, "say that shit louder, baby. let everyone know who fuckin' you right now."

"i'm yours!" you moaned out. a smirk plastered over his face before pulling you to him by the back of your neck into a searing kiss, "i'm yours, too."

he was losing himself under you, his strokes were becoming erratic. the sensation sending the coil in your belly overboard. you creamed all over his thickness, clamping down on him. the move triggering his own release.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. you both swallowed each other's moans. the moment was...new. you had an unanswered question in the air.

but either way? you both knew you only had eachother.

ᰔ:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! leave me a comment also. i love reading those. xoxo, cleo🩷.

[very-merry-birthday]

Let go

Summary: After a bad hunt, Dean's angry. You help him to relax, and show him how to lose all control.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: "She said take your time, what's the rush? I said baby, I'm a dog, I'm a mutt."

~~~

Dean slammed the door to the impala, you and Sam trailing behind him, broken and bruised. You looked over at Dean as he walked off ahead of you both, the side of his face sporting a purple shiner, a slight limp in his step. You started to follow him before Sam gave you a stern look, a warning to give him some space, and you backed off, letting Dean walk past you into your motel room without so much as a glance.

You heeded his advice for the rest of the day, letting the elder Winchester blow off steam alone while you and Sam sat around in his room, watching awful motel TV. You both tended to your own injuries, before finally breaking and helping one another, Sam bandaging up a particularly bad cut on your back, and you putting two stitches on a wound on his thigh. As he winced in pain, biting down on an old shirt, you thought of the state Dean, who had taken the brunt of the damage, and was now alone, dealing with it himself.

"He'll be alright, you know him." Sam said once you'd finished, watching your expression carefully, he knew what you were thinking.

"I just wish he didn't lock himself away like this."

"He always has- Hey, he knows he can talk to us, to you, he just needs a few hours to remember."

When the evening began encroaching, you gave Sam a warm hug before making your way back to your own room, aware that a tense night has only just started. As you pushed the door open you waited a second to take him in as he laid on the bed, eyes shut, headphones on, deep in thought.

"Baby, you okay?" You spoke out into the room, Dean not hearing you with the headphones on. You walked in, lightly brushing his foot with your hand to get his attention.

His eyes shot open as he sat up straighter, body on high alert. As he realized it was you he allowed himself to relax again, only slightly, pulling the headphones off and giving you a halfhearted smile, "Y' startled me, darlin'."

"Sorry," you held your hands up in mock innocence, "you doing okay?"

He gave you another half smile in response.

"Dean, you know that's not enough, you gotta talk to me."

"I'm okay, I'm fine, just a few bruises, nothing a decent night's sleep won't fix."

You looked at the growing swelling next to his eye and shook your head, "I thought we agreed we were being honest with each other, and-"

"I am being honest!"

"-and right now you're hiding yourself from me, Winchester."

He stood up, wincing slightly in pain from his aching body, "Jesus can you stop this therapy bullshit for one night!?"

A pang of hurt hit you, you knew he didn't mean it, but it didn't make it any kinder, "That's not fair, and you know it."

His face filled with guilt, but he was still angry.

"I'm trying, Dean, every day I try. I give you space, I let you sit in all this pain and anger, and I do it because every now and then you're actually vulnerable with me, but I can't keep trying if you're not going to be honest with me."

He began to raise his voice again, "I'm a fucking soldier, don't you get that? And a fucking good one! And I can only do that if I put my emotions to one side and-"

"You're not a fucking soldier, Dean!" You let your tone match his, "You're allowed to show you're hurting sometimes! Sam needed you today, I needed you, and you shut down again the second we were out of there!"

He finally looked at you properly, looked at how bruised you were, remembering the gash he'd seen on your back. He felt guilt flood him again, speaking more gently, "Sweetheart I'm sorry I-"

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest."

He took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at you with big wet eyes, "Kept thinking about you, about what I'd do if you got hurt, properly hurt. Or what you'd do if I got hurt."

He paused as he watched for your reaction, his eyes flickering over your face. "You know me, I'd shack up with Sam, we've been hoping you'd be out of the picture soon."

He let out a laugh at your joke, grateful that you'd relieved the tension in the room. "I'm sorry- I'm not used to this, to a relationship, to someone caring about me like this."

"I just want you to know we're here, that we actually want to talk to you, Winchester. We want to hear what you have to say."

"I know baby, I know." He leant forward, pulling you closer to him, his head resting against your chest, breathing you in gently.

"Take off your shirt."

"As much as I'd love to fuck you senseless right now, sweetheart, I'm not sure-"

You rolled your eyes at his comment, "-just take it off you jerk."

He carefully pulled it off, blinking heavily as he adjusted to the pain in his muscles. You took a moment to take him in, his body half bruised, his face ragged with exhaustion.

"You done anything to try and help that situation? Ice pack? Cold water?"

"I'm alright sweetheart I just-"

You shook your head at his martyrdom, kissing his forehead, "Stop talking, relax."

He did as you said. He was used to taking orders, but never from you, and you weren't used to giving them. Dean was in control of everything he could be, and when it came to sex you enjoyed that, but you knew that's not what he needed tonight.

You sat up behind him on the bed, your hands tentatively reaching out to his body, gently gliding over his skin. You began to massage his aching muscles, letting your fingers kneed his tense body. He hummed into the feeling, leaning his head back with his eyes shut.

You leant down to kiss the back of his shoulders, a small trail until you were nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He leant against you, enjoying the feeling of your closeness. He reached up a hand to the back of your head, wanting to touch you, and you pushed him away.

"Baby, I'm okay, let me touch you." He murmured lightly, reaching up his hand again.

You stopped him, kissing up his neck, "Just let go, for one night Winchester, let go." You whispered, lightly kissing at his lobe.

The words sent shivers through him as he pulled his hand away. You kissed his neck heavier, letting your hands stroke over his strong shoulders.

You climbed back off the bed, standing in front of him and lifting his chin with an outstretched finger as he looked up at you with wide eyes. You could tell how desperate he was for you, how hungry he was for your body. Normally he'd grab you, pin you down on the bed, his hands finding every inch of you. After a good hunt he'd love to taste you, to have his head buried between your legs for hours, edging you until you couldn't remember your own name. But right now, as he looked up at you, the pain and anger shedding off his face, you just wanted him to release.

You kneeled in front of him as his eyes followed your movements. You traced a finger up his inner leg, from his calf up to his thigh, the feeling tickling his skin even through his jeans. You reached up to his belt buckle and he smiled down a lopsided smile, enjoying watching you knelt below him. Slowly pulling out his cock, you met his eye, biting your bottom lip with a smile.

He exhaled, his face solid, as you began to gently stroke his length. You stuck your tongue out, licking a light strip along his tip. He groaned, his hand coming up to the back of your head, ready to push you down lower.

You pulled back, looking up at his desperate expression, "Hands behind your back, Winchester, I want to take my time."

He exhaled again, placing his hands behind him on the bed and leaning back. You took his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as he groaned in pleasure. You started to push your head lower, taking him in your mouth, sucking on his shaft. He rolled his head back, tensing his jaw to hold back a moan.

You pulled your head back, looking up at him until his attention was back on you, "Not good enough, I thought I said I wanted to hear you, no hiding anything tonight."

A playful smile spread across his face as he realized your game. Taking him into your mouth again, you lowered your head, taking him deeper until he was filling you. Then you began sucking again, swallowing down his precum, your tongue pressed against his length. He allowed himself to moan, his breath becoming ragged.

