#this one's just broke that image this one's a little bitch

[bat-the-misfit]

nevermind the person's clearly an ISFJ

[bunnylovesani]

You Belong To Me

Summary: You find out about your husband Spencer’s affair with another woman. It's safe to say you don’t have the reaction either of them were expecting.

Content warnings: infidelity, voyeurism, facetime sex, humiliation, p in v sex, creampie

WC: 2.3k

“Who is she?” You shudder with disgust as you stare into the sunken eyes of your husband. He looked almost unrecognisable to you now that you’d learned of his betrayal. 

“Her name’s Maeve. She’s a geneticist who’s been helping me with those headaches.” He sighs resolutely, knowing there was no point attempting to hide this from you. He didn’t mean to let things escalate but you’d been going through a rough patch and Maeve was just so understanding- she embodied all the things you lacked.

“Did you fuck her?” Your voice trembled with anger, goosebumps piercing through your thin blouse as you braced yourself for his response. 

“No. It was a purely emotional affair.” He stated a little too coldly. 

“Ah. And I suppose that makes it alright, does it?” You scoffed, getting up from the sofa you were curled up on with Spencer mere minutes earlier before he came out with his crushing confession. 

“Of course not. There are no excuses.” He looked down, not daring to meet your appalled gaze. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” 

“Spencer Reid speechless? I never thought I’d see the day.” You chuckle darkly, fidgeting with your wedding band. You loved him with all your heart, the day you said your vows was the happiest of your life- now that he’d broken his, you weren’t sure how much any of it really meant. 

“Were you going to leave me for her?” Against your best efforts, your voice broke with a pitiful crack that left Spencer with a pained expression on his handsome face. 

“No! No, I promise. I would never leave you.” He interjected, leaving no room for doubt. “She was just a distraction. You’re it for me.”

You sunk back into the plushy couch with a defeated sigh, unwelcome tears pricking your glossy eyes. 

“I don’t know, Spence…” You sniffled, beginning to slide the ring off your finger. 

“Baby.” He took your hands into his own as he dropped to his knees before you, still in his work suit. “I messed up. I messed up in the worst way possible. I’m a fucking idiot. But if you forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, my love. I’ll do anything.” 

An unfamiliar desperation tinged his voice that made your gut twist into an iron knot. He looked pathetic right now; kneeling on the floor with furrowed eyebrows as he pleaded to save his marriage. 

“I want you to call her.” You exhaled sharply after an excruciating moment of contemplation.

“You- what?” His forehead wrinkles deepened with shock. 

“You heard me. Call the bitch.” He gulped at your request and his eyes darted around frantically as he analysed every possible outcome.

“A video call. I want to see what the little homewrecker looks like.” You spat as he remained motionless, mouth agape and eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d rather get a divorce?” 

“I’ll do it.” He shook his head clumsily, rattled by the whole ordeal. 

“Wonderful. Come sit next to me and prop your phone up on the table.” You patted the spot besides you as Spencer stumbled over, still confused by your unpredictability. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Start dialling.” You snapped snarkily as he scrolled through his phone with shaky hands. Locating her contact, his fingers hovered above the call button. 

“Dr. Donovan, huh?” You peered over. “The one you told me had been helping you with a case?” 

“Y-yeah.” He whispered ashamedly. 

“Now this I have to see.” You murmured bitterly as the line began to ring. 

“Spence, hi! Wasn’t expecting you to call at this time.” The bubbly voice of the other woman rang out through his speakers. Your eyes zeroed in on the pixelated image of a brunette woman with a choppy fringe. 

“Why, do you guys have a set time for your little calls? When I’m sleeping, perhaps?” You popped into the frame, grinning wildly. 

“Oh. H-hello. Spencer, what’s going on?” She looked to him for help but he just sat there resignedly, knowing he couldn't appease you both. 

“So you’re the one who’s been helping herself to my husband.” You chuckled disingenously. “I thought you’d be a lot prettier.” You neared the phone to get a better look. “Really, baby? Her?” 

