#sorry i am going to be. a little slow answering these. but thank you so much!! c:

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

An Altar For Our Sins

Part 10// Masterlist

Demon! Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, angst, pain, sorrow, torment, delving into Billy's past, mentions of smut, and eventual fluff.

A/N: I was so confident about this and now I am not.

You press the weight of your body against the church doors nervously, stepping in.

There's a sermon happening, Father Matt's gentle voice echoes through the open space, tickling the insides of your ears.

Billy's waiting outside, you told him you wanted to come in alone first and then you'd tug on the bond once Matt accepted.

He's finishing up, one last closing prayer, and though you bow your head and clasp your hands respectfully after sliding into the very last pew, you have no idea if you really want to pray or not.

If you were thankful to God for anything, it would be for allowing Billy and you to meet. The irony wasn't lost on you, thanking God for sending you a demon.

You feel the demon in question send a lingering touch over the bond, like gentle fingers smoothing through the back of your head.

You smile to yourself, pushing him away before he can arouse you in a sacred place of worship, his essence drawing back with a feeling of mirth sticking to the back of your throat.

You try not to think too much of how he makes you feel. You know that the minute you realise the inevitable, he’s going to know it too. So instead of dwelling, you study the wooden pattern of the pew in front of you. You make shapes, and faces, and you drown out the sounds around you until you hear footsteps approach.

Matt, moving stiffly to you as everyone disperses. You sit up, smiling at him politely as he comes within earshot.

“What are you doing here, demon?” He whispers, voice heavy with distaste.

It takes you aback.

“Matt?” You say in confusion.

He pauses, seemingly surprised behind his red-rimmed glasses before giving a small tilt of his head.

He says your name in doubt.

“Yes?” You answer, unsure of what was happening.

He sucks in a deep breath, looks around, before leaning closer.

“I couldn’t recognise you. Your aura- it’s just like his.”

You feel something twist inside of you, a seed of fear planting itself and you don’t really know why, but you’re pretty sure that having the aura of a demon couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

Your eyes widen a little, completely forgetting what you were even here for.

“Is that bad?” You ask him in a small voice.

“Of course it’s bad- how could anything about being soul bonded to a demon be good?”

You shrink back, and at the same moment, Matt realises his mistake.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“-How else could you have meant it?” You ask helplessly.

He lets out a soft breath, stepping into the row, and taking a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“Whatever.” You whisper, “My soul is damned and I’m going to rot in Hell it’s fine.”

He takes in a slow breath, and you wait patiently for his priestly wisdom.

“What brings you here?” He asks finally.

You study your hands, observing the little lines and folds, the way some of the curves looked like smiles.

“I was in his head, in his dreams. I could feel so much of him.”

Matt nods in understanding, drawing conclusions from what he can sense and what you've come to him for.

“I don’t know what happens from this point on, I can only assume that his soul will consume yours whole, that you’ll become one, condemning yourself to eternal suffering for the sins he’s committed.”

You remain silent, truly thinking about the consequences.

“What other choice do I have? It's not like I caused this.”

He seems to be lost in as much thought as you are.

“Perhaps, with distance, and devotion to being a better person, you could erase some of the stains on your soul.”

You nod, understanding his point. You didn’t want that though, you wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“Is Hell even that bad?” You protest softly.

“I know you didn't just ask me that.”

It makes you laugh suddenly. Matt angles his head, smiles along with you.

You enjoy laughing with him about the absurdity of your conversation, finally settling after a few moments, going back to your thoughts.

“I keep weighing it in my head, you know? Staying away from him, or spending eternity in suffering, and honestly, I keep thinking that Hell wouldn't be so bad.”

Matt says your name softly, almost apologetically.

“Forever is a very long time.” He utters finally.

“Yeah… but…”

Matt turns to you suddenly, standing and extending his hand in a guiding motion.

“Come, I have something for you to see.”

You stand, following him as he seems to move with purpose, down the aisle of the church and toward the back where his office is. You tug gently on the bond and feel Billy’s responding pull followed by a soothing touch, no doubt trying to ease the tension he'd been feeling from you before.

You feel your trepidation ease, the reminder that he was so close easing your nerves.

Matt opens the door for you, and you step in, turning to watch him shut the door, before he speaks.

“I haven't had a chance to look through everything yet, but I thought I could show you…” Matt doesn't finish the sentence, instead pulling out a large leather bound binder. Some of the pages are marked with little page tabs and you watch him flip to one.

It's an admittance registry for an orphanage dated 1891. You see that Matt has highlighted one name in particular, a William Russo, age 6, his height and weight recorded, followed by some details of his birthmark. Finally, there is some information of how he was found, hungry on the streets after his mother was found dead of narcotics poisoning.

You glance up at Matt, your teeth pressed together in distaste that he would look up these details, as if they were in his right to do so.

If Matt senses any of your anger, he doesn't show it, instead sliding his hand forward and flipping to another page mark.

It's a doctor's report, barely legible on the discolored paper. You squint at Matt suspiciously, wondering how he even read this to know which pages to mark.

You see his name again, William Russo, dated December 8th 1896, aged 12.

It takes you a moment to make out the words, but the doctor reports of severe assault, and damage to his shoulder that will require surgery to fix. They mention his physical state next, pale and shaking, visible signs of distress and a refusal of pain medication.

Your stomach turns, and the pieces fall into place at a bone jarring speed.

He'd been through this, that little boy you'd seen in your dreams, attacked by the very people that should have protected him.

You sink into the chair, pressing your hand to your mouth, flipping the page to see the post surgery report, and the doctor describing how the shoulder was repaired. You feel an aching pain that goes through your whole body, the hurt of knowing what he's been through.

Behind you, the door rattles.

“Call your demon off.” Matt says evenly.

You glance up at him, before turning to look at the door. Glowing sigils as the door shakes, you stand, approaching curiously, reaching a hand up to touch it, before drawing back as the light from the sigil stings you.

“Billy?” You call through the door.

It stops shaking.

“Mistress? Are you alright?”

“I'm okay, I'll be out in a few minutes I promise.” You reach for him down the bond, reassuring him that you were okay.

You feel his hesitation, his power, that the door might hold him temporarily, but not forever. You don't think it's necessary, easing his displeasure with a playful tug on the bond.

It surprises him, eases his concern, he tugs back, so strongly that you feel a physical manifestation of it, stepping forward to catch yourself from tumbling.

You let out a little huff of amusement before turning back to Matt, eyeing his patient disposition with renewed suspicion.

You want to ask him what's the purpose of this, but you already have a general idea that he wants to show you Billy's sins in hopes that you abandon him. 

You sit, flipping through the pages to the next mark.

It's a photo, a man and woman in the center, looking at each other with soft smiles, dressed In wedding attire. You can't see much of the woman's face, but her dress is beautiful, flowing down the length of her body, covered in beading that you can't properly discern with the black and white image.

The man beside her, looks at her as if it's the happiest day of his life and you feel your stomach twists in longing to be looked at like that.

Beside her are her family you assume, an older couple and two younger looking siblings that all hold some resemblance to each other. Standing next to the man, are two men, one you recognize is Billy.

You find yourself smiling, staring at the photo, a sense of warmth washes over you that he had friends, that he'd lived this whole other life that you'd never really seen.

You turn to the back of the photo in hopes that there's a description.

Castle Wedding, April 11th, 1909.

You blink, flipping back to the photo. This was Frank and Maria? The people he-

You let out a soft breath, trying to keep your shock in check so that Billy isn't alarmed.

There's a painful twist inside of you, you almost dread to continue on.

You turn the page, finding a baptism certificate, Lisa Castle not even a year later. You suspect that Maria must have been pregnant at the time of the wedding.

At the very bottom, the certificate names Billy as her godfather.

It hurts in a way you don't realize, a story you already know ends badly. You want to stop, to shut the book and pretend you never saw it, but you needed to know.

After all, if you were going to spend eternity in Hell for him, you should at least know the sins you would be paying for.

You flip through, finding a few mentions of him, another photograph of him at an event beside a beautiful woman, no description on the back. You spare a few moments to study the way he looked, dressed in a fine black suit appropriate for the era. Handsome, as only he could be.

Then, a hospital form catches your eye, for Frank Jr. aged nine, filled out by Billy. His handwriting is scratchy, lots of sharp lines made by a steady hand, describing an accident where the younger Frank had fallen off his bicycle and sustained damage to his shoulder. 

You wonder if this incident had reminded Billy of his own, and the vast differences between the nature of the injuries, and yet the similarity of the injuries themselves. Billy, who hadn’t had someone to protect his childhood, had found a way to protect little Frank’s.

Another photo, Frank, Maria and their two children, with Billy, Lisa’s godfather, and Curtis, Frank Jr.’s godfather. The entire Castle family.

You stop, glancing up at Matt, bringing yourself back into the present for a moment. He sits, examining the rosary caught between his fingers, his thumb gently tracing the crucifix, allowing you all the time you need to go through the information.

“I already know how this ends, Matt, he’s already told me what he did.”

Matt nods, tugs on the collar of his shirt for a moment, a sign of discomfort, though, you’re unsure of why.

“I wanted you to see it from their point of view. To understand the betrayal from their side.”

You swallow, brows furrowing, understanding his point but still not liking it.

You find a deed, partially burned, a house in Manhattan owned by Billy. Next, a car, and then another property on his name.

You realise this must have been at the peak of his service to the man he's never named, reaping all the benefits of shooting whenever this man had asked. You wonder, how many people he'd killed up to this point, how many families he'd destroyed to get ahead in the world.

A mugshot next. It makes you smile to see Billy's stern face, a little younger than he looks now, the corner of his mouth bruised, his knuckles red where they hold up the placard with his name on it. You check the charge- fighting in public. 

The affray charge is dropped the day after, and you wonder what the fight was even about in the first place.

You pause for a moment when you flip the page, realising that this was the part you'd been dreading.

A news article, wrinkled and yellow, three killed at the Castle residence. There are individual photos of them, Maria, Lisa, Frank Jr.

It hurts to read it, the article goes into detail of how the bodies were found. No signs of forced entry, someone must have opened the door to let him in. Why wouldn't they? He was family after all.

Maria is found at the base of the stairs, a bullet in her chest from close range, small defensive wounds as though she'd put up a fight. Lisa, in her bedroom, two sets of bloody footprints around her body, Frank Jr. hiding in his sister's closet, shot through the door, found barely alive and rushed to the hospital where he succumbs. 

You shove the book away, rising to your feet. You can feel your body shake with the emotion you feel. The hurt threatens to break you. You can't even imagine the terror that the Castle family went through.

Billy had done that. He'd spread carnage wherever he went and he hadn’t stopped when his own family was in the line of fire.

“I'll tell you how it ends.” Matt says, closing the book, “The next page is an autopsy report for William, face carved beyond recognition, shot several times by Frank Castle, then a news article, reporting on Frank's death, having been mortally injured by Billy in their fight.”

There's a twisting in your chest, you turn, reaching for the door of Matt's office, ignoring the stinging pain as you wrench the door open.

He's leaning against the opposite wall just outside, when you pull the door open, he raises his head to look at you with red eyes.

His face is calm, yet you can feel the hurt, the anger, the self loathing running through him. You can tell that he's just waiting for your rejection.

You consider reaching for him, soothing his pain, but you hesitate, reminded of Lisa's happy face.

“Did you kill your family, Billy?” You ask, your voice unable to rise above a whisper.

He's silent for a very long moment.

“I did.” He finally says, and there's so much finality in his voice that you almost miss the flickering of pain inside of him.

It's an odd kind of pain, one that leads you to believe that he isn't being entirely truthful.

“Did you shoot them all yourself?” You ask, probing into his emotions through the bond.

He swallows.

“I might as well have.”

Your eyebrows draw together.

“Tell me the truth, please.”

He hesitates, you can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, but you need to know.

“It's okay,” you step forward, reaching out to take his hand. You feel the pit in his stomach ease.

“It's my fault. I killed them. It doesn't matter who pulled the trigger. It might as well have been me.”

“Show me the memory.” You plead, reaching up to cup either side of his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head.

“My demon,” you whisper gently, raising onto your toes to rub your nose along his, “Show me.”

He makes a small noise of distress, of defeat, cupping the back of your head, worried that it may be for the last time, his lips meet yours.

It plays like a dream, he faithfully reports to a man named Rawlins, that Frank wants out of their organization. Rawlins informs him that someone's been talking to the police and Frank is the top suspect. He sends Billy to dispatch the Castle family as a last show of loyalty.

Frank isn't home, but Maria is so insistent that he comes inside, offers him a glass of water before he pulls the gun on her.

She thinks it's a joke at first. Why would the man who helped paint her daughter's room blush pink ever pull a gun on her?

But as he goes on, as he explains how terrified he is of being on the streets again, her face falls, and a betrayal so raw fills her expression instead.

Billy is erratic, he’s unfocused, you can tell by the way Maria’s eyes shift side to side as he paces, as he wrestles with the worst decision of his life.

She takes her chance while he’s distracted, throwing a vase so hard at his head that the pain blinds him for a few seconds. He drops the gun and she reaches for it. He grabs her just as her fingers close around it, she scratches his face, he twists her wrist in an attempt to free the gun.