You pulled back momentarily, your voice no louder than a whisper, the words sending vibrations through his core, "Use your words baby, tell me what you're thinking."

He tensed his jaw as he watched you begin to bob your head on his cock, taking him so well. "Uh- right now I'm thinking- that this feels fucking amazing."

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head slightly.

"... And I'm thinking- fuck- I'm thinking your mouth is so fucking good at this-"

You pulled back, licking at his tip, "Good, Winchester, keep going."

He groaned again, "And I'm thinking I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep going like that."

You sped up your movements, treating his cock like a lollipop as your tongue lapped him up, he groaned loudly as you looked back up at him, "In a bit baby, just enjoy what's happening right now, we're not in a rush."

His hand reached up to you again and you pushed him away, looking up at him with stern eyes.

"I'm serious baby," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm so fucking close."

You slowed your movements again, taking your mouth off of him as you hand went back to gently stroking him. "Slow down, baby, slow down."

He tensed his jaw again, collapsing back onto the bed, a sigh escaping his lips. You kissed along his inner thigh, tugging at his jeans and underwear to pull them off. He reluctantly shuffled to allow them to fall down his legs, kicking them off from his ankles, and you went back to kissing his leg.

He shut his eyes, overcome with the feeling of your lips on him, his vulnerability, the cold air hitting his body. And then he felt you moving, climbing into a straddle around his waist. He opened his eyes to look up at you, naked and gorgeous in the dim light. He shuffled his body again, with you sat atop him, so he was in the middle of the bed.

He watched you carefully, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as your own hands flowed down your body, grabbing your tits, giving him a show. He leant out to touch you and you lightly slapped his hand away, "No touching, baby."

You stretched out, one hand on your breast, the other making it's way down your body, his eyes trained on you. You pushed it between your legs, gliding over your clit, letting out a loud moan. He let out another groan, hungry for you.

You smiled down at him, moving your hands away and back onto his chest. Then you lifted yourself up slowly, until his tip was just resting at your entrance, and looked down at him again, "You want me?"

He nodded.

"Communication, Winchester, tell me."

"I want you."

"Good." You cooed, your hand stroking lightly over his chest.

"Please?" This wasn't a word Dean had ever used in bed, he was used to getting exactly what he wanted, but it sounded so smooth falling from his lips.

You lowered yourself down onto his length and he rolled his head back, a groan falling out his mouth, his jaw hanging open as he tried to even out his breathing. You slowly started grinding against him, his cock easily filling you up, your walls tight around him.

After moments he looked up at you again, his hand once again trying to reach out to touch you. You gently pushed him away, a warm smile spread across your face, "Behind your head, Winchester, both of them."

He did as you said, putting both his hands up behind him, his face overcome with need. You sped up your movements, only slightly, one hand on his chest to balance yourself, the other reaching back up to your breast, grabbing it the way you had stopped him only moments before.

"Please baby- I wanna touch you." He groaned.

"Not tonight baby, let me make you feel good."

You quickened your pace once again, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, his body beginning to tense. As you grinded you felt his body stimulating your clit, letting out a moan at your own enjoyment. You could feel he was close, his breath becoming laboured, his abdomen beginning to tighten.

"Look at me baby." You whispered, and he did what you said, his eyes gliding over your body, looking between your bouncing tits and his cock buried inside you.

"I'm so close baby-"

"I know, just relax." Your tone was gentle, but firm.

"Please- want you to cum at the same time-"

"Tonight's all about you, just let yourself feel good."

He bit his lip as he looked up at you, his face desperate, his moans needy. He looked back down at your body, at his cock pushing into you, at the way you moved above him, and let himself release.

Rolling his head back and letting out a loud moan, you felt as he came, his body tensing, his mind going clear. You kept grinding against him, wanting to make his pleasure last as long as you could.

As his breathing began to settle you slowed down you movements, until he was looking back up at you again, a meek smile spread across his face. You lifted yourself off of him, sitting back on his stomach, his hands reaching out to your hips as you finally let him touch you. You sat for a moment, taking each other in, his thumb lightly rubbing against your skin, comforting.

"Baby lay down, let me touch you."

"Not tonight, Winchester. Right now we've got to get you some sleep."

He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing you were right but still wanting to feel you. You rolled off of him, laying down next to him, your head on his chest, his heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He kissed your forehead lightly, looking down at you to take your face in as you met his eye. He smiled, "I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

[unknownsvoid]

MAKE A PART TWO FOR THAT GIRL IS POSION RIGHT NOW OTHERWISE ILL EAT YOU ALIVE BRUH

um... wow! okay! *i glance to the crowd in fear*

THAT GIRL IS POISON!!!

♬⋆.˚ | now playing: posion - Bell Biv DeVoe

✮⋆˙ | sypnosis: after fucking toby, you decide to find out what other creeps live in the mansion and this one unsettling dude with a bad temper made you decide you'll settle on him next.

✮⋆˙ | featuring: jeff the killer/jeffery woods,

✮⋆˙ | cw: smut content. succubus reader. reader has red skin, wings, a tail, horns and powers and wears a skirt. dom!reader and sub!jeff at the start but quickly turns into sub!reader and dom!jeff. somnophilia content. mentions of blood, scratching, spanking, breeding, aphrodisiacs aka drugging, loads of degrading and barely and praise (i mean c'mon it's fucking jeff), etc. reader gets called whore, slut, etc, reader has saliva that contains aphrodisiacs jeff has anger issues and is straight up an asshole also cusses like a sailor (again, it's jeff)!

✮⋆˙ | author's note: put my blood, sweat and tears into this shitty post. also the tip is deffo #f6abcd

word count: 2.2k part one? -> here ya go!

Jeff, hm? You're next victim. How pleasant.

Just like you did with Toby, you hung around. The usual stalking your victim bullshit. And fuck, Jeff was not a "pretty" sight. Well, to basic beauty standards anyway. To you? As much as you hate to admit it, he was attractive, but like, in a creepy way? He was more fucked up than Toby too - and also ridiculously pent-up. Oh and not to mention the notorious Glasgow smile. No one would be able to miss that. It clearly wasn't appropriately treated; dried up blood, nasty scars, teared up skin from where it was obviously been stretched out too far and ripped again, etc. Made you wonder if that ever gets sore? Stupid question, really. Probably hurts like a bitch.

He's a lot irritable than your usual prey and would be a lot harder to maintain if he ends up waking up. Let's hope he doesn't like just how Toby did. He'll such a pain in the ass to deal with, especially when you're just tryna have your fun and then dip. But hey, you're up for a challenge. When are you never? Now you're here. In his room while he sleeps just like all the other people you've fucked, watching as they sleep. Boy, oh boy, he's a loud snorer. Not to your surprise anyway, you've had worse, and, plus, you figured he would be. Loudmouth = Loud Snorer. You did not want to waste any time, so you went ahead. You walked over to the sleeping Jeff on the bed and sat next to him, your eyes tracing over the way he slept. He slept in a dishevelled manner, with drool from his mouth, probably from the help of the gash, hair scattered across his pillows, snoring loudly, like mentioned earlier. Bet his friends hated him at sleepovers.

Bored and letting curiosity get the better of you. You press your lips against his. Not the best, but not the worst. You've definitely had worse.

His lips were clearly lacking lip products. They were dry and cracked but over all, semi-arousing. You slip your tongue into his mouth, hoping the aphrodisiac and antidepressants lingering in your spit will keep him knocked out. You beg yourself it would. You wouldn't want to put up with him if he wakes up.