Spencer looked away, not daring to say a word to his wife or his lover.

“And you? You don’t have anything to say?” You opened the floor to Maeve.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks reddened as she stuttered, her nauseating voice ricocheting off the walls and worming its way into your ears. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk. Just watch.” You hissed in such a searing way that it made her feel threatened and inclined to obey. 

Spencer looked up at you in confusion but his doubts were swiftly answered when you loosened his tie and ripped off his collared shirt with a murderous lust. 

“Baby, what-“

“You’re not going to say a word.” You smoothly replied, voice barely audible. 

You observed his sad eyes, entrenched with light crows feet that worsened with the weight of stress and regret. You weren’t sure how you were even going to begin to process his betrayal but right now, you had to take care of her first. What better way to drive home the point that he was yours than to show her? 

Unbuckling his heavy leather belt with an urgency you’d never felt, you glanced over to make sure Maeve was watching. Sure enough, the demure woman couldn’t peel her eyes away from the sight unfolding before her. 

As you pulled down his pleated black trousers, you unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your skirt, throwing the articles of clothing behind you in a rushed hurl. Trailing your fingers down his boxers with your engagement ring flashing in front of the camera, you settled on his waistband. 

“Now, Spence. You’re going to fuck me in front of her.” 

His breath hitched as the unholy words left your smirking mouth. 

“And you-” You turned to face Maeve, who’s hand engulfed her mouth in panic. “You are going to watch it all.“

“No! You’re insane-“

“Or I’ll tell everyone at your work that you’re a home wrecking whore.” You dropped the threat like a hammer and it instantly silenced her.

“That’s what I thought.” 

A twisted grin consumed your face as you looked back at Spencer, who licked his lips at the sight before him- his wife eagerly spread open on the couch, waiting to be filled up. You weren’t sure whether it was an anxious tick or a sign of arousal and frankly, you didn’t care. 

“Show me how sorry you are.” You breathed heavily as you hooked your black lace panties and pulled them to the side.

Needing no further initiative, Spencer lowered his boxers and let his heavy cock spring free from its confines. Despite sex being the last thing on his mind, he couldn’t help the natural reaction his body had to you- it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it in the last 5 years of your marriage, the sight of you split open for him was always enough to bring him crumbling to his knees. 

Shuffling closer, he let a long string of spit dribble down to your pussy before smearing it around with his painfully swollen tip. He was in a state of delirium and shock as his body moved as though it weren't his own- whatever the consequences, he knew he couldn't lose you.

“You see that, Maeve?” You cocked your head to the side. “That’s all mine.” 

You moaned shakily as he pushed himself in, coating his shaft in your wetness. 

“Isn’t that right, baby? Tell her.” You ordered your husband as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing against it to go even deeper. 

“That’s right.” He groaned as he plunged his cock in as deep as it could go, his skin flush against yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” You gazed up at him, running your fingers through his messy curls. 

“You, baby. I belong to you.” He whispers before turning to face the camera. “I belong to her. She owns me.” 

Maeve let out a short huff of disbelief, wanting to look away but struggling. 

“Harder.” You choked out a whisper as your body trembled under his touch, longing for more, aching to possess and to be possessed. 

His thrusts sped up in response, his hips smacking against yours fervently as you clawed at his back like a wounded animal. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whined as he took you by the face with both hands, forcing you to look clearly at him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Keep going.” You whispered frantically- the feeling of being perfectly stuffed paired with your volatile emotional state left you teetering on the edge of collapse. 

“She means nothing to me.” He grunted between thrusts and you bore a wide toothy grin at the capriciously sweet words. Real or not, you knew they had to hurt her- and that brought you a sadistic amount of pleasure. 

“What were you thinking going for her?” You tutted as he pounded into you like it was the last time, creamy arousal glistening in the dimly lit lounge. “I’m so much better than her. She’s so ugly. Isn’t she, Spence?” 