It’s pressed between them when it goes off. Her eyes widen, his steely resolve shatters. He presses a hand to her chest as he lowers them to the floor, he can’t believe what he’s done.

He says her name, tries to figure out how he could have done this to her, the woman that so readily accepted him into her home.

She bleeds out quickly, the bullet having gone straight through her heart. He holds her hand while she dies.

He stands, walks with heavy feet up the stairs to the second floor where her children are no doubt hiding.

He didn’t mean to do it, but he doubts that will save him from Frank’s fury. The only way out of this now, is through.

Lisa’s breathing is shallow, echoing through her room, coming from the closet where she’s hidden. He wrenches the door open, watches her young ashen face. She says his name cautiously.

The gun is cold in his hand. In an instant, he knows can’t do it. He remembers holding her for the very first time, remembers soothing her little cries. He can’t take the life of the little girl he promised to protect.

A noise downstairs catches his ear, the sound of glass crunching under a boot. He knows it’s not Frank, knows by the absence of screaming that this is a stranger to Maria.

He raises his fingers to his lips, before closing the closet door.

Rawlins hadn’t trusted him.

The man he’d put above family itself had sent someone else to make sure the act was done.

Billy tries to find Frank Jr. before the man finds him, but as he’s tugging the boy from under his bed, he hears Lisa’s terrified gasp.

He runs, gets there just in time to shove the man away from his goddaughter. A fight breaks out, and he loses track of the kids. 

He’s winning at first, manages to hold the upper hand, but eventually he falters, doesn’t dodge a right hook, and it disorients him for long enough for the man to grab the gun.

It’s not like the movies, where someone saves them at the last second by sheer luck. The man fires blindly into the room, before running off.

Billy somehow manages nothing more than a graze to his thigh, but as he turns, he realises that he wasn’t the man’s intended target.

Lisa is already dead by the time she hits the floor. Billy can barely breathe as he crawls his way over to her, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of her neck. He whispers her name, crouches over her body, hoping to shield her from any hurt, but she’s already gone, and vengeance is the only thing Billy can see.

He grabs his gun, and races out of the house, past Maria’s still warm body, desperate to fix something irreparably shattered.

You pull back from his mouth, blinking into awareness, realising that not much time had passed at all.

You withdraw, bending over, one hand braced on the wall to catch your breath from what you’ve seen and felt.

“It was all my fault.” Billy murmurs finally, his guilt and shame swelling in the back of your throat.

You straighten, looking up at him. He studies you for a moment before turning away.

“It doesn’t matter who fired. It was my fault.”

“He would have killed all of you either way. He would have found someone else-”

“-I could have saved them, I could have gotten them out. I chose not to. I was a coward, chasing after wealth as if it could ever give me what I already had.”

He turns away from you, his fists curling.

You know he’s right, that he’s not innocent just because he didn’t pull the trigger. Their blood is still in part on his hands.

Matt draws your attention, stepping into the doorway of his office.

You know what he wants. He wants you to cast judgement on Billy and abandon him.

You blink, deep in thought, unsure of how to proceed, unsure of which voice in your head is the right one.

Billy isn’t a good person, has never claimed to be one, has done things so terrible that it hurts you just to think about it.

But you also know that Billy still thinks he’s in Hell, and leaving him would only reinforce that fallacy.

“I won’t do it.” You finally say to Matt.

He responds by saying your name in protest.

“-No,” You interrupt, “He’s paid for his sins, he’s endured torment for what feels like an eternity and he has already been judged.”

You reach for Billy’s hand, tugging him with both your strength and the bond between you until he turns to face you.

“It doesn’t matter if my soul is damned. What’s one more soul in Hell anyway?” You gaze up at him, pressing your emotions into the bond, wanting him to feel exactly what you were. 

“What difference could I possibly make to Heaven?” You question aloud, taunting the universe for an answer.

His eyes settle on you, his hands reach up to cup your face, wonder fills the bond as if he’s seeing you for the very first time, like a familiar breath against a spot deep inside of you that you think might be your soul.

“What does Heaven have, that I can’t find when I reach for you?” You ask him simply.

His shaky breath brushes against your lips.

“I can’t ask this of you.” Billy utters, his lips barely moving.

You smile, a little one filled with amusement and something deeper.

“You don’t have to ask.” You respond, rising onto your toes.

The kiss is blisteringly sweet, tongues feverishly hot, you can feel his desire, and he can feel yours and it secures in your mind, that there was no other way for this to be.

Lost, is an understatement. All you can feel is his mouth and his soul and his unending need for you to be a real person that really wants him.

You giggle into his mouth, tugging playfully on the bond, and when he winds his arms around you to lift you, the clearing of Matt's throat interrupts your tryst. You smile, feeling Billy’s anger at being interrupted, squeezing his bicep to soothe him.

“I respect your decision, even though I disagree. I think I understand, a little bit more than I did before, about the two of you, and how you balance each other out.”

Your smile widens.

“I appreciate that, Matt, and oddly enough, I consider you a friend.” You say, extracting yourself from Billy’s grabby hands to approach the priest in question.

“And,” You relent, “I also appreciate your attempt to show me the truth. If I didn’t know my demon, I might have done what you suggested.”

You feel a slither of delight go over him, hearing you claim him so openly.

“And if she’d let me,” Billy interjects, “I’d pluck those useless eyes from your head in a heartbeat.”

You gasp in horror, spinning to face your demon.

“You will do no such thing! That’s our cue to leave- Thank you for everything Matt- Billy no-” You spin him around, pushing him toward the door, stopping him from approaching the priest, currently shaking his head in disbelief.

Matt listens patiently as you leave, letting out a sigh when the door finally closes, and he turns, stepping into his office, to begin cleansing his church of residual demonic energy.

.

You drag your fingers along the smooth skin of his back, exploring the feeling, committing his skin to memory.

Between your thighs are sore, having begged Billy not ten minutes before to fill you, hoping for his cock, but experiencing some of the dilators instead.

Apparently, one time wasn’t enough, and you had in fact needed more practice in order to be able to take him.

Unfortunately, based on the way your nether regions were pulsing, he was right, and anything bigger might have hurt you.

Still, you wanted his cock, and you could only shiver with excitement everytime you thought about his massive-

“Mistress.” Billy groans, feeling your desire, he turns to face you, one hand wrapping around your waist to tug you closer to his warm body, his tail curling itself more securely around your thigh.

“Have I not satisfied you enough? Would you like my tongue again?”

You laugh softly, resting your palm against his stubbled jaw.

“No, my demon, I was just thinking.”

He exhales, nods in understanding. You move your hand to continue trailing your fingertips over his back. When you brush the edge of his shoulder blade a little too lightly, you feel something stir within him.

You do it again, focusing on that one spot, and when you try a third time, Billy lets out a low groan of protest.

“Ticklish?” You ask, sliding a lone finger between his shoulder blades, smiling when you feel that same feeling again, like a small wave of heat going through you.

You press your hand to his back, soothing over his skin before looking into his eyes.

They're so dark, almost bottomless, glittering occasionally with the light of the Eiffel tower coming through the window behind you.

“There was a picture of you, with a woman, short brown hair, pretty eyes, um…” You try to remember anything else about her.

“Dinah. That was Dinah.”

You blink, thinking that even her name was pretty.

“Girlfriend?” You ask, trying your hardest not to feel jealous.

“In a way. We both had our problems.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

He fights a devious smile, the corner of his mouth lifting, he shifts his body to face you.

“Are you?” He teases.

“Yeah,” You say defensively, raising your head off the pillow, “I'm not here just wishing all your relationships were bad.”

“No?”

“No!” You pout, “I hope all your past lovers were nice to you.” 

He chuckles lowly amused by your words.

“And what about my current one?”

You raise your body, a little defensive.

“What about me? Are we even lovers? You haven't even been inside me properly yet-” You pause for a moment, “Holy shit I just realised that other women have taken that monster between your legs.”

He tilts his head back laughing.

“I'm serious! Were the rest of them as bad as me?”

He stops, looking down at you with a semi serious expression.

“First of all, you're not bad, you're different. Good different.” He says, noticing your parted lips and answering your question before you can ask it.

“It's just taking a little bit more effort to get you to take me and I enjoy that.”

He exhales, rolling his eyes when he realises you're not letting this go without an answer.

“The women in my past before had varying degrees of ability in taking me, does that answer your question?”

“Not really- well-” You tilt your head, thinking about it, “Sure. I don't know what answer I expected.”

He pauses, smiles at you.

“You were trying to compare yourself to women in my past, which makes no sense because I'm not that man anymore, and the things I wanted then, I do not want now.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants now but he stops you by pressing a finger to your lips.

“You also asked that question because deep down you were wondering if there was someone I'd prefer over you and while that's your insecurity talking, the answer is still no.”

Wow, he was in in your head.

“You have to say that, you're bonded to me.”

“I think you'd know if I was lying.” He counters.

You press your lips together, looking down at the soft white sheets between you.

“And now,” he says softly, “You're wondering if I'm only saying this because our souls are connected, and my answer to that is also no.”

You feel doubt rise up inside of you.

You hear him exhale sharply.

“Mistress, I'm not just saying these things because I have to. I mean them, every word.”

He moves closer, pushing you back until he's hovering over you. You look up at him calmly, watching his dark eyes shift to a deep red the longer he studies you. He reaches up, brushing the very tips of his fingers along the side of your face, leaving little tingles behind.

“Things are different now, and I'm glad they are, and if I had a chance to break this connection between us, I wouldn't take it. Ever.”

Kiss me, you think toward him.

He smiles, dipping his head.

.

.

.

[palmredbottoms]

Our 10th year wedding anniversary was spent in the great outdoors. We stayed at a lodge in the mountains for the weekend end Saturday through Monday. Well it was beautiful as we walked along the river and it was great to get out of the city. Because it was winter it was cold with a little snow ❄️ on the ground.

The second day was Sunday and I think my husband thought that I wouldn't give him his maintenance spanking, being away from home. However when I asked him to pack the pruning shears before we left home I think he got a little suspicious.

Well I said "Honey would you bring the pruning shears."Matthew was quite but answered a beligured "Yes dear". Well we walked for a mile and I said.

Me "You know what today is honey"

Matthew "Why yes it's Sunday."

Me"What do you get every Sunday back home my little"Snookums"

Matthew "But yes we are on our anniversary. "And we are not home "

Me "Are you arguing with"Mommy ( he knows that when I use the term "Mommy he is in for a spanking). "You know I just about had to twist your arm to come up here."

Matthew "Well we came didn't we ."

Me( Sarcastically) "I am sorry you had to miss your football games . Matthew""That's okay dear .

Me (Pointing with my glove hand) "You see those willow trees start cutting me some switches. "You have never had a switching before and I have never given a switching.

Matthew ( didn't argue). I am done dear." Here are 4 switches.

Me "Follow me my little Snookums" ( Grabbing Matthew hand leading him to a big log so I could sit down).

Matthew "It cold can't we do this back at the lodge."

Me ( joking) "Snookums I plan on warming you up .( Taking his trousers off. There was no one for at least a mile. ) Across my knee! Well I was wearing tight silhouette leather gloves 🧤 and they were perfect for spanking my husband. Matthew reacted to every slow smack on his white panties.

Matthew Ouch! Ow that stings.!

After seeing that is bottom was quite red from my gloved hand. I wasn't surprised because each time my gloved hand landed there was a echo in the woods. I then proceeded to lead Matthew to a nearby tree and told him to bend over.

Matthew "Go easy on me It's our anniversary and that was a hard Spanking.

Me ( Agreeable) Ok you can keep your panties on. I announced that I was going to give him 25 good cuts with the switches. I told him that I would count each one and I expected to him to stay bent over and thank me after each one .

The first 15 swats with just a flick of my wrist was producing red welts which you could see through his transparent panties.

Matthew (pleading) This is terrible." Can't we stop"

Well I reached back and gave him the last 10 harder right on the seat of his panties. (Panties were ripped. Well I told him that was enough as I pulled his trousers up.

Me (Consoling) It's over Snookums ."You were sure brave."(Patting his behind.) Mommy will rub some lotion on your bottom tonight.As he was sniffing holding his bottom.

I had a very well behaved husband for the week. It's funny what a little switching will.

Lynda

Loving Wives #23-1-1

[fah-ren-heit]

i dont know much about thaddeus so maybe 1 16 25?

hell yeah!!! thank you for asking! :)

1. What clan is your OC?

gangrel and, now that he’s fully adjusted to and comfortable with it, he loves it. there’s no other clan he’d rather be. he’s having such a good time. (maybe too good a time — this man is banned from using disciplines for funsies in the prince’s office.)

16. How good are they at acting “alive”?

super proficient at faking it. he’s definitely the best among my des moines npcs, since everyone else is either old as balls, not actively trying very hard, or Just Not Amazing At It. every once in a while he’ll forget little things that give him away (“oops, just realized i haven’t blinked in a few minutes” type stuff), but he’s so sweet and friendly that it usually gets overlooked. i’d give him a solid 9 out of 10.