Your eyes open, and you gaze down at him. Taking notice of the bulge growing in his jeans. Oh, you just realised the fucker was wearing the clothes he killed people in? Is this idiot seriously that lazy? God. You roll your eyes and pull your lips away from his, licking the remaining spit from it. Your hand runs down his chest to his jeans which you push down to see his cock. Already hard, guessing from the aphrodisiac. He was a lot more longer than Toby, one of your biggest victims, out-scaling Toby by length; his cock was around eight and half inches... by inference, though, he doesn't out-scale Toby by girth. He's leaner.

You shake your head to rid of your thoughts. Today isn't about Toby. It's about this obnoxious bastard. Your hands wrap around his base, bringing your hand up and down. Once you hear that little whimper slip out of his mouth, that's when you pick up the speed. More and more beads pre-cum oozing from his fuchsia-tinted tip, trickling all over your hand. The uncircumcised skin from his cock hiding the tip of his cock then going back to showing it with each drift of your hand.

His aura was getting more recognisable - stronger. The scent invaded your nose, causing a sigh to leave your lips. Hey, maybe gaining energy from this brain-dead fuck would be a lot easier than you thought? You sped up the motion your hand was going at, wanting his orgasm, needing it. With each pump of his hand, his thighs twitched, or he would jolt slightly in his sleep. How cute. You knew he was close, but you didn't know he was that close. You grinned down as thick, white strips of cum fall from his cock all over your hand. You were about to pull away when you felt a cold hand wrap around your hand. Then a gravelly voice following along with it, "What the fuck?"

Well, shit?! He woke up even quicker than Toby did? Who the fuck are these guys? And honestly, how the fuck do they end up waking so goddamn fast.

You paused and look back up at his face with a coy smile, which he had nothing to offer for but a scowl. He spoke up again, "Who the fuck are you? No... what the fuck are you?" "A succubus?" "A succ-you... what, what?"

"A sex demon..."

Jeff looks you up and down before a cocky smirk forms on his lips, "You know if you wanted to fuck me so bad you could've jus' asked instead of breaking into my room in this shitty cosplay?"

Cocky fucking bastard.

You rolled your eyes at his words. How crude and that's a lot coming from a literal demon who fucks people in their sleep. "You gonna continue or what?"

"What?" You look at him, snapping out of your thoughts. "If ya' haven't noticed, I'm hard again." He releases your hand and goes for your hip instead, "So why don't you finish what you fucking started?"

You snicker. What an asshole, before you could even utter out an reply to insult his cockiness. He's already got you flipped over, so now you're laid flat on the bed with your behind high up in the air. You groan from the impact and are about to speak, but again, he rudely cuts you off by yanking on your tail, so your back is now arched.

Ow?! "Ay, here I thought this was just some stupid costume. Now that I'm touching this tail of yours... this shit feels prettyyyy real."

"Of course it's fucking real?! Why would I like to you, dickhead?!" You bark back at him, only to pathetically whimper when his hand comes in contact with your ass. Basically swallowing your own words. "Oh? you're one of them bitches? Ones that likes getting spanked. Fucking filthy." "Shut the fuck- eeep!"

Jeff yanks you by your hair, causing your head to snap back and look up into his eyes, which were filled with lust and a tint of anger? "Should fucking kill you. Ya know that? Interrupting my sleep just because you need dick, hm? Desperate bitch. You're so fucking lucky you're sexy, you know that?"

His nails were digging into your scalp, and the grip on your hair was loosening up anytime soon. You try to squirm away, only for him to suddenly let go, making you fall forward onto the bed. You couldn't even do anything before his hands were on your hips, making you arch your back. He pushes your skirt up to unveil what's under it. He chuckles once he sees your flimsy thong, drenched in your arousal. Some of it even going as far as to drip all over your thighs. "C'mon. Wet already? All from a couple of spanks and fucking insults? What a whore."

You couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You didn't even realise how wet you are, but now you can feel it. How sticky your thighs are. Jeff pulls your thong to the side. Your pretty red folds coming to show, glistening in the moonlight that was peeking from out the window. He pushes your folds apart, your twitching hole practically begging for him. He uses his other hand to use his thumb to sluggishly rub at your clit. His actions receive a wordless compliment when you let out a little trilling moan and the wetness that oozes out of your pink hole.

He forces the liquid back into your hole with his index finger, curling it enough so it pushes against your gummy walls. Another moan rolled out those pretty lips of yours, then another when he pushed his finger in and out of you, and then another when he added a second finger, scissoring your hole wider before fucking his fingers into it again. He keeps this up until he feels your pussy tighten up around his finger. He pulls out, causing a needy whine from you. Another boastful smile comes from him, "S'alright. I'll fill ya up in noooo time... with somethin' better. Promise." That's when you feel it, the blush tip from earlier spreading apart your inner walls, inching and inching deeper inside the wet channel. The bed creaks as he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you. You fall apart and bury your face into the pillow. He's big, too fucking big for your liking and he's going too fast for you to think. Each embarrassing squelch of your pussy as he forces his dick inside, "Shittttt. You're tight- fuck- really fucking tight..."

His hold on your hips is becoming deadly, bound to leave nasty bruises later. Your arms jitter helplessly to find another to grip on anything, literally anything! "C'mon... why is ya' pussy-ngh- fighting back so much?! You would think that the cunt would let me in from how wet she is?! Let me in, pretty, let me fucking in..."

Is he seriously talking to your pussy right now?!

He pushes your head down into the pillow and makes your back arch back some more, locking your legs in with his so he can get more leverage. His cock was splitting you open at this point. You couldn't even think straight!? He sneers when his cock was finally fucking into you a little faster, "There we goooo. Nasty girl, hm? Sucking me right innnn... fuuuuuck!"

The brand new fast pace wasn't fast enough for him, apparently. Not when he was a few inches away from his head hitting that perfect cervix of yours. A sudden slam on his hips, causing the breathe to knock right out of your lungs; a slutty, drawn-out moan leaves your lips. "God, what a pretty noise... need more of that shit. Scream for me, slut. Let everyone hear you- ah- in this shitty mansion."

The fucker doesn't even give you time to adjust before he's drumming his hips back and forth, bullying his cock in out of you with lewd squelches and his and your moans flowing in the room, like a corrupted melody. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Greedy fuckin pussy jus' taking me in... every- Slam! fucking-"Slam! time."

You felt so dizzy with pleasure. You didn't even notice the tears seeping out of your eyes and that were wetting your cheeks. You only noticed when he commented on them after hearing you sniffle, "Damn, bitch? Ya' fucking cryin'? Dick that- nghhhhh- good?"

The only thing you could reply with was another squeal as his hand, once again, spanks your ass. "Shit... dunno why your cryin'? You implied this. You wanted this. Nasty, filthy bitch needy for some dick that she had to get it from a guy who was sleeping."

You wail at his words. How crude!

His dick was pulsating, throbbing even inside of you. You feel every single vein probing against your walls. Each throb of his cock causing his tip to push against your g-spot, causing your hips to roll back against him. Fuck, you were close.

He runs his hand over your stomach all the way down to your viscous pussylips, spreading them apart so his middle finger can massage your clit. He coos in your ear, his voice laced with lust, "Gonna cum. Might jus' cum in this immoral pussy. Would ya' like that? Me cumming deeeeep in this pussy? Fill you up?"

You nod uncontrollably, and he leans back up to slam harder into you, if that was even possible! No, how is this possible?! What the fuck is his stamina? You thought only incubuses could keep this up, but clearly not?