“Y-yes.” He whimpered. “She’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.” 

Satisfied enough with his taunting, you pushed him back with a bitter hand against his chest and climbed onto his lap with increasing desperation. 

“Bet you wish you could ride him like this, don’t you?” You sneered as you stroked his wet cock with a couple squelchy pumps. “But you never will. This dick is all mine.” 

You lowered yourself onto him, adjusting to his size with breathy moans as he threw his head back in deluge. Bouncing on it with more force than usual, you looked back to observe Maeve’s horrified face glowing on the screen. 

“You got that, bitch?” You jeered mockingly as you reached for his phone and flipped the camera to show Spencer’s exasperated face. “My husband, my dick.” 

With your final act of aggression, you hung up the call and threw the phone behind you. You were fairly confident she wouldn’t be inserting herself into your marriage again any time soon. 

“What the hell-” Spencer’s croaky voice rang out in intervals as you continued riding him with stomach-churning speed. “was that?”

“I was reminding you who you’re married to.” You halted for a moment to catch your breath. “You seem to have forgotten.”

His firm, calloused hands snaked their way around your hips as he dug his fingernails into your flesh, bringing you closer to him. 

“I'll never make that mistake again.” He declared solemnly, brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. “Do you forgive me, my love?”

Your limbs went numb and you felt paralysed at the thought. How could you ever forgive such an abuse of trust? 

Spencer firmly grabbed you by the jaw before trailing his hand to the nape of your neck. You wanted to wriggle out of his grasp but he guided your head to rest over his shoulder as he settled his touch on the small of your back. 

“I don’t know…” You slumped into him, feeling immobilised as you murmured mindlessly. 

He suddenly grabbed your ass and roughly spread it apart to allow easier access to your core- he thrust up into your weeping pussy with a force that had you huffing out wordless squeaks. He set a ruthless tempo, hammering into you as your gushing arousal dripped down his thighs. 

“If I’m going to let that little stunt you just pulled slide-“ He growled with a renewed ferocity. “then you’re going to suck it up and forgive me too.” 

Whining, you smacked the side of his bicep in protest but the way he was fucking your brains out left you unable to speak. 

“I don’t wanna hear it baby.” He kissed your temple sloppily as he patted your hair, smoothing it down while he massaged your insides. “You’re meant for me and I’m meant for you. We’re perfectly fucked up for each other.”

“Mmph-“ You moaned into his shoulder, drool dribbling down his skin as you bit into it. 

“I’m never letting you go.” He sped up as his force and aggression grew, leaving bruises in the shape of fingertips littered along your hips and ass. 

With one final thrust, you came undone - squeezing his cock so tight in the process that he couldn’t help but fill you up to the brim with his cum. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, creamy wetness pouring out of you as he pulled your sweaty bodies apart. 

“Okay.” You sighed. “I forgive you.” 

Spencer abruptly sat up as the precious words spilled from your swollen lips. “You mean it?” He trembled hopefully, melting expression tugging at your heartstrings. 

“Only if you swear to me it’ll never happen again.” You wagged your finger at him as he leapt onto you unexpectedly.

“Never! Never, baby, I swear.” He planted grateful kisses up and down your body as you indulged in a reluctant smile. “It’s only you. You are the only one for me. Now and for the rest of my life.” 

You could tell by his adoring gaze that he meant every word. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled into a healing embrace. He was allowed to make one mistake, you loved him enough to let it slide. And if resentment ever crept up on you, you could always fondly recall that drunken night with Agent Morgan. Who said married couples weren’t allowed a few secrets?