25. How often do they cause a masquerade breach?

rarely, if ever. kind of a continuation of the above answer, he is acutely in tune with how and how not to act in public. he’s also real tight with the prince so he figures he should probably uhhh try his best with that shit. that being said, he has very little problem with lowkey helping cover up when someone else has a relatively minor or accidental fuck up! he’ll do it behind the prince’s back too he doesn’t give a fuck!

[brandnewvoice]

mean

pairing: jinx x gn!reader - NSFW

summary: after jinx pulled a prank on you that you particularly didn’t like, you find a way to punish her for insulting you.

warnings: no use of y/n or pronouns, 2nd person reader, use of nicknames (toots, baby) dom/top!reader, bottom/sub!jinx, slight degradation kink, little begging, edging, orgasm denial , fingering, pussy slapping/clit slapping, slight dacryphilia, mean!reader :)

author’s note: second ever smut fic lesgoo!!

a tear rolled down her cheek as she squirms underneath you, “c’mon baby, no crying, remember?” you noted, making sure her legs were open wide as your hand striked her throbbing clit again. “fuck-! i- im sorry, i didn’t mean to- shit-“ she babbled desperately, watching your raised hand before it fell onto her pussy again, “you’re not sorry. not even you can believe that, i know it.” you scolded, finger going up and down her slit painfully slow, acknowledging how wet she was, “looks like someone’s enjoying it to.” you observed, watching her contorted face silently beg for any type of pleasure.

you smirked, pulling the hood of her clit up and striking upon it once again. “im not-! and i am sorry, ok?!” she grunted, voice getting hoarse from every scream she let flow every time you delivered a slap to her pussy.

gazing at her cunt’s pretty lips you gently ran your fingers through her folds, sinking two inside of her and listening as she sighed. you started to pound into her, speeding up your movement, “still not buying it. i just know you’re doing this for the sake of getting off, i’m not stupid jinxie.” you spoke, knowing she’s not even close to paying attention, just arching her pretty back and gripping the sheets.

“fuck please- toots i’m so close- just let me cum- this time-“ you abruptly stopped your fingers at her words, frustration and exhaustion flooding her expression as you pulled out and pulled her hood up again, seeing her brace for impact and body jerk at the sensation, tears running down her face and a cry almost as loud as the slap to her pussy.

you sighed in content with your work, turning around from her to go back to folding the clothes, just like you were doing before she pranked you, the thought of the phrase she put into it still making your blood boil.

she let out a loud whine, trying to catch your attention, a pout forming on her face at the fact you didn’t even budge. jinx let out an exasperated sigh, rolling on her side to look at you, noticing you unbothered by her state. “baby, i won’t do that again, i promise.” she spoke quietly.

“that’s great.” you answered dismissively, catching from the corner of your eye as she awaited you to do something.

being met with nothing, she shuffled closer to you, holding your shoulder gently, “im sorry… please, baby…” she whined right by your ear, trying to make herself sound convincing.

you rolled your eyes, sighing as you put the clothes down, “ugh, such a spoiled little thing.” you groaned under your breath, pushing her back down to the bed and plunging your fingers within her with no warning, making her let out a choked out moan.

you held no mercy speeding up as much as you could, curling your fingers and watching her eyes roll back into her skull. “fuck- aHh- thank you thank you toots- so sorry- th- ank yOu-“ jinx blubbered underneath you, mouth agape as she came undone on your fingers, body suddenly relaxing.

pulling out your slick-covered fingers and wiping them off on the bed, you glance at her falling asleep by your side, curling up upon herself.

you let out a small sigh before pulling her closer for her to lay her head on your lap, finishing your task of folding the clothes in the comfortable silence of her breathing.

[prettyg1irlstears]

i js saw ur pillow princess reader x rafe blurb n its amazing !!

but how would rafe x gf!reader be when rafes friends have been bringing up about how it feels good when ‘the girl takes charge’ but she gets upset n self conscious cs she literally cant, shes js a pillow princess at heart !! she wld constantly ask rafe if shes good enough in bed, if its fine she cant ride him like his friends have been showing off :(((

first of all thank you!!<33 second of all i’m so sorry if i’m answering late, but i hope you’ll like it<3

softbf!rafe x sub!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you’re in the large living room of tannyhill, a pretty sundress on while sitting of your boyfriend’s lap, listening to the conversation between him and his mates.

you were telling rafe that you’ll come tomorrow, that it’s fine if he wants to have a ‘all bro evening’, but rafe insisted on you staying, so you did, because you’re his good girl.

so here you are, playing with rafe’s fingers as the boys don’t bother to acknowledge or respect your presence and talk about their girls.

“bro, my girl’s wildin’ when she takes charge,” kelce boasted, smirking as he took a swing of his beer. “doin’ all the work, feels so good.”

your chest tugs anxiously, slightly squeezing rafe’s fingers as you listen.

“yea i feel ya, man,” topper adds, grinning as he high-fives kelce. “wish you could see the way sarah moves on me ‘cause like goddamn..”

you feel yourself getting uncomfortable, partly because they’re talking about their girlfriends like they were a piece of meat, but mostly because you know you’ll forever be a pillow princess.

“yo, top,” rafe feels jow uncomfortable you are, stroking your silky hair lovingly, thinking it’s just because the conversation’s too much for you. “it’s my sister, man, don’t be gross,”

“sorry bro, not my fault she’s freaky,” topper sneers, kelce chuckling along with him.

you withdrawn a little bit, nuzzling into rafe’s chest as your mind runs a marathon. you were never able to take charge, especially in bed. you and rafe tried it a few times, but you always get all shy and embarrassed, just simply not finding it in yourself to be dominant. but now, after you heard the boys’ conversation, you feel even worse than ever.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“you okay, baby?” rafe asks you softly. the boys have already left, you’re now helping rafe clean the beer cans and pizza boxes. he has noticed something’s off — he always does.

“mm good ray, just tired.” you fake a yawn and give him a small smile.

that seems to make rafe calmer, maybe he just doesn’t want to press you. he comes over to you, placing his hands on your waist. “can we still do sum’ or are you like really tired?”

you chuckle and look up at him. “no we can still do something.” because even though you still feel bad, you can still feel a little wet spot making itself in your panties just from that one simple sentence.

rafe smiles and kisses you, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your butt. “alright let’s get to bed, hm?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you thought it would make your mind go elsewhere, like always, but even when you’re a moaning mess under the muscular body of your boyfriend, you’re still thinking about it.

“what’s the matter, bunny?” rafe grunts into your neck as he kisses it, giving you long and deep thrusts.

“n-no, no!” you let out in a whimper, squeezing his shoulders. “please don’t stop.”

rafe smirks, slowing his pace even more as he bites on a soft spot of your neck. “then what is it?”

you whimper at that, but you can’t keep your worries inside anymore. “am i good enough for you?” as soon as these words leave your mouth, rafe stops, stilling inside of you, making you let out a small whimper of disapproval.

“baby.. baby look at me, will ya?” he gently takes your chin in his hand, making you look up into his eyes.

you look, his hand caressing your cheek as you look up at him with those puppy eyes of yours.

“why would you ask that?” he asks, his voice soft as he has no idea where this is coming from. “of course you are, you always were and always will, baby.”

“because i can’t ride you.. can’t make you feel good..” you say quietly, tears welling up in your eyes. “mm sorry rafe, i just can’t..”

“hey, hey, look at me, baby..” he makes you look at him again, his hands running through your hair and caressing your cheek. “that’s perfectly fine, bunny. you’re perfect, i swear to god,”

you’re looking into his eyes, nervously playing with his curtain bangs. “are you sure? ‘cause i felt really bad earlier..”

rafe chuckles a little, kissing your forehead. “baby, don’t listen to those two pricks. can’t appreciate their girls like i can apprexiate mine.”

he kisses your lips softly, slowly starting to move inside you again. “i love you being my little pillow princess.” he grunts at the movements, earning a tiny moan from you. “wouldn’t change for anything, baby.”

“you mean it..?” you ask, leaving out tiny whimpers as he moves slowly yet deeply, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“absolutely,” he whispers, kissing your lips while leaving out small moans. “don’t have any idea what you do to me like this.”

“alright..” you feel a shy smile growing on your lips, tugging on his hair as his tip hits that one spot inside you. “r-rafe.. please.. faster..”

“faster, yeah?” rafe smirks, increasing his pace, holding the side of your neck, earning sweet little moans from you that make his cock twitch inside of you.

“don’t need ya to take charge, baby..” he lets out a pretty moan into your ear. “js’ fucking you like this is enough for me to go absolutely crazy.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part two

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 1

a/n: here are the rest of the boys! i'll do the bachelorettes next, i might do all of them in one post. sorry for the slow updates y'all <3

harvey

wants it to be a completely special, private moment between the two of you

he knows how prone he is to getting overly anxious about moments like this, so he prepares months beforehand

if there is one thing in life he refuses to mess up, it's his proposal to you

and what's more flawless than tying everything back to the start?

harvey smiles as he watches your eyes grow big, following the sun as it steadily heads for the horizon. the hot air balloon rises into the sky slowly, to his relief — a little extra time to prepare never hurts.

a couple seasons ago, on a rainy, fall day, harvey had told you he had some errands to run before heading down to the beach. he'd been slightly shocked to actually see the old mariner standing there in the rain, despite the speculations that had always circled around town. despite the fact he was apparently a ghost, he had actually been patient with harvey, answering all of his questions with wisdom and guidance.

after nearly two hours of standing under his umbrella, harvey had finally made up his mind, handing a small bag of coins to the old mariner in exchange for the pendant.

"took ya long enough," the older man huffed as he handed the necklace over.

now, harvey waits until the air balloon is higher up in the sky before gently reaching for your hand. you look at him, a small smile on your lips.

"are you enjoying this as much as the first time i brought you up here?" he asks sweetly.

"maybe a little more," you admit, looking over the side again. "i was a bit nervous coming up here in the first place, you know, and seeing you all stiff and anxious didn't help."

"you can hardly blame me!" he laughs. "my fear of heights is deathly, i only did it because you were there with me."

"yeah? and how about now?"

"well, nothing's changed, has it?" he squeezes your hand, looking down at your intertwined fingers. "you're still here."

"i am."

when his eyes meet yours again, he feels warmth bloom across his chest — the setting sunlight seems to make you glow, and he suddenly feels unstoppable.

you squint at him, trying to read his face. "you know," you start softly, "you have the same look on your face as you did back then."

"i do?"

"yeah, you do." you pause, watching as his other hand reaches for his pocket. "harvey, are you—"

"y/n," he interrupts, "that day, when the two of us were up here for the first time, i felt something i never did before — i felt brave, strong. i never thought i was capable of feeling that way, but you proved me wrong, as you always seem to do, and i can only hope i make you feel at least somewhat the same way." he inhales deeply, feeling his face burn red as he takes out his hand from this pocket and opens his fist, the mermaid's pendant gleaming in the light.

"harvey," you breathe, rendered speechless as your eyes widen even more than before.

"you mean the world to me and more, honey," he says quietly, and you can hear the tears he's holding back. "i promise i will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you've made me, so please . . .

"will you marry me?"

after a beat, you let go of his hand, and harvey's heart drops.

then, you grab the necklace and pull it over your head, watching as it shines against your neck.

"yes, harvey," you answer, smiling widely up at him. "the answer has always been a yes."

tears finally fall from his face as he gently kisses you, resting his forehead against yours before pulling you to his chest.

"thank you," he whispers. "i promise, i won't let you down."

you laugh. "this isn't a business contact, you know."

"i know, i know, it's just . . ." he grabs your hand again, pressing a firm kiss on the back of it. "you've already done so much for me, dear," he says, the sun finally dipping beneath the mountains.

"it's time for me to return the favor."

sam

bought it like a week ago since it happened to be raining and he was on the beach

i mean, you'll say yes, right? there's no reason for you not to. so why should he be nervous? he's not nervous at all. not one bit.

at least, that's what he keeps telling himself as he keeps scheduling a bunch of dates with you, thinking there'll be a moment during one of them when he'll make his move

(the moment has yet to come, by the way)

sam slaps his face sharply as he paces around his room, continuously glancing at the clock. he honestly can't believe the pendant is still in the small pouch his mom gave him and not around your neck — her scolds after he returned home with the necklace still in his hands for the fifth time rings in his ears.

"sam, this is an important moment in both of your lives!" she had said, hands sternly placed on her hips. "you can't keep making these plans, just to avoid them at the last second because you're scared. you need to go show them how much you love them, properly!"

he shivers. his mom rarely ever yells at him, so he knows she must have been serious. how was i supposed to know proposing would be this scary?

after realizing he was due to meet you in a few minutes, sam rushedly left his home, heading towards the park where he told you to meet him. he smiles as he sees you sitting on the swing, but before he can get a word out, you're standing up and walking to him, face scrunched in worry.

"sam, is everything alright?" you ask, fidgeting with your fingers. "i've been thinking about it, and you've been worrying me a bit."

"worrying? why?" he grabs the sides of your arms gently, tilting his head. "did i . . . do something wrong?"

"i mean, no?" you shake your head slightly, sighing. "it's just, you've been asking to do so many things, which is great! this just isn't what we normally do. i'm a little worried you're not telling me something."