Each pound of his hips causes your ass to jiggle from the impact. His nails were digging into the fatty flesh of your hips, the pain shooting straight down to your pussy. You couldn't make out what he was saying right now? Hell, you could barely see through your tears. "Shhhiiiit, baby, gonna ya' cervix a niiiicccce kiss with my tip. A nice, creamy kiss. And she is gonna drink it up, ain't she? Like the greedy cunt she is."

He was pounding into you a like mad man driven by lust. which he is but... whatever!

Pound after pound. Pound after so sickeningly good pound.

The vibrations thud down your humid walls and shoot hot pleasure right up your spine, before you feel the thick white goodness fill up your womb. The power you so desperately wanted from the start of this, shooting through body, causing the orgasm to follow with him, oscillating pussy sucking the cum out of his pink tip.

He pulls out your hole, watching the cum discharge out of pussy, "Yeeeah, fuck, slut. Pussy really is drinking my jizz up, hm? Thirsty thing, isn't she?"

You whimper, not really in your mind to speak right now, especially not after the harsh fucking you just received. "Well thanks for the fuck, sweet cheeks. But Ima heading to bed now. Get the fuck out." Wow.

[menagerofmischief]

Can I please have cold stuffed cherry tomatoes, sausage rolls, tomato soup and kebab with boba, rose and mocha coffee served by Lando Norris? And a little dessert too 💕 my favorite track is Zandvoort

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" tomato soup "Running away from my dick? I don't think so" kebab "Look at that, my cock is splitting you in half" boba anal rose spanking mocha coffee degradation dessert aftercare + matcha toys

Lando Norris x sugar baby!girlfriend!reader

TW: unprotected sex, cumming inside, PiA, anal, fingering, toys , size kink

WC: 2.1k

A/N: sugar daddy lando implied but not specified. also anal is like my biggest opp so I hope this doesn't suck

I stared at the track ahead of me from the comfortable space of McLaren’s hospitality. Everyone was quiet from the moment the last lap started, waiting for the result. I twisted the Cartier love bracelet Lando bought me a few weeks ago, insisting I needed to match with him, as I watched the race.

But my thoughts were somewhere else. All I could think about while watching Lando approaching the finish, heading for a win, was a conversation the two of us had last week at Lando’s (mine as well, I suppose) Monaco apartment.

✿ ✿ ✿

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Lando said, breaking the comfortable silence we had fallen into right after sex, both of us too tired to move.

“Oh, have you?” I asked, sucking in a sharp breath when I felt his fingers run through my folds, collecting some of his cum that spilled from me. “Lando,” I said, my voice breathless as his fingers slipped and moved down to my ass, rubbing around my other hole.

He hummed, his fingers, lubed with his own cum still tracing circles around my anal opening. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you here.” He said, his voice deep and dripping with desire. “Taking you fully. Your ass is the only part of you I haven’t fucked yet, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying my best to keep myself composed. “I’ve never done that before.”

He growled, placing a kiss on the side of my neck. “That makes it all the sweeter, baby. That I could be the first to have you like that.”

I looked at him, we were laying on our sides, facing each other. His eyes were dark, intensely focused on me. I was quiet for a moment, thinking about his proposition.

Lando waited, patiently. But his hand never moved away.

Finally, I swallowed, opening my mouth to speak. “I’ll make you deal,” I said, my voice cracking. “You win the race next week, and I’ll let you fuck my ass.”

Lando smirked, moving his fingers away from my hole, and grabbing my ass. “Deal,” he said, the tone of his voice letting me know he was already planning the whole thing out in his head.

✿ ✿ ✿

The whole garage erupted in cheers when Lando crossed the finish line. Everyone was up on their feet and screaming in happiness as the signs displayed Lando as the winner. Bringing him another 25 points and further confirming McLaren’s position in the constructors championship.

I was still lost inside of my own head as I made my way outside just in time to see Lando getting out of his car. He took off his helmet and balaclava, shaking his head to move his hair that was stuck to his forehead.

He turned towards the crowd and his eyes met mine. A smile stretched over his lips as he ran up to me and hugged me over the fence. His hands wrapped around me possessively, his lips brushing my ear. “I hope you’re ready for tonight,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “Because I’m excited for my reward.”

He pulled away, lips drawn in a smirk and eyes gleaming. Lando leaned down, giving me a hard kiss before moving along to shake hands with the rest of his team and then going to do interviews.

✿ ✿ ✿

Lando was impatient. I knew that from the moment he found me after the interview and dragged me back to the car, throwing some bullshit line about how he was too tired to go clubbing and would rather have a nice evening in, to his friends.

His hand stayed on my thigh the whole time he was driving us back to the hotel, making me squirm in my seat,  and once we made it to the elevator his lips were on me as soon as the door closed. 

“Lan,” I said, trying to catch my breath as the elevator finally came to our floor. “Come on, this is our floor.”

Lando dragged me out the moment that the elevator doors opened, his grip tight around my wrist. He swiped the card and pushed me inside of the door, slamming the door shut.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I wainted for this.” He said, pressing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss as he groped my breasts. “Been hard ever since I got out of the fucking car.”

His fingers moved to unzip my dress, fingers fumbling with the zipper before he roughly tugged at it and the sound of material ripping filled the room.

“Lando!” I said, as he pushed what was no longer a wearable dress down my body and onto the floor. “The dress -”

He cut me off by roughly spanking my ass, the sound of it echoing through the room. “I bought it, I can rip it.” He growled, his hands squeezing my ass. He pushed my panties off, his fingers dipping between my ass cheeks and then he froze and I knew he felt it.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting mine, the expression on his face unreadable. “What’s this baby?” He asked, his fingers brushing the edge of the butt plug I was wearing.

I giggled, placing my hands on his chest, my fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s say,” I started, pushing his shirt off his body and running my hands over his naked chest. “I was confident you were going to win today.”

Lando groaned, leaning towards me enough for his lips to brush mine but not actually kissing me. “I’m going to destroy you,” he said, his voice rough and leaving no room for argument.

Before I could even begin to think of my reply Lando pushed me towards the bed. He pulled off his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, before sitting down on the bed. I looked at him, confused but the confusion was quickly gone when he pulled me over his lap.

“Lan, what are you doing?” I asked, not entirely used to this position. Sure, he had spanked me over his knee before but I was totally unprepared this time. He brought one of his hands down roughly, smacking one of my ass cheeks, making me yelp.

“That’s for making me wait.” He said, then hit my other cheek with enough force to make me jolt slightly forward. “And that’s for being a naughty girl and wearing a butt plug under your dress this whole time without telling me.”

He spread my ass cheeks and for a second he was silent before he spat between them, causing me to gasp at the feeling. “Look at you,” he said, his fingers running along my ass, collecting some of his spit. “Such a dirty little whore - and all for me.”

His fingers wrapped around the top of the plug, before he pulled it out of me, making me whine at the loss of fullness. I heard squirting of liquid and barely managed to turn around enough to see Lando putting lube on his fingers.

With no warning he pushed two of his fingers inside of my ass, replacing the plug. He started thrusting them into me slowly, dragging out each movement. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and take my cock?” He asked, slightly speeding up the movement of his fingers.

I nodded, my hair falling over my eyes and blocking my vision. “Yes!” I whined, feeling my clit rub against his leg when he flexed his thigh, making me even more desperate. “Please Lando, need your cock! Need you to fuck my ass.”