[confietti]

CAN U WRITE FOR SUKUNA IM BEGGING HJFJFJRR

Never Lose Me

you knew sukuna would kill you if he knew where you were right now, but you didn't care. you had it in your airy little head that he was a cheater because of what one of your 'homegirls' told you.

it all started when you were in your shared apartment laid on the bed scrolling through instagram waiting for 'kuna to come home when your 'friend' sent you a picture of him hugging this girl.

you never were the smartest, so you never second-guessed the photo. you on the other hand immediately broke down into tears. sukuna never liked her and always suggested you get better friends for a reason.

he always got weird vibes from her because she continuously tried to make passes at him whenever you weren't around.

you could only imagine your boyfriend's surprise to get drunken texts and voicemails of you telling him to 'go fuck himself' and how you 'don't need him'.

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: [ forwarded an image ]

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: nigga FUCJ you

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: i thoguth we had somethgin anf you trwest me like thid??? i hste you!

hubby💝: ??? baby? who sent you that???

hubby💝: and are you at the fucking club??

you stared at your phone through teary eyes as you blocked his number and turned off location sharing. you shoved your phone into your purse and continued to drink.

sukuna had been watching from across the bar for probably 20 minutes now. he watched you flirting with the guy you were talking to for maybe the same amount of time. he studied the way you held onto his arm and laughed at all his jokes. it made his blood boil.

“what do you say we take this a step further hm?~” his hand slipped up your thigh and you giggled when he started nibbling on your neck.

“nah fuck this.” your boyfriend slammed his drink on the counter and stormed towards you, angrily shoving people out of the way but he didn't care. his main focus was you.

he didn't say anything as he heaved you over the shoulder like a sandbag, ignoring your protests and the weird looks he got as he exited the bar. he practically threw you in the passenger's seat and locked the door.

the car ride to his house was dead silent. except for your protests and complaints about your boyfriend's behavior.

“Bitch why the fuck did you do all that for?” you stared at him with your arms crossed over your chest in annoyance, glaring at him for an answer that never came.

the rest of the ride was just you looking out the window and light curses underneath your breath of “cheating ass”, “hoe ass”, “worthless ass”.

once you got home, sukuna parked the car and dragged you into his house with a tight grip on your arm.

he walked into his bedroom and threw you down on the bed before locking the door. then sukuna finally spoke after what was hours after not speaking.

“you gonna explain your sudden little tantrum or do i have to fuck the attitude outta you first?”

sukuna chuckled when you still had your arms crossed over your chest, not looking in his direction. your eyes were puffy as you let out little hiccups and sniffles. you were still mad at him for spoiling your fun. how cute.

just then he harshly gripped your chin forcing you to look at him. “it’s really rude to not look people in the eyes when they’re talking to you.”

his hands traveled down to your neck and he squeezed it tightly, you felt a breathy chuckle in your ear before he began to speak.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh ma?”

it was about 20 minutes later and your brain was so foggy to the point where you couldn’t remember how you got into this position.

your boyfriend had you on all fours, one of his hands pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail, the other wrapped around your neck pulling your head back to whisper the most disgusting things into your ear.

“you think what you said t’me was nice? you thought it was funny to send me those voicemails and texts while i was working? huh? y’had me worrying my ass off you dumb. fucking. bitch.”

he emphasized those last three words with harsh thrusts, before pulling your head back to tap his fingers at the side of your cheek. “open.” he mumbled before spitting roughly in your mouth. “swallow all that shit.” he spat before shoving your face back into the pillow before you.

he took this time to analyze how small your figure was compared to his. you were so much smaller… so vulnerable… so much easier to manhandle.

sukuna decided to tease you. fucking you slowly, working every inch of his thick cock into your little hole as slowly as he could. he wanted you to memorize every vein and inch. he wanted to make sure you never forget tonight and you should never disobey him ever again.

“wouldn’t have to be this way if you were just a good little girl who followed the rules. tsk.” this had been going on for hours now. the rough fucking, the degradation, even after what? 4 orgasms? he still hasnt had his. you figured out by now that this wasn’t a punishment… he wanted to torture you.