"wh-what?" he stutters, huffing and shrugging his shoulders. "honestly, sweetheart, i have no idea what you're talking about, really. i mean, do i seem like the type to hide something from you?"

you stare at him blankly for a moment. then, you deflate, a twinge of sadness in your eyes.

"are you breaking up with me?" you question quietly. "is that what this is? because i'd really rather you not drag it on like this, sam—"

"whoa, whoa, what?! break up with you? are you crazy?" he half-shouts, his own heart breaking that he made you think that. "baby, no, i would never."

"i don't know what to think!" you exclaim, a sudden emotion taking over your voice. "you've been acting so odd recently, i didn't know what to think."

he shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. guess this is what i get for not listening to mom.

"here, why don't i just show you?"

"what?"

trying his best to keep his hands from shaking, sam reaches into his back pocket, holding up the small pouch in front of you.

"you see, i, uh, have been trying to figure out the right way to give you this," he finally admits, running his other hand through his hair nervously. "every time we went out together, i thought i would figure it out, but i guess i couldn't. i'm sorry for worrying you, y/n, i really am — i hope you can forgive me, though, or else i seriously have no idea what i'll do with this."

you open your mouth to question him once more, but before you can ask, he opens the pouch and lets the mermaid's pendant fall into the palm of his hand.

"i love you so, so much, honey, more than my words can describe," he rushes passionately, voice determined as he bends his head down and lifts the pendant up. "all i know is, being with you makes everything feel new again. like, the music we listen to, the places we go, the food we eat, everything is better when i do it with you. if i'm being honest, i'm not a hundred percent sure what comes after this, but i do know that i think we'll be okay, as long as we're together." keeping his head down, mainly to hide his flushed face, sam lifts the necklace even higher. "i guess what i'm asking is, will you marry me, y/n?"

sam feels your hand cup his chin to tip his face back up, revealing to him your watery eyes and pink cheeks.

"of course i'll marry you, sam, that's all you had to ask," you say, laughing lightly.

he stands up straight suddenly, whooping and throwing his arms in the air before picking you up and spinning you around. after putting you down, he hastily puts the pendant around your neck and kisses you, feeling your hand entangle itself in his hair as he pulls you close.

"you're such a dork," you tease after pulling away. "what were you so nervous about?"

"what were you so nervous about?" he fires back, crossing his arms and raising a brow. "did you seriously think i would break up with you?"

"like you gave me a reason to believe otherwise! when have we ever gone on dates for an entire week straight? we usually just sit in your room!"

"hey, we do more stuff than that!"

you look at each other in annoyance for a moment before bursting into laughter. unbeknownst to the two of you, abigail and sebastian had seen the whole thing as they were passing by, looking at each other in amusement as they continue toward the town.

"they sound like a married couple already," seb grumbles, and abigail laughs.

"just shows they were meant to be."

sebastian

similar to harvey, he wants his proposal to be for your eyes only, so he decides to do it while the two of you are alone at the lake near his house

determined to do the whole thing by himself, but his mom ends up seeing the jewelry in his room

got the pendant the last summer, it’s the start of spring now

(he’s spent every night since then falling asleep with it in his hands)

sebastian waits for you anxiously near the edge of the water, looking at the pendant in his hand. part of him still can’t believe this is his reality — someone like him, getting married? he scoffs, covering the jewelry with his fist and looking out towards the lake. the water shines under the moonlight, soothing his heart just a bit.

“seb!”

just like that, his sense of peace is gone, blood rushing to his face as he turns to greet you. he smiles softly; you’re wearing one of the coats he gave you since it didn’t end up fitting him properly. he always thought you’ve looked good in his clothes.

“hey,” he greets, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “how was your day?”

“a bit busy,” you sigh, melting into his arm. “spring always jumps on me before i know it.” he hums, subconsciously pulling you closer as he plans out his next words. “how about you? everything okay?”

“hm? yeah, ‘course,” he replies, the necklace clutched tightly in his hand. “just . . . couldn’t sleep that well, is all.”

“why? are you feeling okay?” you ask worriedly, turning to face him.

“stop worrying.” he pokes your forehead, pushing you lightly. he huffs a laugh at your frown. “i had some stuff on my mind.”

“like what?”

like his mom’s advice. seb chews his lip as he quickly thinks back to what his mom had said after finding the necklace lying on his desk.

“this is a serious decision, seb,” she’d said, sitting with him in his room. “you’re sure you want this?”

“of course i am,” he’d retorted sharply. he’s always been a bit defensive over you. “why wouldn’t i?”

she’d sighed, smiling at him warmly. “that’s not what i meant. i’m over the moon about this, i am, i just want to make sure you understand what marriage means.” she paused, lightly placing a hand over his. he’d let her, just that once. “promise me you won’t treat it lightly, okay? they deserve the world, you know that.”

seb smiles slightly. though he’ll never admit it, he’s glad his mom spoke to him.

“about you, actually,” he replies. “i’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

“oh yeah? am i that hard to resist?” you say jokingly.

he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. instead, he calmly shows you the necklace in his hand, silently reading your reaction. your eyes widen, darting between the pendant and his face.

“i’ve never met anyone like you, y/n,” he finally says, swallowing thickly after hearing how shaky his voice has gotten. “you know it’s never been easy for me to open up to people, but it never really felt that way with you. you always seem to know what to say, no matter what i talk to you about. i mean, seriously, i don’t really get it still, but i do know it would be stupid of me to let someone like you go.”

“as if i were going anywhere,” you say, voice watery and quiet.

he gently grabs one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

“well, now i know i’ve got you all to myself,” he replies amusedly. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

laughing, you lightly push him away. “you didn’t even ask me!”

“fine, fine— y/n, will you do me the highest honors and stay by my side for the rest of—“

“alright, stop, stop! you ass.” he laughs as you smack his arm, feigning hurt before grinning. “i could say no, you know.”

“yeah, sure you could, sweetheart.” he places the necklace around you and uses it to pull you to him once more, wrapping an arm around you to kiss you lovingly, the moon brightly shining down on the two of you, as if it approves.

“i’m sure you could.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

#27 with art if you feel so inclined! :) 🖤 please and thank you!

Sure thing!

Prompt: Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Warnings: Established relationship, divorced Art Donaldson, smooches

"Did you eat already? I'm so fricking hungry," You grumble, leaving your suitcase by the door and striding toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, I ate."

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?" You glance back at him from the kitchen. "Ken said you mentioned that it was stiff."

Art doesn't answer for a moment, eyes sweeping across your face. You watch him glance even lower before he shakes his head a little.

"It loosened up."

"If you're sure," You turn back to the sink, cranking on the faucet to wash your hands. "Don't push it if you don't have to."

"I won't."

"How did Lily's uh—Career day go?"

"It went fine. C'mere."

"Her teacher was so excited you could make it, I mean, so happy." You shut the sink off, plucking up the dishtowel to dry your hands before turning to the fridge. "Like, jazzed. I know no one uses that word anymore, but she was jazzed. Did you eat already?"

"I told you I did. C'mere."

"She's always been the coolest kid in the third grade in my opinion, but now it's official. Like—Peer official. Like, blue tick, you know?" You eye the contents of the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"I just said I ate."

"No, right—Sorry. My mind's like," You shake your head. "I'm trying to slow down and catch up at the same time."

"Baby."

"I'm all jet-lagged and just jacked up. Fucking hate conferences."

"Baby."

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

You turn your head from the fridge, raising your brows at the sight of Art's small, amused smile.

"...What?"

"Come here," He laughs, holding his hand out. You close the fridge, rounding the counter slowly and eyeing Art with suspicion.

"What's that look for?" You ask.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look."

"Yes you are."

"I am not."

"I know that face, mister."

He chuckles, taking hold of your hand once you're close enough, tugging you down. You lower yourself over him, straddling his thighs and settling in as his arms curl around your waist. He leans up, sucking a gentle kiss to your neck. You bite your lip, shifting slightly as his hands curl in the fabric of your shirt.

"...Are we picking Lily up from practice tomorrow?" You ask as your mind races.

"Tashi's got her," Art mumbles, the hum of it vibrating against your skin.

"Okay, good. I mean—Not good like—I've got some errands to run and I have to wash my clothes from the trip. I don't wanna mess up her schedule."

Art groans, tipping his head back and leaning away. You frown, pouting.

"What's wrong?"

Art lets his head loll to look up at you, a pout forming on his lips.

"You've been at a hundred since you walked through the door."

"I've got things on my mind."

"I can tell."

"Alright—" You groan, beginning to lean away, but Art's arms tighten around you, leaning up and pressing his chest against yours.

"I missed you," He murmurs. You wilt a little, raising your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I missed you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Because I'm feeling very neglected."

Art grins as you break into a laugh, leaning up and brushing a kiss along the underside of your jaw.

"You poor thing," You coo, turning your head. He catches your lips with his, sliding a hand up to your nape to guide your kisses as you sink down against him.

"...Art?" You mumble against his lips.

"Mm."

"I...Missed this...And you..."

"Mhm."

"But I am starving."

"Pizza'll be here in ten."

You grin, leaning back to look at him.

"You didn't."

"Course I did." His hand slides around your neck, knuckles brushing against your jaw.

"You're gonna spoil me rotten, Donaldson."

"Or die trying."

[girlygguk]

i miss you, i'm sorry | jeon jungkook

my attempt as a hopeless & unapologetic simpy romantic to write angst, drabble, idol!jk x fem!reader, young lovers to strangers to (?), 854 words, jungkook's home, he needs to see you, he finds you, then he wishes he didn't

now playing: gracie abrams—i miss you, i'm sorry

"your hair's shorter."

you stand there, to-go coffee cup in hand, fingers fidgeting around the cup as you try to manage a small smile. your head nods slightly, your hair now brushing just past your shoulders, a little lighter than it was the last time you saw him. "yeah," you say, "yours is longer."

jungkook smiles, his own hair pulled back in a neat bun, the glint of his lip ring twisting under his tongue. "it’s nice. i like it. suits you."

your smile stays on your face, though you feel your heart sink. you blink a few times, fighting a losing battle against the emotions stirring inside you. you never could manage that when it came to him. "thanks, jj."

he nods, his stomach twisting at the way the nickname, once so natural and familiar from your lips, now sounds foreign. he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“bub, i—” his voice trails off. not because you interrupt him, at least not with words. but the way your gaze lifts from the coffee cup lid—chai latte, if he remembers right—catching his with the faintest sadness stops him in his tracks. "i hope you’re well, bub."

you nod, unable to manage anything else. you didn’t have time to grab a sleeve for your cup after hearing the nickname called from behind you as you accepted the hot drink. you knew it was him before you even turned around, the nickname striking a deep ache in the pit of your stomach. nobody’s called you that in five years. nobody else ever had, other than him.

the cup’s heat burns into your fingertips, extra hot as usual, the baristas knowing your order by heart now, and your grip tightens around the tray. it’s subtle, but jungkook notices the tension in your posture. he feels sick.

“i am. hope you are too.” your voice is quiet, honest. “didn’t know you were back in town.”

“you would’ve if you answered my calls.” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t land. your eyes blink at his words, a bit longer this time. “sorry, i—that was… fuck, bub, that was so stupid for me to say—”

“all good,” you reply softly, your smile never reaching your eyes. you try, at least. “i better go, jungkook. it was nice seeing you again.”

jungkook swallows, watching as you step around him to exit the cafe, the familiar scent of your flowerbomb perfume dazing his senses. his body reacts instinctively to the comfort of the smell. before he can stop himself, his legs are moving, following it.

he catches the door of the shop just before it closes, stepping out into the chilled busan air. the sensation is both grounding and unsettling, nostalgia washing over him in a heavy wave. he’s always loved how cold it is here. you do too. at least, he thinks you do. he doesn’t know anymore.

“bub, wait, could i just talk to you for a—” he slows as he takes a step forward, his footsteps catching on the pavement.

you’re standing just a few feet away, the door to your car open, looking back at him with a haze in your eyes. sadness, he thinks. could be pity, too.

his focus drifts to the passenger side door, noticing your hand wrapped around its handle. his eyes trail further, to the driver’s seat. he blinks, unsure if he’s seeing things. he isn’t. sitting in the driver’s seat of a tacky matte black audi is kim chanyeol. only then does he notice the other drink in your hand.

“oh, uh, sorry. i’ll, uh… i’ll see you around, y/n.” he swallows hard, the words rough and thick in his throat as he turns back toward waveon coffee.

he doesn’t look back at the sound of his name, though it’s the very thing he’s longed to hear ever since he’d convinced his managers to give him a week off during their busiest season, just so he could visit his hometown. he’s doing so well. his career is taking off, just like you said it would. you’d always wanted him to succeed, always believed he would. and now he’s made it. but at what cost, bub?

without thinking, he steps away from the cafe, barely remembering why he even came here. he didn’t want anything, not really. he’d only stopped by because when he visited your house, your mom said you weren’t home, and she wasn’t sure where you might be. he checked every one of your old favorite places in the city, wondering if they were still favorites at all. he had to try.