That seemed to be enough for him. Wasting no time, Lando pulled me up and manhandled me onto the beg, pushing me onto my hands and knees. He stood behind me, gently rubbing one of his hands along my back while he squirted lube onto his dick with the other.

Once he lubed himself up, he moved the hand on my back so it was holding my waist, and then started slowly pushing himself inside of me.

The head of his cock slipped in and I found myself moaning out into the pillow below me. “Hurts!” I whined, because while I had stretched my ass a bit to prepare for this particular thing I had forgotten exactly how big Lando was. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, the dominant facade cracking. I knew that if I wanted to stop he would, no questions asked, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

I shook my head, “No, don’t stop.”

He chuckled, slightly gripping my waist. “Then what’s the problem, baby?”

“Too big!”

“Too big?” He laughed, his tone mocking. “Oh, don’t worry sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He waited a moment before pushing himself inside an inch more. I moaned at the feeling of him stretching my ass but the moan was quickly replaced by a scream as he roughly thrust the rest of his length into me.

Lando’s hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head up from the pillow I had buried it into. “See, I told you it would fit. I’ll always fit in you, you’re my whore afterall. Made to take my dick perfectly.”

He started out with an experimental thrust and when I moaned he began slowly speeding up. “Fuck, look at that,” Lando groaned. “My cock is splitting you in half.”

His thrusts became rougher and faster, his slapping against mine with each thrusts, his balls hitting against my clit. The stimulation was increasing and I hadn’t even realized I was trying to push myself towards the headboard until Lando’s arm wrapped around my stomach and he pulled me backwards, impaling me on his dick.

“Running away from my dick baby?” He questioned, his voice holding a mocking edge. “I don’t think so.”

I felt like my body was burning from all the stimulation I was experiencing and when Lando’s hand sneaked around my body and his finger started rubbing my clit my arms turned into jelly. No longer having the strength to support my upper body, I let myself fall deeper into the mattress, my face buried in the pillow.

“Lando, so good!” I whined, the sound of my voice muffled by the pillow. “Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Lando’s fingers started rubbing circled on my clit faster, his hips speeding up as well, his thrusts becoming feral and desperate as he brought me closer to my orgasm while also chasing his own.

I knew Lando was close when I felt him twist inside of me. One of his hands grasped my hair, lifting my head up. “Cum for me, baby!” He said with a slight growl.

That was all it took to tip me over the edge and I was cumming, tightening around nothing as Lando filled my ass up with his cum.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot!” Lando said, pulling his softening dick out of me with a wet pop once he slipped all the way outside. “Think we can do it again sometimes?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally allowing my body to collapse onto the bed. “We should definitely do it again sometimes.”

I heard shuffling and felt Lando getting off the bed. He slipped inside the bathroom, leaving the door open and then I heard the sound of water running.

He came back, offering me his hands and I grabbed them, allowing him to pull me up into a sitting position, slightly wincing at the ghost of pain. “I don’t think I can quiet walk yet, Lan.”

“That’s okay, baby.” He offered me a gentle smile before picking me up. Lando carried me to the bathroom and then gently put me down into the bathtub.

I moved a bit forward, making space for him to get in behind me which he did, and then leaned back, pressing my back against his chest. I hummed at the warm water, running my hands through the bubbles.

“You even made bubbles,” I said, my voice hoarse from how loud I had been. 

Lando laughed, his hands gently caressing my skin as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss onto my cheek. “Of course I did. How could I forget how important the bubbles are for my girl? I love you, baby.”

I smiled, melting back into him, “I love you too, Lan.”

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[hotheadedhero]

Daft Pretty Boys

AN: I was going to try and get something Halloween-like out but it's been busy lately. Have some fluffy angst with Raph, instead :D

Raphael x Reader

Warning: kinda angsty, soft-hearted Raph ahead :)

When you blessed the turtles with your bright presence and inevitably befriended them, Raphael didn’t realise just how much of an emotional rollercoaster it would be. As a person, you are amazing. You always make a point to engage with him and his brothers, even for the small things. Other than April, they’ve never felt more welcomed by human company before. The thing is, if he were to put one fault on you, it’s your taste in men. 

You fall fast and hard, and it’s not because of their looks. It’s the ones who have this idea that they know they look good: the confidence they exude, sharp-witted flattery on the end of a hook that you can’t help biting into. You get caught, pulled in, they have their fun, and then you’re chucked back into sea awaiting the next juicy-looking cast of bait. One would think you’d be smart enough to not fall for the same routine tricks over and over again but here we are.

Each time you say, “He’s really sweet,” followed by a “This one is different,” but he never is. You’re always taking that chance, betting on the next guy being Mr Right, only for it to end in heartbreak, and every time Raph’s at your aid when you come crying to him. That isn’t said with any malice for you. He will always be there to pick up the pieces. Maybe broken pieces of these stupid shmucks if he just had five minutes alone with them.

You grasp so desperately to hope. Raph would commend you for your optimistic persistence if it didn’t break him to see you in tears. There’s only so much one heart can take. He doesn’t want you to become some calloused husk of your sweet self, too afraid to take another chance. He doesn’t want you to end up like him. Raphael knows he’s unloveable. Regardless of his appearance, he has a temper - one that he keeps as far away from you as he possibly can. His feelings for you never seem to pass despite how much he tries but he isn’t meant for love. That isn’t how this world works. You, on the other hand, should be cherished and he’ll beat the next sorry sucker who does any less than that.

How? How can someone be so foolish to drop you like these men have? He doesn’t get it. Were it him, he’d spend every waking moment appreciating you, letting it be known just how precious you are and how lucky he is to be the one to call you his. But he isn’t. The same daydream can play as many times as it likes, it’s never going to go in that direction. He needs to keep reminding himself of that.

You just deserve so much more than the cards you keep getting dealt. You’ve probably got to be the sweetest person he’s ever had the luxury of meeting. A little bubble-brained at times but that’s in part what makes you so cute. It’s also why you end up in and out of these short-lived relationships, he reckons. Much like now, for instance. It’s almost routine, weirdly systematic in a way, how you waddle into the lair glassy-eyed and red-faced wearing that grey sweater - the one he calls your breakup sweater - that’s two sizes too big for you. So much for the macho man with the green eyes. Making it to one month is a record, so there’s that at least.

Raphael doesn’t say anything, just holds a hand out whilst the other cradles the back of his neck. By now, he’s learnt that there’s nothing he can say. It’s better to wait on you until you manage to find your words. You slowly trudge towards him and smack your forehead into his chest. All he can do is stand there and stare at the top of your head whilst he battles the urge to pick you up and take you away from all this frivolous bullshit. His arm falls to his side as he watches you, and you just about say what he would expect you to.

“I really thought this one would be different,” you whimper quietly and the hiccup in your throat makes his chest burn. “He seemed so genuine.”

Raphael’s heart clenches. He wants to scream that he’s the one who’s genuine, that he’s the one who’s been here through every heartbreak, every tear. But instead, he swallows his words, feeling the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on his chest.

He pats the top of your head, almost awkwardly, and sighs, “I know.”

A pained laugh muffles against his chest. “I’m the problem, aren’t I?” you ask rhetorically, playing it off as some joke at your own expense but it only angers him further.

“It’s not you,” Raph replies, a hint of a growl edging into his tone. “They’re the ones who don’t know what they’re missin’.”

“But there’s a common denominator here. It feels like it’s me.” You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Like, maybe if I was just different-”

“Stop right there,” he interjects, his brow furrowing. “You are not the problem. They are. Trust me on that.”