“p-pleasee ryo.. i’m- haa~ s-sorry! wan’ you t’fill me up. please!” he chuckled darkly. “ y’want me to fill you up? huh?” “please! hnghh- m’sorry!” “you never did have any shame did ya hun?”

sukuna’s thrusts began to get sloppier as he was nearing his release. you whimpered for him to slow down as your tear stained face was pressed into the pillow. his balls slapping against your clit with each harsh thrust.

“i won’t f-fuck- i wont slow down. you’re grown, right? if you can go to the bar on your own then you can take this shit like a big girl, right?”

before you knew it hot ropes of cum start spurting out filling your tight cunt. your boyfriend’s thrusts began to slow down until they came to a complete stop.

he slowly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers to keep his seed in. humming lowly before getting up to get some towels from the bathroom.

you woke up the next morning in his shirt. you tried to get up before feeling an immense pain in your back. you groaned before you felt a large hand rubbing at the small of your back.

“y’wanna talk about your feelings now? if you don’t want too then we can always go for round two. i still have some energy left over.” he smirked down at you.

“also.. this was supposed t’be a surprise but… the girl i was hugging in the picture you sent wasn’t anybody baby. remember when we were apartment shopping and you mentioned you really wanted the one in tokyo?”

you nodded as sukuna pushed some of your hair behind your ear to see your face better.

“it’s ours now.” sukuna thought that nothing could compare to your smile in that very moment as you hugged and peppered kisses across his face while murmuring little ‘thank yous’ in his ear.

“yeah, yeah.” he chuckled and hugged you back. “you could never lose me that easily.”

a/n: thank you so much for this request anon!!! it took me a little while but i really enjoyed writing it. hope you enjoy!! </3!!

© confietti, 2024. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

[matchalovertrait]

"Count your days," is what Dulce is thinking. She WANTS to kill him, but she still feels a little bad for breaking his heart... and she's trying to be in her character development arc! Also, she kind of got herself into this mess.. What's a girl to do in this situation???? Okay, okay. Y'know what? We're overcomplicating things. In response, we have to be well-mannered and considerate. There is a certain image we have to maintain. Dulce will make a video calmly explaining the truth and bring out the receipts. After all, her cookbook wasn't made overnight. There are drafts of her ideas everywhere on her computer and she backed everything up in other places. This'll be easy to handle! Piece of cake.

Note: I'm kind of exploring different genres with each generation, at least the first three. Generation 1 was more slice-of-life (besides the social commentary on money, power, etc.). Generation 2 is going to be much more telenovela-esque 😅 So if things get a little outlandish, it's supposed to be like that.

I also researched a lot for certain things that are coming up, but I'm just one person so maybe it's not 100% perfect 😭 I don't have an editing team and I'm a very inexperienced writer. Sooooo yeahhh, let's get this next part started!

Transcript:

Dulce: Oh, a text from Rubiya! Did she send me another cat video?

Dulce: Never mind, she didn’t. Why does she want me to see Caruso’s video? Did he become an executive chef? Good for him.

[Thumbnail of Caruso's video titled, "storytime: MY IDEAS WERE STOLEN!!]

Dulce: This better be a clickbait title and this better not be about me.

20 mins into the video...

Caruso's "video" subtitles: Sorry for how long this video ended up being, but yes. In short, Dulce Alegria and I broke up because she was toxic. She treated me unfairly and took my recipes without asking! I was too afraid to speak out.

Caruso's "video" subtitles: However, I now recognize my self-worth will no longer be silenced! It’s time for me to take the credit for my stolen work. Bravo for me.

Caruso's "video" subtitles: I’m proud of myself for finally stepping forward. I was being manipulated and taken advantage of for too long. Thank you for watching.

Dulce: Son of a bitch.

Dulce: Okay, but there is no way people actually believe this. My cookbook is clearly personal to ME. [Scrolls down to read the comments.]

Dulce: I’m going to kill him.

[deadghosy]

I am in desperate need of more chibi!reader.

What if chibi makes mini cakes in their little mini kitchen and decorates them to the characters colors, and possibly flavor preferences?