“jj, wait—” he doesn’t stop. he keeps walking down the busy busan footpath, not sure where he’s even going. there’s nowhere for him to go anymore; his family having moved to seoul as soon as he made it big. he paid for it, bought them a house, covered their travel expenses. he’d even offered the same for you, your family too. told you he’d do anything.

you never responded to those offers.

and he understands. he wouldn’t have responded, either. he’d promised he’d never truly leave you.

and then he did.

pov you read this back and realized that you didn’t take into account him being a world famous idol back in the hometown that literally treasures him above all else… so just imagine he gets jumped on by a crazy fan as he walks down the footpath or smth, he deserves it xx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Shiver

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: The snow may not be the only thing keeping you trapped.

Character: silverfox Bucky Barnes

Day Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity  

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Shit," Bucky plants his feet in the snow as you shiver against his back. 

The wind billows around you, his body breaking it but not shielding you completely. You shiver under the wool blanket and open hospital gown. Your quick escape didn't allow much time for a weather report. His treads crunch and sink deeper into the snow as the back tire kicks up powder and the front clogs with the thick sheet below. 

He growls and revs again, more in frustration than genuine effort. Your lip quivers and your teeth chatter. You look up as large cumulus flakes drift down, blotting out swathes of the sky. 

"Gonna have to ditch it," he grumbles and kicks down the stand. He hardly needs to as the wheels are so deep, the bike might stay up on its own. He kills the engine and the silence blows around you, whistling behind your ears. "God damn..." 

You rescind your arms, shaking as the cold seeps across your front, his warm fading quickly. You slide off the bike, your open rubber clog sinking into the snow, your exposed leg scalded by the bite of the cold. He climbs off and looks at you, a grimace lined in his forehead and cheeks. He shakes his head as he strips the saddle bags off the bike and puts them over his shoulder. 

The grey streaks in his hair are illuminated by the white landscape, and the patches in his beard look even thicker. The scar through his brow pales with his exasperation. He beckons to you as you continue to quake. He doesn't wait for you to obey. He steps closer and hooks his arm around you, his metal one coming up to scoop you off of the ground. As he lifts you, snow clumps off your shoes and back to the heaps. 

"Where--"

"Where are we? Where do we go? Two questions I don't got the answers too." He growls.  

You rub your hands together and blow into them. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with steel, his cheek twitching. He's forged in iron. He gives one-worded orders and grunts, so now that he's talking, you're concerned. Even more than you were before he showed up.  

"Sorry," you utter.  

He grunts. Right. He hikes you up so you fall against his chest. You welcome his warmth. He takes high steps away from the motorcycle. You watch it over his shoulder. You suppose it's replaceable.  

He continues on, slow, but steady. The snow falls at a similar pace. You can't help but nestle into him. You've heard of this man before. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. His nickname is more apt in that moment, though he doesn't welcome the irony.  

As he carries you, you feel his heart beat, and your own. He is a man underneath all the stories. An avenger. A hero. Your hero. Or just another captor. 

You turn to see ahead of him. He walks into the ivory void, the snow slanting and swirling all around. You squint as it catches in your lashes and you hug the blanket tighter. It's damp with snow and offers little against the onslaught.  

Hopelessness builds with the piles of snow all around. Still, he isn't daunted. Even as the sky darkens, even as you feel him tense with the burden of your weight. He just carries on. You know what that's like. To just keep going because there's no other option.  

A haven appears at last, though you don't immediately see it. You think he's gone mad when he kicks the wall of snow. Then it collapses inward into clumps. The mouth of a cave opens from behind the dusty shower.  

He steps through, out of the whining gales. You bend your fingers and wiggle your toes as they ache and throb. He takes you deep enough that the cold is not so virulent.  

He puts you down and wades through the darkness. You huddle in a ball as you listen to him. You can't tell he's right next to you until he grabs your leg then trails down to your foot. He takes it out of the clog and wraps it in fabric. You're not sure what exactly the cloth is but it's better than nothing.  

He does the same to your other foot before he moves away. Again, you hear him. His shadow blurs in and out of your sight until he turns on a flashlight. He props it in a nook in the wall so it casts across the space. You hug yourself and watch him. 

He surveys the interior of the cave as he grips his hips. He doesn't look impressed. He drops his bags on the ground and unbuckled the blanket roll from between them. He unfolds it with a pensive gaze. His eyes flick over it to you. He nears and throws it at you. You catch it thankfully, letting he wet one fall off your shoulders.  

He clicks free the clasp on his leather harness, undoing each strap until its slack. He slips it free then unzips his high-collared jacket. He removes that too and puts it with the bags. You stare at him in confusion.  

"Your clothes are wet," he pauses and glances over, "what little you got. Take em off. We gotta stay warm."  

"Huh?" You gurgle.  

"Or you can freeze. I got the serum to keep me warm," he shrugs as he peels off his undershirt.  

You don't hesitate again. You reach to the laces of the hospital gown just behind your neck. You've been poked, prodded, observed. You lost your modesty a long time ago. He doesn’t have any either. 

As you drag the fabric away from your body, he approaches. Naked, hairy, shameless. He takes the blanket and lowers himself next to you. He wraps you in his arms, bring the thick layer around both of you as he guides you down to cave floor. 

You cannot deny the heat of his body. You’re almost desperate for it. You quake against him as you snake your arms around him in turn and press your cheek to the top of his chest. Your legs tangle together as you entwine beneath the blanket, meshing together to keep the warmth within. 

His breath is calm where yours is shuddery. You cling to him and close your eyes. The lull takes over. There is only the distant wind, the soft fall of snow, and the beating of his heart. Or is it yours? 

You ease down into a senseless trance. You are not so much waiting for it to end as hanging on every second. You’re alive. You can stay alive. For the first time in maybe ever, you care about that. You’re not sure why. It might be nothing more than being away from that horrible place he took you from. 

His lips brush your hair and send a new kind of shiver through you. The gesture is odd as he inhales, breathing in your smell. His hand crawls up your back and down again. Your skin speckles with bumps. His movement is cautious but deliberate, as if he’s unsure if your awake or not. 

A low rumble rolls in his chest and escapes his throat. He splays his fingers wide and covers one side of your ass. He presses his palm to your firmly and curls his fingers. You whimper. What is he doing? 

Your bat your lashes as you open your eyes. His other hand comes up to still your head, trapping it against his chest. His hand hooks under the curve of your rear. He shoves between your thighs, keeping his knee between yours as he feels around. 

Your heart races in your ears. The whistling wind is replaced by a thundering drum. Your fear tempos as his determination guides his touch. 

He pokes along your entrance and dips his fingertips just inside. He wiggles them as you whine again and brace beneath his chest, a layer of soft flesh pillowed over hard muscles. No, it can’t be. You saw it on the screens. On the pages. He is a hero. He saves people. He doesn’t do this. 

He turns you onto your back and shifts his weight over you. You exhale as you look up at the stubble on his chin. You push until your nails crease in his flesh. He does not relent. 

He parts your legs with his. He slips free his fingers and unwinds his arm from behind you. You sniff as your eyes burn with disbelief and fear. 

“Please don’t,” you babble. 

He doesn’t listen. Or maybe he doesn’t hear you. His other hand creeps around and pushes your chin up. He frames your jaw tightly as he rocks and rubs his rigid length against your pelvis. He groans as you feel him twitching. 

He grips his dick and drags his tip down, tracing along the vee of your thigh and to your slit. He delves between your lips, rubbing up and down as you squirm in his grasp. Your hands are flat to his stomach as you push futilely. 

Your voice evaporates with all of your strength. You feel the paralysis that comes with knowing there’s nothing you can do. You lift your eyes to the dark caverns of the ceiling and stare into the abyss. 

He pokes along your entrance. You hiss as he presses against it, threatening to stretch you, even split you. He leans into you, slowly barging his way into you. Your body strains to take him as he lets out a long groan. Inch by inch he invades your body, conquering you as he keeps you pinned beneath the blanket. 

The grey ends of his hair tickle you as he sinks until you can take no more. Your tears wobble in the brims of your eyes and you blow out a willowy sob. He lowers his head to brush his prickly stubble against your cheek. His gritty breaths blaze over your ear and he growls as he tilts back. 

He pumps into you as you quaver out stunted cries. He rears back with long, slow strokes, only to slam back in quickly, holding himself deep before retreating again. You no longer feel the cold or the warmth, just his violation. 

“W-w-w-w...” you rasp quietly under your tortured breath. The noise of flesh, wet and dry, meeting and parting echoes in the cave. “Why...” 

He thrusts into you again. He keeps himself buried at the point of agony. You snivel and free a hand to mop your face. He lifts his head and hushes you as he shoves your arm away, caressing your splotchy cheeks with his thick thumb. 

“You didn’t think I was saving you, did you?” He nuzzles your forehead as he snarls. “Doll, they made you for me to claim.” 

You squeak and latch onto his wrist. Squeezing as he snaps his hip, jolting your entire body. Your pain swells with panic. You don’t understand what he means. If he didn’t save you, why did he kill all those people? 

“Yielding, used,” you flinch as your temples tingle with the timbre of his voice. “Vessel, dusklight,” he continues reciting the disjointed words. Your eyes feel loose as if they might roll out, “forty-five, wilting.” You ears ring and you shake your head, digging your nails into his forearm, “one, belonging,” he ruts into you harder with each word, “together,” your skin crawls as your insides burn, “surrender.”  

With his last word, your body goes limp. You can’t move but you can feel. You can feel it all. He pushes his hand around your head and cradles it as he bows his head to nuzzle your neck. His breath dampens your skin with each desperate burrowing into your core. 

“They programmed you for me, doll,” he puffs into the crook of your shoulder. “They put a switch in you...” he groans and tenses as his other hand stretches beneath you to raise your ass, opening you even more to him. “That only I can flip.” 

You don’t even have the power to cry. You can only lay there and stare and suffer. If he isn’t going to save you, no one else is. 

[tpwk-formula1]

hi! I have a request for your pizzeria (hope it's not too big I couldn't make up my mind). So, I'd like my pizza served by Sebastian Vettel and the order is: deep dish with red sauce and for toppings onions, cilantro, parmesan cheese, gouda cheese and prosciuto. My drink of choice is vodka redbull and I'd love some dessert. I love your fics btw and no pressure to write this ���

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

deep dish teammates to lovers red sauce rough sex onion "I saw you being a little slut" cilantro "Stop crying and fucking take it" parmesan cheese "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" gouda cheese “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” prosciutto "I love making this pretty pussy squirt" vodka redbull squirting dessert yes served by Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian x AM teammate! reader

TW - AGE GAP, squirting, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, doggy position, 18+

WC 1100+

AN: I was so excited to receive this request! I love and am so thankful for each request I receive but when I saw this one... pussy=throbbing :) sorry if that was tmi but I just had to say I was HAPPY to see the pure rough and desperate side of Seb! Anyway hope y'all love it as much as I loved writing this!

Y/N POV

"What are you doing," I hiss to Sebastian as he continues to drag me through the busy club.

"I saw you being a little slut. You didn't think I wouldn't notice you talking to the papaya boy?" Seb says clearly referring to me talking to Lando.

"Are you fucking serious," I snap while yanking my arm away from Seb's tight grip making him turn to face me making sure we were standing face to face.

"You're telling me you're worried about the fucking McLaren driver?" I question him clearly getting just as pissed as Sebastian.

"I wasn't the one who was all up on him. Rubbing his arms telling 'oh Lando you're time will come!' Like stop stroking the kid's fucking ego just so you can stroke his cock," Seb snapped back grabbing my arm again and leading us out of the club. I knew we had made a scene and I knew we would have some awkward questions to answer for the media at the next race but for now, I let Seb drive us back to the hotel.

"You're ridiculous you know that," I tell Seb when I feel his grip tighten on my thigh.

"I'm ridiculous? You're the one who was riding my cock this morning tell me how I do it better than anyone and then night comes you're warming up to Lando, for what? So you can go back with him? You think he can fuck you even half as good as me," Seb says clearly getting more mad the more he talks because the grip on my thigh keeps getting tighter before he snaps and sends a hard slap down making me whimper and jump slightly.

"I wasn't gonna go back with him," I told Sebastian sheepishly knowing it didn't matter what I said to him right now.

"When we get inside my room I want you to strip down into nothing, and lay on the bed," Seb tells me just before we pull up to the valet where he gives them his keys and grabs the little ticket before he takes us up to his room.

I waste no time in stripping down into nothing before climbing into the middle of the bed and getting as comfortable as possible. When Seb finally came into the bedroom part of his hotel room he was in nothing but his briefs clearly having striped in the little living room.

"Spread your legs," Seb tells me roughly making me part my thighs and wait for Seb's next move. When he climbs into bed he pulls me in for a rough kiss while also running his fingers through my soaked fold making me gasp into his mouth.

"You love being treated like a whore, you're fucking soaked," Seb groans against my lips making me whimper.

"Or is this all for Lando? Did Lando flash his flirty little smile and make your knees weak?" Seb questions clearly getting angry at his own words because he starts speeding up his fingers and applying hard pressure making me whimper.

"No sir! All for you Seb," I whimper out. I feel Seb slip a few fingers into my pussy making me whine at the rough attack on my pussy.

"You're gonna fucking cum all over my fingers," Seb says while roughly rubbing my clit and making sure to keep the pace up.

"Seb!" I scream when I feel my orgasm hit making me start cumming all over the place. My pleasure was squirting all over the place soaking the bed.