You always say the wrong things about yourself: the things he thinks about himself on a daily; if he was different. You are such an honest person and yet you lie so frequently when you talk about yourself. A nasty bi-product of those worthless scumbags treating you the way they do. You want to believe him on his word but you also can’t ignore the facts. It’s always the same song and dance. You stupidly cling to hope, searching for the silver lining that never seems to come, and end up in this sad mess of a person.

Raphael watches as you pull away, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of reality. It’s painful to see you so vulnerable, so exposed. He wishes he could shake you out of this cycle, snap his fingers and make you see what’s right in front of you. But he can’t. All he can do is stand there, the silent sentinel, while you cry into the fabric of your sweater. The moment lingers, heavy and full of unsaid words. He wants to tell you that you deserve better, that you should never settle for the likes of those clowns who don’t recognize your worth. Yet, the words stick in his throat, tangled with his own fear of inadequacy.

He clears his throat, trying to break the tension. “Tell you what, let’s grab a couple sodas and a slice. Sit up top for a bit, yeah?”

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know if I can eat right now, Raph.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to get outta this gloom. Plus, I’m starving,” he responds with a half-hearted attempt at humor, but the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Finally, you yield. Begrudgingly, he might add, but food and the fresh night air is what you need right now, especially seeing as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment all day crying. He takes whatever pizza he had leftover - it’s only lasted because Mikey has luckily been out - along with a couple cans and leads you through the sewers. Whilst he’s essentially forcing you outside, he goes at your pace, never pushing you beyond that. Sure, it takes longer than it should but you get to a nice rooftop eventually, and before you know it, he’s already got you venting with a slice in your hand.

“And then he pulls out the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shtick,” you say and Raph follows with a quiet “Of course, he does,” before you continue, “and I swear, I could’ve just slapped him.”

“You should have.”

You hum shortly against a bite of pizza and shrug. “Ah, the moment’s long gone, anyway.”

The two of you glance at each other with a small laugh before returning to the view ahead. This feels better. Much better. Once again, your knight in shell-y armour has helped you bounce back from your foreboding. If you had it your way earlier, you would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch some bad reality TV to cheer you up. Not where Raph is concerned. He’s soft-natured when you need that shoulder to cry on but knows when to crack out a bit of that tough love, too. You’re always thankful for that - him - and you hope he knows just how much of a difference he makes.

"Hey.” He nudges you with his elbow and you look up, noting the light smirk on his face, though the seriousness behind his eyes isn’t something to be ignored. “Next asshole that breaks your heart, you just point me in the right direction.”

"And be an active participant in murder? Not a chance," you laugh and playfully swat him, earning a low chortle. You think you know what he’s getting at and it’s sweet in weird kind of way. With a perma-smile now glued to your face, you rest your head on his arm and speak more gently, "Thanks, though."

He glances down at you and tempts the idea of stroking a hand over your head. His fingers clasp into a fist and he looks ahead again, taking a gentle breath before responding quietly, "Yeah... don't mention it."

[bweeeb]

BOAT PROBLEMS

DBF Joel Miller X Reader

HAWAII SOLUTIONS PART TWO

Summary: After the night before, all you could remember was his hands on you, but apparently Joel was trying really hard not to notice you there, more than you would like.

warnings: hard dick, cock sucking, admit dirty things ,blow job with the door open, maybe some shitty writing. enjoy

Notes: I really don't feel this part two but I did what I could, I hope I didn't disappoint anyone.

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The feeling still burned on my skin

The fleeting memory of his fingers gripping my thighs, my ass, my breasts, everywhere. It still made me want to moan and crave more.

Joel Miller was like a drug—one of those dangerously good men who get you hooked and leave you wrecked when they're not around.I stretched on the bed, breathing in his scent that still lingered on my pillow.

Maybe I had underestimated him, but the man fucked me four times in just a few hours.

Believe me—Joel Miller’s cock takes you to another plane of existence.

"Sweetheart, we're heading down for breakfast."

Two knocks on the door separating my room from Addison and my dad’s. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see either of them right now… or if it was just that growing ache inside me that needed release.

Just when you think things couldn’t get any weirder, it hits you—how weird it feels for everything to seem so... normal.

There he was. Sitting next to my dad, casual as hell, looking at me too casually—if a sideways glance even counts as looking. But what I did notice was him staring at that damn spa lady Addison introduced us to before we headed out to the yacht for the day.What the fuck is this?

“Hey. Sweetheart, why don’t you go ahead with the girls? I need to talk man-to-man with Joel.”

My dad said it, and even as I walked with the two women, my ears were sharp, listening behind me.

“I heard something while we were waiting at the deck yesterday… you and… you know.”

“You know what?”

Dad must’ve gestured or something, because Joel chuckled like the idea was absurd.

“Oh hell no, man. What the fuck?”

“I know, it’s just—she’s my daughter. And you two were… together.”

“She went up to her room. Some local girl showed up, we were talking, and I figured—hey, you only live once, right?”

“Well. Glad you’re having fun, man.”

I don’t know if that’s what I wanted to hear. Joel obviously wasn’t going to admit anything, but still—it wasn’t what I expected. Oh, what was I expecting? Don't even ask. Especially since, as we walked toward the boat, my dad was ahead with Addison, and the bastard stayed back with Miss Sunshine, whose name I didn’t even bother to remember.

If he didn’t care, then I sure as hell cared even less. And yes, I would keep saying that teenage bullshit to myself until I drove him out of my head.

Oh my God. What am I? Fifteen years old, for God's sake.

Hours later, I was sitting at the front edge of the yacht when someone took a seat beside me. Out the corner of my eye, I saw a guy—my age, dark hair, styled like he had money, an open blue shirt, beer in hand, and a smile that could melt panties.

“You’re way too beautiful to be sitting alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

He glanced around. I smiled, turning my back to the sea and facing him.

“Well, I don’t see anyone.”

“Maybe you should be that someone then.”

“Perfect.”

He smiled, hand landing on my waist.

“Where are you from?”

“Texas.”

“You don’t sound Texan.”

“I usually show my Texan side when I’m riding.”

I smirked, and he bit his lip.

“You gonna show me how you ride?”

“Maybe. Where are you from?”

“California.”

“Californians are the best to ride.”

Lies. Joel Miller was the best.

“Ridden many?”

“Californians? Nah.”

“Come on.”

He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the yacht cabins. But our giggles were cut short by a cough.

“Hey kid, they’re calling for you up top.”

Joel.

“Now.”

His tone was firm. The guy vanished, leaving me irritated, turned on, and did I mention irritated? Yeah. Still fucking irritated.

“Were you gonna fuck him?”

Who cares? I’m in fucking Hawaii.

“Oh my God, you were.”

Joel looked me up and down, shocked.

“Come on, Joel. . You ruin my thing, act like you didn’t do anything, flirt with that hoker the entire day and still think you have the right to say something?”

“You were about to fuck a guy whose name you don’t even know—and she’s the hoker?”

He did not just say that. Okay, it seemed like that, but man, he knew me well enough to know I wouldn't do that.

“So now I’m the hoker?”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head.

“Maybe I wasn’t even gonna fuck him. Maybe I’d just suck his dick. I don’t know. At least he’d get hard faster than you and I’d never have to see him again unlike you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He pointed at me.

“I do. You’re the one pretending you didn’t come inside me four times last night and now acting like you’re gonna do the same with that woman.

”I pointed at him, and silence grew thick between us.