Thanks if you do this

❤️ anon

AWW THATS SO CUTEEE!!!💗🦆

CUTE HEADCANNNONS ABOUT CHIBI!READER

WARNING: FLUFF💗🦆

You sometimes snuggle with husk as if he was a mother cat as he purrs having his arm over your small chubby body.

Imagine you and Angel having your own poses with Angel. You and Angel definitely have a whole bunch of photos which is so cool.

Imagine you and your bad ASS HOT PINK PRETTY PRINCESS CAR GOING FOR A JOY RIDE! with of course Lucifer beside you as he controls a toy car that has duck designs on it. I mean shittt you guys race as if you are depending your lives on it

Your car broke down…(Angel forgot to change the batteries for you) you sniffled “depressed” until Angel came back to shown you your new HOT GLAMOUR HOT PINK CAR WITH SPARKLES!?

Yeah….you definitely used it to run over someone’s toes as you smirked with your shades on like a badass bitch.

You have an easy bake oven…

NOW CMONNNN YOOU CANT LIE CHIBI! READER BE COOKIN OUT HERE😭

Literally the crew bought you a mini kitchen set and let you decorate it to your [aesthetic] as you smiled having your hands to your hips as you smiled at this.

Vaggie and Charlie sleeping with you beside them like a baby as you twitch 😭ima cry because that’s actually do adorable imaging a baby chibi reader who sleep so cozy to the point you wanna squish their cheeks.

You feed the crew your mini dishes from your mini kitchen which makes them smile at your effort. You accidentally burnt yourself but you huff with a determined squeak as you kept cooking for them.

You were the one who would put bows in alastor’s hair…and Alastor smiled softly at your affection towards him.

A chubby chibi reader who rubs their cheek against the cast’s thumbs with a soft squeak needy for attention for once as they were getting ignored.

A cute headcannon is that, the cast makes a Day schedule who youvwokd be with every week as it’s just fun tk see you come out of the person’s room with a new attitude and clothing choice.

You patted a toy duck thinking it was real as you made a “quack” sound with a squeak as it was heart aching to Lucifer as he grabs where his heart is and recorded the whole thing

You are having a bubble bath tired in a toy tub like I said before as Charlie coos at how cute you are as she scrubs your soft hair

Your favorite cartoon is hello kitty + SpongeBob as it showed how childish you are and were

I headcannon reader to waddle up against to sir Pentious to show how much you love him. That made him tear up a bit as he shows you off to his eggs

You yawn as you snuggle against anything….ANYTHING! You freaking name it-

You definitely get babied like a real baby but you don’t complain as you just be spoiled rotten by affection. They sure damn know

Imagine reader holding a small toy duck as they softly snooze. Like and there is a this ambience music in the background which makes the reader pass out faster.

Alastor has you on his desk as he makes a broadcast as a victim who tried to stomp on you has been murdered���not like you know anyways.

You are definitely the one people can’t leave for a minute as you would piss anyone off in a second. But you are so cute anyone could forgive you.

THATS ALL I HAVE FOR CUTE HCS🦆💗✨

[loveindefinitely]

O b s e s s e d with need to listen to me. I can't get it out of my head.

I mostly can't stop thinking of soap who is so disgruntled and moody after the whole ordeal. Just absolutely pent up, so he starts acting out, snapping, talking back, that sort of thing. As promised price extends his punishment and it only breaks soap down more and more until finally he's sobbing and begging price to please do Something.

I have no idea where to go from here I just love the mental image of soap acting out when he doesn't get what he wants, maybe price extends ghost and gaz's punishments as well. Says something like "you can thank him for this" and now they're All huffy and upset.

Reader's the only one who is spared so they take out their frustration on her.