"I love making this pretty pussy squirt," Seb says while still fucking into my pussy with his fingers making me cry out in overstimulation.

"Stop crying and fucking take it," Seb says making it clear that I was gonna cum again for him.

"Too much," I cry again trying to pull my hips away from the brutal attack but Seb is having none of it because he roughly grips my hips to hold me still while still fucking his finger bringing me over the edge into another squirting orgasm making me scream out again.

"Fuck, you love to soak my bed," Seb says while pulling his fingers out finally but he quickly shoves them into my mouth and makes me clean them with my tongue.

Seb roughly flips me onto my stomach and pulls me onto my hands and knees before he starts slapping my ass turning me into a whimpering mess under him.

"Seb! Hurts," I cry out while trying to pull away from his rough hands but he just holds me in place and continues to spank my ass red.

"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Seb roughly tells me before sending another rain of spanks down on my ass making sure I will feel it tomorrow.

"Fuck, I love to watch this ass grow red," Seb groans while he continues to spank me.

"Too much," I whimper out through a strangled breath. Finally, Seb stops spanking me but I can tell he's yanking his briefs down before roughly shoving his cock into my pussy.

"Fuck," I gasp when Seb is fully seated in my pussy making the stretch all the more overwhelming.

When Seb starts rocking his hips I'm already a moaning mess in the palm of his hands making him speed his thrusts up just slightly.

"More, please," I beg making Seb's thrust speed up. "Fuck" I moan loudly while pushing my hips back trying to gain more pleasure.

Seb's pace picks up even more making me scream out from how hard he was fucking into me.

"Too much Sebastian! Slow down," I shout to Seb when he keeps letting his thrusts get harder and more rough.

“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Seb says roughly while sending another slap on my ass.

"I'm cumming," I scream when I feel my orgasm hit without any warning making me clench around Seb's cock making him speed up his thrusts before he starts cumming deep into my pussy and filling me up with his hot cum.

"Fuck!" I moan out as I start coming down from my orgasm.

"Fuck, you always take me so well," Seb tells me while pulling me down to his chest so I can relax in his embrace.

"Well, I have zero interest in Lando, I will go on a date with him if you fuck me like this after," I tell Seb making him groan and pinch my hip roughly.

"Still can't believe you're threatened by a 22 year old," I tease making Seb laugh lightly.

"You do realize you are also a 22 year old so there's a reason I get threatened. I'm retiring this year and you're a rookie," Seb points out making me shrug.

"Just means you get to be my wag next year," I joke making Seb laugh but nod his head.

"You're mine. I don't want anyone else," I tell Seb softly making me smile and pull me in a bit tighter.

[aliwritex]

franco thoughts pt2: the day after 18+

an: this is very short but it’s sweet.

It turned out that you shouldn’t’ve gone full out on your first time and you should’ve stopped when he suggested. You woke up in his bed feeling like shit, like if a truck had ran over you, everything hurt and you felt sick so you asked him to drive you home.

“Are you sure you wanna be alone?”

“I am, Franco, thanks for driving me home, and thanks for last night”

“I’m sorry, for this. I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“Franco, it’s alright, it’s not your fault” you rested your palm of his cheek, caressing it and kissing him quickly. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded against your hand “take care, call me if you need anything”

As soon as he left you took a couple pills for the pain and went back to bed. It was almost night when you finally texted him.

hey

wanna come over to talk? i made cookies

he answered almost immediately

finally

was starting to think you hated me

“I’m sorry if i did anything wrong, or if i hurt you or anything” he told you as you settled on your couch.

“Franco, I told you this isn’t your fault. I just wasn’t feeling well”

“It was because of me though”

“Well, technically yes but there’s nothing you could’ve done differently. I’m fine now”

“I’m glad you are” he pecked your lips.

After finishing the cookies you had Franco laying on top of you, his head on your chest and legs tangled in yours. Little Women (2019) playing on your tv – even after you told him he could pick something else – while you played with his hair.

You took his face in your hands, looking at him for a second and making him blush as he looked back at you with his ‘fuck me’ eyes. You pecked his lips multiple times, making him smile. He kissed you, slow and deep, hands holding on to your hips. Your legs shifted under the blanket, wrapping around his hips as you kissed him back. His hands running under your top to hold your waist as yours run through his curls.

You felt goosebumps all over your body, even in your warm apartment. Franco kicked off the blanket that covered you, letting it fall to the floor so he could pull you on top of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he whispered when you sat up on his lap, straddling him.

His fingers buried themselves in your hair, the touch to your neck making you shiver as he pulled you down to kiss him again. You didn’t want to lead him on or for him to think that you were ready for it so soon after all you went through that morning but, his lips were making all your thoughts slip away from you.

He started kissing down your jaw and neck, just like he had done the night before as you slipped your hands under his shirt, feeling the hairs leading to the waistband of his sweats. You started to move your hips against his making his lips leave your neck to let out a silent moan. His hands dropped to your hips again, guiding you to move more smoothly. You took his lips back to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth entirely. Little moans started leaving both of your lips as he got harder and you got wetter.

“Amor” he whispered, “Amor, fuck. Stop”

You let go of him and sat back up, hand holding his face.

“Are you sure you wanna do this again?” franco asked, looking up at you.

“I- can we just do this?”

“You wanna get off on my thigh?” he teased

“So bad” you pulled him into a kiss as he sat up on the sofa to give you a better position.

“Wanna get these off for me?” he tapped your thigh, referring to your shorts.

You nodded and slid off his lap, standing up to pull them down as he took off his hoodie.

“Fuck,” he sighed “are you real? do you fucking wear these every day or is it just for me?”

“What?” you asked as he sat you down on one of his thighs.

“The pretty panties” he whispered, snapping the side of the undergarment against your skin.

“They’re just regular panties, Franco” You pecked him on the lips, running your hands through his hair to brush it back.

“Good to know” he mumbled against your neck, pulling you close to him by the waist.

His hands climbed up your body, cupping your tits between his thumb and index finger, forcing them to plush up together and taking a nipple into his mouth. His tongue wet your thin shirt, making it cling to your hard nipples as he sucked on it, your hands holding his head close to your chest.

Your hips shifted on his thigh, reminding him to drop his hands down to guide you back and forth onto him.

Franco pulled back to watch when a moan left your lips, his gaze catching how your tits bounced ever so slightly at your movement. You dropped your hand from his head, running it over his crotch, a hand of his immediately covered yours, as if to stop you.

“Don’t need to do this”

“But i want to”

“Save it for later, yeah? let’s focus on you now” he guided your hand up to his face, kissing your thumb when it brushed his lips.

He kissed your neck again, this time making sure to leave a mark right on the side as he resumed his guiding touch on your hips.

You let moans run loose out of your mouth, savoring the feeling the friction was providing you.

You kept up your hip movements, thighs already burning from it, but it was worth the effort. Franco slid his hand between your legs and toyed your underwear before tugging the waistband, making it slip between your lips, the friction getting more concentrated on your clit.

“Fuck, Franco, can’t- need more.”

He moved from beneath you, laying you back down on the sofa and positioning between your legs. His hips bucked against yours, grinding his clothed cock to your cunt. Your own hips moved up involuntarily, meeting his in the thrusts, his hands on your bare ass and kisses on your neck making it all too good.

“Fran, fuck, so close” you whined.

“Let go, amor, come for me”

And you did, your legs trapping his hips against yours again as they shook and you groaned into his neck. All your trembling made Franco come too, his cum damping his sweats, some spilling on your stomach. He buried his face on the crook of your neck as you hugged him close, chuckling into his hair.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled, “can’t believe you made me cream my pants like a fucking thirteen year old”

“It’s okay, Franco,” you giggled, “it’s hot” you ran your hands up and down his back.

“It’s so not and i didn’t mean to” he mumbled, almost in a whine.

“It is very hot that I made you cum in your pants without even touching you” you said into his hair.

“Please don’t tell anyone” he sighed, half chuckling.

“Shit, I was about to get up to tell my neighbor”

“You’re not funny” he bit your shoulder.

[luveline]

hi jadey!! can i request something with steve? maybe where reader used to be in a relationship where the other person made her to do all the work ( put in the groceries, clean the house, etc.) and one day steve is taking care of some of the chores and reader freaks out cause she’s the one supposed to be doing it?? it’s just an idea, no pressure lovely! hope you’re having a good day 🫶🫶

ty gorgeous! fem!reader

Steve hums when he's busy. No pretentiousness, no shame, he sings lyrics, guitar, and occasionally drums, too. You can hear him in the kitchen singing that Van Halen song he loves, his voice twisted tight as he tries to hit a high note. 

"Are you making a sandwich?" you ask hopefully, hanging your coat on the hook as you trudge in from the front door. 

You're in the kitchen before Steve's collected the wits to answer you. Your jaw falls open. 

"Hey, babe," he says. It's difficult to tell if the pet name is joking or serious, Steve in his pyjamas with his sleeves rolled up, his lips quirked into a funny smile as though he's pleased to see you but confused at the same time. "No? Did you want one?" 

"What are you doing?"

Steve holds his games up in surrender, a cloth held in the left. "I'm wiping down the counters?" 

"Why?" 

"I do this every Friday before you get home." 

"What?" 

Steve takes the cloth to the sink to rinse it out. Bleach bubbles squeeze from the fabric. "Am I doing it wrong? This is how I always do it. Wipe the counters, vacuum, mop. Why are you back so early?" 

"Steve, you don't have to clean. I… that's my job." 

"Then what's mine?" he asks, turning off the faucet and dropping the wet cloth at the bottom of the basin. He wipes his hands dry with a hand towel, ushering your forward with a gesture of his index finger. "Come here…" He wraps his arms around you. "All you do lately is work." Steve kisses your cheek three quick times. "Miss you."

You blink a little, overwhelmed, still worried. "Do I not do it right? It's okay if I don't, I can–" 

"Do what? The counters? No. I just figured it's my turn before the weekend starts and you go on your cleaning frenzy. Which isn't your job, by the way. I don't know why you think that." 

He's light-hearted, but your silence spurns him into a more serious tone. Taking your face into one still-damp palm, he narrows his eyes until they're more brown than anything else and says, "Do you really think it's your job?"

"I'm the girl." 

"And I'm so stoked about that, but…" He smiles, pulling your cheek with his thumb to encourage the same. "That's not right. Do you even like cleaning?" 

"I don't have to like it, it's housework." 

Steve can't seem to decide whether this is serious or not. He goes from smiling to frowning to impassive, his fingers rubbing a slovenly path down your cheek. Strands of hair like lace drift into his eyes as he ducks his head, his gaze on your chest. "It's housework for the house we both live in. I know you've been doing more of it since we moved in, and I'm really sorry. I'm lazier than you. I should've asked you about it, but now I've let you do more and you think you need to do all of it. I'm a dick." 

"No, you're not." 

"I'm a total dick. You think you have to clean up after me?" He brings you in for another hug. "Holy fuck, baby. I'm a grown up." 

You bristle at first, but relax the longer he holds you, his words sinking in steady. He's not criticising you; Steve is apologising and self-deprecating. You slide your arms behind his back and breathe in his smell, all things boy but with the sharp smell of bleach lingering. 

"I did it myself. You know, before. So that's why it feels like it's mine to do. Not your fault," you say into his chest. 

Steve pulls away. "Thanks, but I'm a huge dick no matter what." 

He marches you backwards and forces you back into one of the chairs at the dining table. You grab at his arms as he attempts to walk away, lifting your chin to kiss him. It distracts him for a while, the soft, slow press of his lips against yours, your hand in his hair scratching tenderly, but he can't be kept forever. Steve ends your kissing with a peck and beelines for the fridge.

"What are you doing?" you ask. 

"Making you a sandwich. Dinner and a show tonight, did I forget to tell you? You can eat the best BLT in the western hemisphere and I'm gonna vacuum the crumbs from under the toaster. Perfect Friday night, right?" 

[ellecdc]

Mother..... im so sorry 😭😭 but i swear this ones fun!!

What about another part to poly!moonwater where theres a party but Reg and Rem are running late.

Reg: * anxious and fidgety*

Rem: you know we dont have to go

Reg: no no no we most definetly do, anyway its not that. You havent seen y/n in this environmemt before have you?? She thrives in this kind of environment.

Rem: cant be that bad.....

Reg: 😶 think of Potter, Barty amd my brother in one person.

Rem: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🥲

So when they get there reader is dancing on tables with Barty and Siri. Just the kind of person who lets go in that kinda vibe, doesnt even have to drink, its just the atmosphere that causes her personality to do a whole 180°. The kinda person you habe to but an airtag on so you dont loose them

I love it I love it I love it I love it

poly!moonwater x fem!reader

CW: mention of drinking, drunkenness and alcohol. Friends looking after their drunk friends. Friends bullying their other drunk friends (lovingly)

Remus was thankful that tonight’s Hogwarts party wasn’t being hosted in Gryffindor tower. Not only did James and Sirius get far too invested before, during, and afterwards, but it was also just harder to enjoy on account of watching what was basically your living room be trashed by a bunch of drunks. 

But tonight, he was going to be able to enjoy a nice time with his friends without any of the responsibility of having to clean up after said friends. 