“I wasn’t doing that. I’m hiding.”

“Hiding? "

" Pretending "

" You’re pretending that you’re not into me by getting with her? That’s why your dick’s bulging in those shorts? Because you’re hiding your hard-on for her?”

He stepped in, closed the gap, and pushed me into a cabin, growling into my ear while grinding his hard cock against my stomach.

“Hiding that my cock’s fucking hard as hell for you. Because you keep walking around with those damn tits out, that sweet ass covered in nothing but that see-through shit, and all I can think about is your tits bouncing in my face. You are the fucking problem.”

“Not my fault you can’t control yourself and act like you don’t even know me.”

“Then suck my fucking dick right now so I can stop pretending my hard-on’s for her.”

He ordered, and I was on my knees almost immediately. The cabin door was slightly open, and all I could hope was that no one came by and ruined this.

I pulled his shorts down, his cock slapping up against his stomach, making me let out a nasal laugh.

“Shit, you’re really fucking hard.”

One hand on my neck, the other wrapped around his length. I licked him slowly, dragging my tongue around the tip and spitting warm and slow over the swollen head.

“Quick, baby.”

He groaned, pressing my head down, and I braced myself against his thighs.

“Beg for me.”

I looked up through my lashes, dead serious.

“Come on.”

“Beg for me, Joel.”

I let go of his cock and he groaned in frustration.

“Fuck, please, sweetheart. I need you.”

“You need me?”

“Only you. It’s always been just you.”

He panted, and I smiled, stroking him again.

“How much?”

“I’ve jerked off over a hundred times thinking of you.”

The words fell from him like my touch had unlocked a vault.

“Oh yeah? What else?”

I asked, taking him into my mouth and sucking on the pink head.

“Stole one of your panties once. Jerked off with it while listening to one of your voice notes.

I pulled off, hearing a soft ‘pop'

“So filthy. Oh, Mr. Miller.”

I sucked him in again, deeper this time.

“You are… fuck. You’re fucking ruining me, sweetheart.”

“Mmhm.”

I mumbled with him deep in my throat, pulling back slowly.

“What else, Joel?”

I gave kitten licks to his tip. He gripped my hair tighter, making me moan, thighs clenching with how wet I was.

“Remember that night you called me? Drunk? Said you felt lonely and horny? I jerked off with you on the phone. Felt like shit after.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. I did too.”

“What?”

“I called you because I was horny. Wasn’t drunk at all. Just needed to come with your voice in my ear.”

I smirked as Joel groaned, coming hard and painting my chest with it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna tell your dad. We’re gonna be together, baby. We’re gonna do this right.”

His hands softened, brushing my skin gently—until I looked up.

And saw my dad. Arms crossed. Eyebrow arched. Pissed as fuck.

“You gonna tell me you’re fucking my daughter, you son of a bitch?”

Everything happened fast—Joel was yanked away from me and my dad’s punch landed hard. I froze. Joel didn’t fight back. He just took it.

“Dad!”

I screamed, scrambling from the floor, rushing to them as Addison pulled my dad away.I dropped beside Joel, who looked at me before closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“You okay?”

I whispered, brushing his bruised face.

“I deserved that,”

he muttered, standing up slowly.

“I’m sorry, okay?”Joel looked at my dad, whose back was turned while he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re sick.”

My dad hissed, and I narrowed my eyes, pissed now.

Excuse me?

“Dad.”

“No. He watched you grow up. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“Well, it did. And it’s not just his fault.”

“He’s too old for you.”

He shook his head.

“And you’re too old for Addison.”

“So that’s what this is about?”

He yelled, and I threw my hands in the air—

“No, but if we’re playing that card, then maybe think about that for a second”

" Listen, I love her, man, I love her."

Joel stepped in front of me, and I froze, just staring at his back. Does he love her?

" You lied to me. I asked you about this, and you fucking lied to my face."

" You wanted me to admit it? I’m sorry, man."

" You should love her like a niece.My dad yelled, walking closer, pissed off."

" Well, I don’t. I did that once, alright? I didn’t love her when she was a kid, not the same way i love her now. I love the woman she’s become now, and that’s so much more than just sex, because long before this trip, I knew it."

" Damn, you fucked her, man."

My dad yelled, and I just kept staring at the back of his neck like a statue.

When the boat docked at the hotel, the silence stayed until everyone went to their rooms, except for me. I stopped at Joel’s door, and as expected, he opened it.

There I was, cleaning his face with cotton from the mess we made.

" He’s gonna be fine."

I whispered as I wiped his nose.

" At least he didn’t break your nose. I like your nose."

I admitted, and Joel smiled at me.

" I really love you."

He said the same thing from earlier, and I stopped, looking into his eyes.

" I think I love you too. I always wanted you to see me, you know? I thought it was hopeless, but look at us now. "

I said, laughing through my nose as I went back to cleaning his face.

" You’re ready."

I said, getting out of his lap and tossing the cotton in the bathroom.

" You know something you still owe me?"

I said, turning my back to him.

" What?"

" Make me come. I’ve been so horny since the boat ride, and you haven’t done anything."

" Guess I’ll have to take care of that."

The night was gonna be long. How lucky am I

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a bad ending, sorry. I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are open

@theoraekenslover @hungryforbatboys @tracymbcm

[leyavo]

| Swarm | 6

Part six: the op doesn’t go as planned and Bug finds herself thrust back into another web of outdated structures that were built to keep her down in. 2k+words

Previous parts ->[Bug series Masterlist]

There’s no ‘I’ in team, but there is a me, mate, tame and meat. That’s all you are, a body moving in sync with your task force. Taught to swallow down whatever shit happened minutes before this op. You can’t quite seem to get rid of the lump at the back of your throat though. It burns, coats your tongue with poison and the weight of not saying it aloud nearly chokes you.

The 141 are not your mates, they’re your colleagues. You follow the lieutenant’s words as if it were written in stone, no deviating from his orders. But as lieutenant Riley’s gloved hand shoves you encouragingly to the armoured truck, your boots dig into the ground in every act of defiance. You draw a line. Swallow the lump at the back of your throat and decide never to talk about it.

There’s no way you’re getting in that truck. A mere hour ago you were stuck in a watchtower, watching your team and another specialist unit swarm the grounds of an unspecified location. You’d seen the badge before, vowed never to except any help what so ever from them. Roach stares at you from the back seat, it’s the first time he’s dared to look at you since the armoury two days ago. He’s tired, you all are and he can’t keep his guard up all the time.

An extraction team, contractors that liked to boast of saving task forces as if they were gods themselves. Ex-military almost cult like in their approach of recruiting families to act as safe houses across the globe. Dressed all in black, a Red Cross stitched on the patch on the left of their chest, always over the heart - some greater bullshit meaning you couldn’t care less about. Like the sand trickling down an hourglass, your time is up.

“Bug.”

One of the contractors scoffs at the name, mumbles how fitting it is as you’re starting to bug him, the way you’re still standing there. His fingers curl around the strap of your tactical vest and yanks you towards the truck. You don’t get far though as Ghost rips the man’s grasp off you, the threadbare vest tearing along with it.

“You either get in on your own accord or I drag you in, sergeant.” Lieutenant Riley’s on his last nerve, head leaning down to murmur in your ear. His gaze flits to the torn strap flicked over your shoulder and the tear of your gear, red staining the coarse fabric. He always gives you an option, before he takes matters into his own hands.