Ok i'm done thank you so much have a good day

-🐭

you are a GENIUS omg. ily. this is sososo canon in this mini poly141 verse.

warning. nsfw drabble (cont. ntltm)

because you're so right. soap would be a total bitch afterwards. needy and pent up and kinda jealous that you two are the only ones that got to get off, even though he put so much effort into eating you out. homeboy is stressed.

cue the next morning, where he's grumpy, whiney and just overall being a frustrating guy to be around.

ghost is in the kitchen, fixing up breakfast in the mess, and soap would just come up behind him, nuzzling his head into his neck and pressing his dick against simon. rutting into him kinda, before ghost shoots him a vicious glare. he backs off.

but then, he sees gaz walking in, and he rushes over to him, pulling him into a deep hug. one that was a bit too much for their usual morning interactions.

that's when you stumble in, weary eyed and still kinda lethargic from last night's ordeal.

and soap's not mad, not really, but he's frustrated that you got the better end of the deal.

so, he pulls you in, hands at your hips, before he's assaulting your mouth with feverish kisses. they're frantic, and you can feel how hard he is where it presses against your stomach. you try and pull away, and when you do, the man huffs like a disgruntled pup.

when it's price who comes in next, soap is pissed off beyond relief.

rising a brow, a challenging one, price would ask how he slept. soap would roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath that would have your eyes blowing wide, a little shocked, a little dismayed.

gaz would blow out a deep exhale, extracting himself from the situation, walking quietly over to ghost. which, for once, would be the safest option out of you four.

and price would narrow his eyes, daring soap to keep up his pissy attitude. soap would, of course, because this man has absolutely ZERO self preservation skills.

he'd then have the nerve to ask if he can bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you. just, openly asking, as if you yourself aren't standing right there.

price would simply tell him that he won't be allowed to stick his dick in anything for the rest of the week.

then, he'd stride over to the other two men without another word, tell them the same thing, and get to work cutting up some spinach.

and you'd be left there, gaping, confused, as soap stands with a similar expression. as if he wasn't fully aware that his actions held consequences, and he really shouldn't have been such a brat after last night.

he'd narrow his eyes at you, snarky, saying something about how you yet again evaded punishment.

say something about how price 'dinnae said nothin' 'bout bendin' ye over, aye?" and he'd forcefully bend you over the table, rutting into your back like a mutt, using your body without inserting anything anywhere.

and, with a moment of clarity, you'd realise that gaz and ghost are watching, with a glint of envy in their eyes.

you'd been in for a long week.

this is absolutely shit btw because halfway through writing this my BED BROKE and i think i may have also broken my toe. so this is coming from a place of pain and distress. great idea tho !! thanks for enjoying my writing mwah mwah

[thestruidora]

How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?

In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.

Thanks!

Cry Wolf

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?

This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist

Chapter One

Bad Moon Rising

"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."

You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.

You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.

“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.

You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.

“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.

The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.

“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.

“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.

“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.

Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.

The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.

His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.

“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.

“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.

Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.

“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.

“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.

You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.

“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.

The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.

Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.

“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.

You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.

“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.

You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.

You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.

Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.

“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.

You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.

“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”

He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.

“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.

His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.

He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.

He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.

The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.

“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.

Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.

“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.

You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.

With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.

“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”

“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.

His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.

“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.

You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.

He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.

“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”

“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.

“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”

“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.

You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.

He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.

Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.

He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.

“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.

Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.

His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.

“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”

He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.

“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”

The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.

His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.

“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.

His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.

He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.

You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.

“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”

The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.

You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.

He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.

He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.

He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.

“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”

Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.

“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.

“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.

All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.

That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.

As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.

There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.

You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.

But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.

The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.

“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.

He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.

His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.

“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”

You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.

His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.

You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.

He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.

The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?

With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”

You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.

Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.

As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.

“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.

“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”

You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.

“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.

You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.

The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.

He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.

“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.

Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.

He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.

“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.

In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.

Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.

There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.

How can he be hard? How is that even possible?

He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.

You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.

You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.

“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.

Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.

“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.

He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.

“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."

He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.

How did that happen? How did you end up here?

“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.