And better yet, he was going to enjoy a nice time with you and Regulus; the first party the three of you would attend together as partners.

You had been very excited for tonight and had volunteered to help set up, whilst Remus opted to wait for Regulus who had quidditch practice before hand. 

And Remus was currently very happy with his choice as he got to watch Regulus change out of his quidditch gear and into his party attire.

“Would you quit ogling me, you fiend.” Regulus muttered as be buttoned the cufflinks into his dress shirt. Remus would have made fun of him for dressing so formally to a dorm party if he didn’t look so bloody good.

“Nope.” He said, popping the P.

Regulus rolled his eyes, but Remus could see a small smirk playing on his lips.

Regulus let out a steadying breath and turned to Remus. “Are you ready?”

Remus smiled before puckering his lips instead of answering. Regulus looked like he thought he should be annoyed, but ultimately gave in and pressed a kiss to the werewolf’s lips, hovering slightly above him as Remus sat reclined onto his elbows on Regulus’ bed.

Regulus pulled away all too quickly for Remus’ liking and began fussing in front of the mirror again, clearly anxious.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, sitting up properly.

Regulus sighed but nodded in the affirmative.

“We don’t have to go, you know.” Remus tried, mistaking the boy’s nerves for being reclusive.  

Regulus kind of snorted at that and looked at Remus with a raised eyebrow. “No, we should go. In fact, we ought to go...like, now.”

Remus felt his brows furrow as Regulus headed towards the door, getting up and following him out obediently.

“This isn’t one of those ‘if we go sooner, we can leave sooner’ tactics, is it? Because with James and Sirius, I promise you that won’t work.”

Regulus laughed. “No, though I’d like to point out I am not afraid of those sods.”

“Well, who are you afraid of that has you sprinting to Ravenclaw tower right now?” Remus asked, causing Regulus to grimace a little guiltily as he slowed his stride for the lycanthrope. 

“Sorry... I guess you haven’t seen Y/N at one of these?” Regulus asked.

Remus realized then that your paths had never really crossed until this year, being a year below him and hanging out with a different crowd. “No, I guess not. Why?” 

Regulus laughed. “Oh gods. You’ll see.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad.” Remus said with a scoff. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and smirked. “If I had one way to describe Y/N at a party, it would be a combination of Potter after a quidditch win, Sirius after four shots of firewhiskey and Barty.”

Remus’ steps faltered as he put the pieces together in his head. Regulus paused as well, making eye contact with him before understanding seemed to cross between them, and they both took off in a sprint towards the Ravenclaw tower. 

As they rounded the last spiral of the staircase, they stepped past the silencing spell that had been placed around it and could feel the vibrations from the music booming in the room. 

A third year Ravenclaw who had been paid for their service in Honeydukes chocolates answered the riddle to allow entrance to Regulus and Remus, and the sight took Remus’ breath away. 

You can dance! You can ji-ive.

You were standing dancing on the mantle of a grand fireplace with Sirius on one side of you and one of the Prewett twins on the other.

Having the time of your lives. Oooooh.

James looked like he’d been trying all evening to get up on that mantle with you guys, but in his inebriated state, Lily was easily preventing him from doing so.  

See that girl!

Both Sirius and... Fabian (if Remus guessed correctly) knelt to dramatically point at you who quickly struck a cheeky pose, earning the three of you cheers (but Remus was sure most of the applause was on your account).

Watch that scene!

Sirius pretended to play a riff on a guitar and Fabian did a scary looking spin from his place on the mantle whilst you opted to shimmy your shoulders in time with the music. 

Digging the dancing queen!

And to Remus’ absolutely horror, Fabian launched himself off of the mantle, seemingly making his mark by landing on the couch but apparently, he hadn’t taken into account the springs in the sofa which promptly launched him back off of the couch and had him landing on the wooden coffee table, causing it to splinter and break underneath him. 

Sirius looked like he was going to either fall off the mantle or piss his pants from laughing too hard, clutching your arm as you laughed along with him. 

Over Remus’ dead body would Sirius fall off a fireplace mantle and take you down with him.

He bodily moved through the crowd and stepped over Fabian without a second thought to stand below you (and Sirius, technically). Remus’ heart rate skyrocketed even more standing here below you, seeing as he was about 192cm (~6’3) and the mantle stood basically at his eyebrows.

He wanted to chide you, but your face cleared beautifully once you recognized who was standing below you.

“Remmy!” You cried as Sirius cheered “Moony!”

“I know I call you ‘dove’ baby girl, but that doesn’t mean you can fly!” He called up to you, any reprimand likely belittled by the beaming smile he was shooting at you. 

He held his hands up to you, and you quickly abandoned Sirius’ arms in exchange for his. With his hands under your armpits he gently lowered you back down to your proper height (which Remus much preferred). 

“Hi Rem!” You cheered at him. “I missed you.”

Your words were clear and loud if a little slurred. 

“I missed you!” Remus replied with a smile as Regulus quickly added “how many drinks have you had?” from his place behind him, apparently having made sure his ‘idiot brother didn’t break anything on his trip off the mantle’. Remus had sort of forgotten Sirius was there at all, to be honest. 

You seemed a little worried at Regulus’ question before he quickly added “I need to know how many I need to catch up to you, mon chéri.”

“Nice save.” Remus muttered to him.

“Uhm, maybe four?” You offered.

“Got it, think you can handle a refill?” He asked, placing a kiss to your temple. Remus wanted to eat the two of you up, you were just so cute.

“I’m on water for a bit!” You cheered back at him.

“So smart, dovey. Nice call.” Remus praised you. You beamed back at him in response. 

“S’not fair!” James shouting interrupted your chat.

“I’ll go get you a drink too, okay?” Regulus whispered into Remus’ ear before quickly taking off, clearly not interested in the whining of an inebriated James Potter.

“M’not ‘llowed to dance on th’mantle, m’not allowed to-to play with the play with the suit’s o’armours. Why’d I even come.” James cried miserably between hiccups.

“James, you cannot sword fight with the suits of armours, you will lose. When you lose a sword fight, you die.” Lily reprimanded, clearly at her wits end with her boyfriend.

“Awe, tough hand mate. Hey! Can I challenge you to a chugging contest?” Remus said, clapping James on the back.

James seemed to brighten up at that as Lily quickly scowled at him. Remus offered the redhead a wink as he plucked your cup of water out of your hands and handed it to James.

“’kay, but no cheating!” James called to Remus. Remus figured James was too drunk to realize one couldn’t really cheat at a chugging contest, but Remus didn’t plan on winning anyway.

Regulus had returned at the perfect time for Remus to take a drink and bring it to his lips. James, in his enthusiasm ended up wearing most of the water, but claimed he won after downing the rest of it.

“No way James, I want a rematch!” Remus called, grabbing the new cup of water Regulus had brought over for you - quickly promising to make it up to you - and handing it off to James.

The group ended up being able to keep James entertained by challenging him to ‘chugging contests’ whilst handing him cups of water until he had to pee. 

Remus got to watch you flit around the party, dancing to your hearts content (though, he did make sure to discourage you from anymore high surface areas. When he couldn’t, he made sure to spot you from below), and even convincing Regulus to ball dance with you, even though it was to the likes of Jackson 5. Though you quickly abandoned him for Sirius when Play That Funky Music came on.

Remus was sat in a large cushioned chair with Regulus in his lap as they watched you, clearly in your element. 

“Gods, she’s fun.” Remus whispered to his boyfriend. Regulus breathed out a chuckle and leaned further into Remus.

“She is. She can be trouble sometimes though. Probably good that Barty’s nowhere to be found.”

Regulus’ voice trailed off confusedly at the end.

“What is it?” Remus asked, but you came barrelling over to them, slightly sweaty and breathless from your dancing.

“Hi.” You breathed excitedly, falling to your knees in front of them.

“Hi dovey! Having fun?” Remus asked, bringing his hand not currently holding his drink and wrapped around Regulus’ waist to caress your face. His heart squeezed as your eyes closed and you leaned into the touch. “S’much fun.”

“Amour, where is Barty?” Regulus asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed momentarily before a cheeky smile crossed your face as you remembered.

“Oh, he’s...hanging around.” You offered vaguely. 

“Should I be worried?” Regulus asked cautiously, earning him a snort from Lily as she hauled a nearly sleeping James over to the couch beside them.

“The sod was swinging from the chandelier and got stuck. None of us bothered trying to get him down – he’s fast asleep.” She explained, gesturing to the ceiling with a nod of her head.

Sure enough, nearly right above them, Barty was passed out cold as if he were simply swinging in a hammock. 

“Hm...” Regulus deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at you. “Amour, did someone bet Barty that he couldn’t manage to get to the chandelier?” 

“No.” You answered quickly, defiantly. Regulus continued staring impassively at you until you sighed. “I bet him he couldn’t get down from the chandelier.” 

“And she was right.” Lily added, giving you a fist bump.

Regulus let out a long suffering sigh, causing Remus to chuckled and rub his side placatingly. 

“Fair enough, sweets.” He conceded.

“Easy for you to say.” Regulus muttered. “You aren’t responsible for getting him down.”

“Just leave him up there.” Sirius commented; he wasn’t quite as drunk as Remus expected him to be, but his movements were still sloppy as he moved to sit on the floor beside you. “That’s apparently what friends do.” He said pointedly, glaring at Remus and sticking his tongue out at him.

“I had more important priorities.” He said, winking down at you.

“Are-are you s,saying that Y/N’s more impo- important than your mate, Rmussss?” James said – barely – through hiccups.

“Certainly prettier priorities.” Regulus commented.

“Oi!” Sirius shouted far louder than necessary. “You take that back!” 

“I’ll do no such thing.” Regulus responded casually. 

Sirius went to stand from his place, no doubt to try to roughhouse his brother. 

“It’s okay Sirius. I think you’re very pretty. Next time, you can be the dancing queen.” You placated. Sirius turned to look at you like you hung the moon.

“Really?!” He cried. You nodded, causing the sod to launch himself, tackling you in a hug and causing the two of you to fall over.

“Oi! Don’t crush my darlin’ girl, Pads!” Remus called at the same time as Regulus spat “if she has so much as one fucking bruise Sirius, I swear to Salazar...”

“Do forgive him,” Lily commented, “he was just informed he could be the next dancing queen.”

“Why mess with perfection? I happen to think Y/N was a wonderful dancing queen!” Marlene called from somewhere behind Remus.

“I MISSED DANCING QUEEN!?” Barty screeched from his aerial prison above them.

Regulus let out another long-suffering sigh as he stood, lifted you up out of Sirius’ grasp and placed you in his vacated spot on Remus’ lap. “I’ll go get my broom to get him down...”

“How’d you manage to win that bet, dove?” Remus whispered as Regulus disappeared through the door, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck.

“Sticking charm.”

Remus chuckled and felt the breaths leaving his nose bounce off your skin and back into his face. 

“My cheeky little minx.”

[hairmetal666]

By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 6

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 7 (SMUT)

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Romance)

Description: Cooper and Reader feel the effects of the radiation.

Notes: My tags are still goofy I don't know what is going on I am sorry. When I am writing the post your profile comes up and I click on it but then when I post it it doesn't work? Help? You guys may have to just keep an eye on my posts. :(

Cooper still hasn't told us where he is taking us yet. The sun seemed to get extra hot as the day went on. I knew the irradiation of the river was starting to hit me, just like it was the vaultie. We both had sunken, dark eyes and pale skin. Radiation sickness was starting to set in. Cooper made sure I stayed close to him, his eyes only leaving me to bark at the vaultie when she slowed.

"This damn sun," I whined.

Without saying a word, Cooper took off his hat and dropped it on my head. I smiled ear to ear, the idea of wearing his hat filling me with joy. "Thanks, Coop." 

His footsteps stuttered at the nickname. Little did I know, it brought back a flood of memories that were long forgotten. "Just don't lose it, darlin'." He mumbled.

The show of affection filled me with a burst of energy, adding some pep to my step as we trekked along in the sand. Eventually, we happened upon a small, derelict town. The old homes were covered almost half up their sides with sand. The houses now were all the same tan color as the ground, a reminder of the harshness of the wastelands. We walked up to a building with "Westside Medical Clinic" written on a big sign out front. As soon as we stopped walking we heard it. The yelling.

"Roger! My name... is Roger!" A voice roared from inside the building. 

The three of us exchanged looks before Cooper pushed the vaultie towards the door, making her go first. "Stay behind me, sugar." He said quietly to me. 

We slowly continued into the building as the snarling grew closer. The vaultie hesitated, not wanting to get any closer to the danger inside. This caused Cooper to give her another harsh shove. The fear swirling in my stomach made me feel like I was going to throw up. I grabbed onto the back of Cooper's coat for purchase. We finally made our way into the room where the voice was coming from. A man, or a ghoul, was sitting in the sand, mumbling and snarling. 

"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.

"Hey. Hey." the man laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"

"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.

You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around. 

"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.

"How you feelin’?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Oh... you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got some smoothies of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie and me in the corner. "That one is cute with your hat on."

I give him a small smile as a blush warms my cheeks. "You like it? I'm thinking of keeping it." I say, trying to lighten the mood. 

Roger lets out a gleeful laugh, "Oh, I hope she rubs off on you. Keep her around."