There is no choice though, just a warning of the consequences if you don’t do as you’re told. You normally do exactly what you’re told though, with no warning. The Captain, Gaz and Soap are ahead in another car, the only thing left in their wake are the tire tracks in the sludge of mud. No doubt they’d chew you out too.

Kinda laughable how the wound weeping blood is the same shoulder your old captain used to drive his knuckles against. Definitely a chip on your shoulder, something you can’t fight. An assault always flung at you and you have to decide whether to dodge it or take it. Take it like a good soldier. No choice remember.

Bug, your call-sign chanted at you until you give in and clamber up into the armoured vehicle. You slide on the bench next to Roach, leaning your elbows on your thighs and holding your head in your hands. Ghost sits directly opposite you burning a hole in the crown of your head, his palm shooting out to clasp your knee and stop it shaking.

You’re so tired, starting to feel the sluggish pull of tension in your limbs. Muscles aching and head pounding, the small gash on your forehead rubs against your cap, it has been since you covered it before the op. You fiddle with the cuff of your sleeve, fingers twisting the hem so it covers your wrist. The truck jolts to a stop and you can’t bring yourself to peel your hands away from your eyes.

The dirt on your fingers smudges the sweat and you blink, wincing at the sting. You’d rather take a bullet than enter whatever safe house laid beyond the dark interior of the truck.

Ghost’s voice is steady, but the weight of his steps sway the ground beneath your boots. “Come on, Bug.” He looms over you, but you just stare at his shadow unmoving as he lingers, waits for you to crumble. Knows that somethings off, you just don’t have the guts to tell him that everything feels off.

And like every other day, you drag yourself to stand and put one foot in front of the other. That autopilot switch flicking on without so much as another thought. Muscle memory screaming through your calves as you jump down on the dirt. No, gravel. Your boots kick a cloud of dust behind you, your stride lessening and steps scraping along the pebbles. In the near distance sits a cabin, not your small wood type, but one that could double as a ski lodge out of season.

Contractors flit across the grass like shadows, rifles secured on their front and gloved hands hovering close to the triggers. They don’t glance your way though as you follow Ghost and Roach to the front of the cabin. A set of stairs you can’t see yourself lugging yourself up, porch wrapping around the exterior.

You don’t hear whatever the Captain says to you as you meet back up with them. No, you’re staring at the greying medic descending the creaking steps. It’s like looking in a mirror, the same nose and eyes that hold your own. She doesn’t smile though, her hand removing the gun from the holster around your thigh and the other taking the knife in the pocket of your vest. She tosses them to the ground, kicking the dagger further away as if knowing you’re likely to hide it under your boot in one step.

Standard procedure, if your task force wanted their cooperation then you’d all have to abide by their rules. The Captain and lieutenant are the only ones keeping theirs. A sign of mutual respect and goodwill.

After you’ve been stripped of your weapons, the medic stands in front of you and you lift your chin, glancing to the scar on her chin. The one you gave her. The director of the safe house, talks to Price and the team, he doesn’t so much as look at you though. No, you’re nothing but the dirt under his shoe. A stone grave still breathing to him.

“You look like shit, still keeping score?” The medic asks, flicking the gaping scrap of fabric on your shoulder and eyeing the dried blood. You’re aware of your team watching, but there’s no way you can lie your way out of this now.

“I always keep score, you going to add to it?” You raise a brow, straightening your spine as she stares at you. No shrinking or backing down, you’re not the same person that left.

She chuckles, “only if you earn it.” The corner of her lip quivers, a second of control slipping. “Why don’t we get you guys checked over,” she says turning to your team, hands clasped behind her back as she leads them up the stairs.

Like everything else in this god forsaken place, nothings free. Roach hangs back, trailing after you as you grasp the handrail and drag yourself up the steps. He’s hovering, anticipating you to stumble or fall back, but it only pushes you to keep going. You weren’t going to lean on him, not when he’s avoided you and shut you out. Wanker.

You walk around the wooden deck, entering the white sterile room lined with cots. The over powering stench of bleach burns your nostrils, bright fluorescent lights stinging your eyes as you fought to keep them focussed. Just like before, the same speckled floor and the outdated computers. White coats as you call them poking and prodding Soaps head, one stitching Gaz’s brow.

There’s one each for you all, but the one waiting for you hasn’t glanced up from the medical box they’re sorting through. No longer a kid, but a young woman and the sight turns your stomach, this could have been you. You sit on the edge of the cot, staring at the blood on your hands, the gashes opening on your knuckles as you clench your fist.

A finger hooks under the brim of your cap and removes it. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, Sis.” White gloved hand squeaking as the woman nudged your head to the side and checked the scab on your forehead, a gift from Captain Reynar. Sis, you hadn’t been one since you’d flown away from this web sixteen years ago only to get caught in it once again.

“You’re mistaking me for someone else,” you say, shrugging your tactical vest off and slipping your sleeve down one shoulder. “Fuck off me, I can do it myself.” You dive into the medical box, ripping a bag open with your teeth and spitting the excess out of your mouth.

“Why you always gotta be so god damn stubborn,” she snaps, snatching the gauze from your grasp. “You wanna do everything yourself, no one gets too close. You going to lash out at me too?” She doesn’t look at you, knowing that any bite she has left would wither if she did. She fumbles with the cloth, cleaning the wound on your shoulder, pressing harder as soon as your mouth opens. Better to shut up, she’s already said too much.

Ghost’s glaring at you, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the wall. He’s observing you and the women now slapping a bandage over your shoulder and taping it in place. A little rough in her care, the only time she can get back at you and you just take it, knowing that’s what you deserve.

“Not going to introduce us?” Ghost asks, head tilting to the side. The corner of his lips twitch under his mask, white teeth on the fabric creasing. You want to rip the skull from his face and shove it down his throat. The rest of the guys turn and face you, Price’s keen eyes darting between you and the women tending to you.

It’s not you or the woman though that speaks, no it’s the director. “She’s my excommunicated daughter, no kin of mine anymore. I suggest you toe the line, your Captain already knows.”

“Sorry, Bug.” Price shrugs, adjusting his hat. “Saw their insignia on the back of your neck.”

Fucker, used you. A key to open the door and work with this bloody organisation. It’s politics, a way to play the game. You don’t hold a grudge, the Captain’s only trying to make sure his team makes it out alive. You just wonder how long he’s been holding on to this life line and why he’s only now using it. Was the swarm worth it? Are you going to be able to play their game?

The rank scored into your skin, burnt so you couldn’t cover it with a tattoo. You weren’t high up at sixteen, nothing but an ant made to work for one thing. You weren’t made for one thing though, no you were selfish. They had told you that every time you’d fought against their vision. A reason you’d struck your mother and escaped.

“Great, so what do you want from me?” Nothing comes for free, you’re not part of this organisation or family, so you’ve gotta earn it. You’re not sure if you’re prepared to go back to your small beginnings though. There’s no winning here, just losing. Whether that be the task at hand or yourself. You’d worked long and hard to leave those skills behind. To lock away that part of your brain and not resort to the instinct, to what you were taught.

“What you do best.”

You scoff, “you want me to infiltrate a bloody cartel compound?” In the end they always used your defiance and selfishness against you. Made you rely on yourself, forced you into small spaces so that you could uncover bigger ones.

“Yeah, you and Roach.”

🤝 Bug and Roach teaming up in the next part (will be a while til the next one, hopefully not too long). 🫡 please note I am dyslexic so there may be errors/mistakes. I do edit multiple times but miss out things - Leya