Cooper smiles in response, "Plan on it."

Roger cried out again, ripping the smiles off everyone's faces.

"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, he exchanges a worried look with you.

"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.

"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking sorrowful.

"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and your smooth-faced friends, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."

Roger started to snarl again, he was growing louder and louder. It was horrible to watch. "Is this what will happen to Cooper?" I thought to myself.

"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you are though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started wastelanding?"

"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.

"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.

"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"

"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.

"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.

"Hot damn! Apple Pie." Roger said, joy lighting up his face, even making the vaultie smile. "You know my mother used to-"

Before he could finish, Cooper shot Roger threw the head with no warning. I stumbled back in shock, tripping and falling on my butt and landing in the sand. 

"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked with tears in her eyes. "He was sick."

Cooper ignores her and starts making his way toward me while he holsters his gun. My eyes were glued to the man, lifeless on the ground. 

"Darlin'." Cooper says pulling me from my thoughts and he crouches in front of me. 

I look up at him with weeping eyes. "He...." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I whispered as the tears started to fall down to my chest. 

"Don't be sorry, darlin'. Can you do something for me?" He asked calmly.

"Yeah." I managed to respond between sniffles. 

"Wait in the hallway." He replies, rubbing my shoulder reassuringly. I give him a confused look before he starts talking again, "I don't want you to see this."

Realization washes over me. "You gonna eat him?" 

"Just - just wait in the hallway." He says as he pulls me up to my feet. "Okay?"

"Okay," I mumble as I slowly make my way out of the room. I lean up against the wall and close my eyes. It's only a minute before I hear the vaultie begging.

"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."

"What'd you say your name was?" Cooper asks her.

"Lucy MacLean." The vaultie replies hesitantly. 

"MacLean?" Cooper asks a hint of recognition in his voice. "Huh. Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella gotta eat another fella." 

Even from the hallway, I could hear the squishing from whatever he was doing in there. I felt nausea settle into my stomach, whether from the radiation or what Cooper was doing in the other room, I didn't know.

"You know, my vault has endured hardship too," Lucy said, pushing back. In the great plague of '77, everyone had to quarantine, they couldn't work the farms together, people starved. My mother included. My dad dropped to 128 pounds, and he still refused to do anything like this."

Cooper let out a deep chuckle at her words.

"What? What's so funny?" She asked, her voice dripping with venom.

"Well, there's what people say they did and what they really did." Cooper said, his accusation heavy in the air. "I'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. I bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbor's ass on there."

"How do you live like this?" Lucy asks. "You obviously know it's wrong you sent her to the other room. So how do you do it? Why keep going?"

I open my eyes slowly at the mention of me. I didn't know if I could ever live like that, so Lucy's question piqued my interest as well. There was a heavy silence as I heard Cooper's footsteps making his way across the room.

"Well, one good question deserves another," Cooper responds, his voice was dark, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why the fuck am I doin' all the work? Now come on vaultie, ass jerky don't make itself."

This was a side of Cooper that I had not seen since the night we met. Ruthless. Cruel. It made me wonder was this who he really was. Or was the sweetness he has shown me his true self? It was probably a little bit of both. The silence in the building was deafening. It was a moment before I heard Lucy's soft footsteps in the sand. 

"She is actually gonna do it." I thought to myself in horror, letting out a soft gasp. 

Once they made their way out of the room, Lucy's hands were covered in blood and she had an empty expression on her face. She was clearly traumatized by what she had to do to Roger. Cooper didn't look at me as they made their way past. "Come on, darlin'."

-

It felt like forever since the incident with Roger, but it was hard to forget as his skin hung from Cooper's pack. The three of us hiked in silence, tension had returned to Cooper and me as neither of us knew what to say to the other. Cooper had started coughing some time ago. This filled me with dread, we needed to get him some Jet fast. Let alone, myself. I was getting sicker by the minute as I struggled with the poisoning from the river. My feet dragged in the sand behind Cooper as I struggled to keep up. 

Cooper dipped his canteen into some water pooled in an old barrel. My chest filled with jealousy. I ran out of water some time ago and the lack of food and water was becoming painful. He made eye contact with Lucy as she watched him drink. This wasn't the first time he had teased her about her lack of water. Desperate for a sip, she fell to her knees in front of the water, scooping it into her mouth. 

"Now you're gettin' it." Cooper mused as he watched her. "How does that golden rule jibe with what's goin' through your head right now?" 

"What are you?" Lucy asked angrily.

"Oh I'm you, sweetie, just give it a little time." He responded.

"Because of the radiation poisoning?" I asked, my voice cracking from dehydration.

Cooper turned to me with a serious look on his face, "Not gonna happen to you darlin'."

I gave him a small nod before I squeaked out, "Okay." I trusted him completely. 

As a coughing fit took over the ghoul, Lucy took her chance to make a run for it. I was torn between chasing after her and staying to comfort Cooper. Cooper started waving after her, signaling for me to chase her.

"Hey! Stop!" I yelled as I ran after her.

As we rounded the corner, she stopped to stare at the huge crater in the ground. I ran up next to her as I also marveled at the sight. I had never seen anything like that before. Suddenly, Cooper's lasso secured itself around Lucy's midsection as he pulled her down onto the ground.

"Where you think you're goin'? You ain't goin' nowhere." Cooper said as he stepped over her, leaning down to grab her face.

Lucy immediately responded by biting onto his finger and ripping it off with her teeth.

"Oh my god?!" I gasped out as I ran toward them. "Cooper."

He continued to keep his attention on Lucy. "There you are, you little killer." He said as he lifted her to her feet before grabbing ahold of her matching finger and cutting it off with his knife. "Now that right there is the closest thing to an honest exchange that we've had so far." He pocketed her finger before reaching down to pick up his own. "Here darlin'," He said as he handed me the rope that was tied to Lucy. 

I hesitantly took it as I watched him rummage around in his pack for a small rag to wrap his finger in. 

"You don't hurt, right?" I asked him.

"Don't feel a thing, sugar." He said smiling as he took the rope back from me. 

This exchange seemed to have depleted Lucy's resolve completely as she quietly obeyed from there on out. It wasn't long after that that we reached an old building with the word SuperDuperMart written on it. It was surrounded by a broken-down fence and had some old cars in the front of the building. I was nervous, but Cooper's confidence calmed me as we approached the building.

"Transaction," Cooper said as he pressed on some sort of communication device. He threw his bag into the dirt next to him. He looked tired.

"Yes?" Someone responded.

"Two month's supply of vials. Exchange one female mint condition." He stated before looking over at Lucy's hand, "Near mint condition."

"Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The voice responded, there was something strange about the voice that I couldn't recognize. It almost didn't sound human.

The door to the building buzzes and slowly opens. Lucy watched it with concern evident in her eyes, "What's in there?" She asked.

"You're about to find out," Cooper replies as he cuts the rope that bound her wrists.

"You're selling me?" Lucy asks, a look of disbelief on her face.

Cooper pulls a gun from his hip and cocks it, "You got problems out here too, sweetheart. Best you try your luck behind that door. Go on." He says as he shoves her.

I watch on from behind Cooper as Lucy shuffles her way into the building, giving a nervous look back before she enters.

Once she enters, Cooper deflates. He was obviously putting on a show for her. Pretending he wasn't as sick as he really was. "Y/n?"

"Cooper?" I ask breathlessly.  

Instead of responding, the ghoul collapsed.

"Cooper!" I yell out as I shake him. His eyes are open and he's still awake but for some reason, he was not able to move. 

I pushed the button he was using to communicate with the man inside the building. "He can't wait he needs it now!" Only to get no response. "We will give you another person! A female near mint conditon." I say, describing myself.

Cooper whispered out, "No." I could barely hear him. 

I crouch down next to him and place his hat next to him, "It's my turn to take care of you." I declared, giving him a sad smile. 

I took his gun and tried to shoot the door to break it. I had never used a gun before, so it took me a minute or two to figure out. The glass, however, appeared to be bulletproof. 

"Shit," I mumbled before placing the gun on the ground. 

I then decided to try and pry the door open with no such luck. I run between the cars around us, searching for anything I can use to open the door. In one of them, I find a crowbar. "Yes!" I yell happily as I run back to the door. I wrestled with it for a while before I finally was able to get the crowbar inside, finally, I had some progress. I yelled out in frustration as I tried to open the door. It was the heaviest thing I have ever felt in my life. Moving it just an inch took more strength than I had, especially in my state. 

After a couple minutes of struggling, I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. I looked over at Cooper only to see he hadn't loved an inch. "Cooper?" I call out as I crawl towards him. I sit next to him and gently lift his head onto my lap, rolling him onto his back. "You'll be okay," I say quietly before looking up at the door. I was hoping that soon they would come out to give him the vials he was owed. The silence felt like it had been going on forever when there were suddenly gunshots coming from inside the building. I help Cooper a little closer, afraid and confused. I grabbed his gun again and held it close to my side. 

"I've got you, Coop," I whispered to him.

The building then went silent again. There was a moment before Lucy strolled out the door, covered in blood. 

"Lucy? What happened?" I gasp.

"They were going to harvest my fucking organs!" She yelled angrily as she sauntered over to us. 

I shakily hold up my gun, causing her to stop in her tracks. 

"He doesn't get these, he turns into one of those? That how it works?" She asked, holding up a couple vials. 

I lower the gun and start begging. "Please, Lucy."

She crouches down next to him and contemplates for a moment before saying to Cooper, "I may end up looking like you... but I'll never be like you." Before getting up, she gently puts some vials in my hand. "Golden rule, motherfuckers."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I cry out happily as I start rummaging through Cooper's pockets searching for his inhaler. "I've got you, I've got you.." I kept repeating as I shakily put the vial in the inhaler and hold it up to his mouth. It takes a couple tries, but ultimately, he gets ahold of it and breathed in the contents. I make a happy squeak as he starts to move again. 

He lets out a soft wheeze before saying 'Why the hell would you do that?" 

"What?" I asked him confused.

"You were going to fucking sell yourself? For me?" He states angrily as he sits up to a sitting position. 

"Well-" I start.

"Well, nothing. Never do that again." He shouts as he stands, pulling me up by my collar. The fear on my face softened him as he released my shirt with a sigh, "I ain't worth it, darlin'."

"You are to me," I say quietly. "You are never getting rid of me."

He lets out a small laugh as he smiles wearily, his resolve dimishing. "You are way too good for me, sugar."

"Well too bad, Cooper. You've got me." I say as kiss him on the cheek.

Just as I was pulling away he grabbed hold of my hip "Come here." He says as his lips crash into mine. 

I let out a squeak in surprise before I started to return the kiss. It was sloppy and heated, filled with pent-up emotions. It was everything I wanted.

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[babywriter]

You were making yourself a sandwich when a beautiful woman wearing only a shirt and underwear came in. Strangely, her underwear consisted of a very thick purple diaper.

“Hum, excuse me?” you said. Not that you minded beautiful women walking into your house, but strangers are strangers.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Who are you?”

“What?”

“Who are you?” you said louder.

“I’m me?” She looked genuinely confused.

“What is your name?” perhaps she was a little slow.

“Jean?” She answered very slowly, as if you were the stupid one.

“Last name?”

“Billings?” You did know a Gene Billings, your roommate, but the thing with your roommate was that he was a man and this was a woman.

“He brought you home last night?” which confused you, because Gene hadn’t gone out last night.

“Who?”

“Gene.”

“I am Jean.” she said.

“Ok, this isn’t leading anywhere. What’s your real name? Where’s Gene?”

“There isn’t any other Jean, I am Jean! Why are you doing this?"

You had enough of this and went to Gene’s room, where he probably was anyway, or so you thought until you opened the door. Because this was definitely not Gene’s room. This was the room of a grown woman. 

“Ah, I get it. Trying some roleplay?” said Jean behind you. “It’s okay, I can do that.” And suddenly her hands were all over your chest. She pushed you towards her bed and unzipped your pants.

“I’m really sorry, mister. I just came in because I was thirsty.” she said.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” you said weakly so that she wouldn’t really hear you.

“Oh, mister, it’s so big!” Her every touch was electric. And when she put it in her mouth, your limbs couldn’t help but spasm immediately.

“Mmm.” She said with her mouth full. “Thank you, mister.” She swallowed. “I feel much better now.” She stood up while you were laying on the bed, panting. 

“I just love sucking.” she said while rummaging through her drawers. “It’s great. Bet you loved it too, uh?”

“Yeah.”

“So, now we’re just going to diaper you and get rid of that little manhood of yours and we’ll be done!”

“What?” But it was too late. By the time she said it, a thick white diaper was already getting taped to your bottom.

You felt the effects immediately. Your breasts, thighs and hair were growing while other things were most definitely disappearing. Like your chest hair. After about a minute, you forgot you ever were a man.

“Thanks for the change, Jean.” You said.

“No problem.”

“So, that guy you were talking about?”

“Daddy? Yeah, he said he’d be willing to let BOTH of us do it. We could even move in with him.”

“I don’t want to move in with a guy.” you said. “I’d rather stay single to get ALL the guys.”

“Fair point. Men sure do like girls in diapers, don’t they?"

Photo credit: @littlestkittenxx

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