You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.

He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.

You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.

“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.

His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.

Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.

“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”

[deansapplepie]

Can’t promise ya that Sweetheart

Daryl x f!Reader | Established relationship | pos savior war | Dad Daryl | little fluff

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating (not Daryl, of course), memory loss, Negan, a little bit of violence, mentions of death, killing threat, a little part of blood, pregnancy, mentions of birth, mentions of torturing, mentions of cancer. (If I forgot anything tell me) Minors do not interact, 18+.

A/N: This is a small story based on this dream that I had in the end of the last year. Finally decided to write something about it.

It didn’t go exactly what I had planned because of the dream, but here it is. Also, I wanted it to be a small drabble, but I turned it into a big one-shot.

Another thing is… Daryl and Reader have a 6 year old son, but in no moment I wrote his name in the history. I received a critique about reader’s son in The Spitting Image, so I’m still deciding if I’ll continue with DJ in my Dad Daryl fics, or if it will be only for The Spitting Image and I’m coming up with another name in my other fics. Just to make it clear, I have no intention in changing DJ’s name in The Spitting Image.

When the Greenes found you, the world had already ended. In one of Otis’ hunting leaves he encountered you, all bloody, your hair a mess of dried blood and dirty. At first he thought you were dead, but then you let a small cry and he checked your vital signs confirming you were indeed alive. That day he didn’t go back to the farm with good meat, he took you in his arms and arrived at the house urging for help.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

[megamindsecretlair]

Sit Back and Unwind

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI., multiple uses of derogatory names and slight daddy kink. You are in charge of your own reading experience! Intentional use of AAVE. Porn without plot. Cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male receiving) derogatory language, possession kink, size kink, all consensual. Sorry if I miss any others!

Summary: As you grease Tyrone's scalp, he talks you into giving in to him and your insane chemistry.

Word Count: 1,688k

A/N: I'm going to shut my comp down for the weekend 'cause I am feral and I have nothing to say for myself. Just had an image of greasing that man's scalp and it ran away from me. Also gonna get zooted and watch the movie for the 3rd time so far. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers.

Tyrone sat with his broad shoulders in between your legs as you combed through his hair. The living room was hot and stuffy, even with your windows open and a box fan blowing. The TV played a basketball game because Tyrone didn’t want to watch one of your “wack-ass Lifetime movies”.

You moved his head as you combed through his thick, coarse hair. You parted a section and ran grease through it. Tyrone’s hands began to rub your exposed legs. “Boy stop,” you said and parted another section.

“When you gonna give me a chance?” He asked.

“Don’t bring that shit up right now,” you said and giggled.

“C’mon. I’ll make you feel good.” His hands continued to roam. His hands were rough and calloused like he been workin’ hard. You licked your lips and breathed deeply. Your attraction to this man was insane.

“You know why, Tyrone. You lucky I’m even doing your hair right now.” 

“C’moooon. I told you I ain’t even messing with nobody right now. I want you,” he said. He looked back at you so you could look into his molten brown eyes.

“Yeah? And how many bitches messin’ with you?” You turned his head and continued to grease his scalp. 

“You know I’ll have your legs shakin’ while I’m in them guts. That’s why you don’t want to give me a chance,” he said and sucked his teeth.

“I am not finna play with you!” You laughed. You laughed but you knew he was telling the truth. You heard the stories about Tyrone’s big dick. Hell, you didn’t even need the stories. Just from the way that muthafucka walk, you knew he’d have you speaking in tongues.

But you didn’t need some random little girl blowing up your phone at 3am once word got out that you fucked Tyrone. You were not prepared to throw hands every time you ran up to the hair shop.

“Why not? I’m trynna play with you.” 

You rolled your eyes and continued to part his hair. When you didn’t answer, he leaned forward and half turned on the floor. He looked you up and down, licking his juicy lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. 

Your nipples pebbled and you knew he probably noticed through your flimsy tank. It was hot for entirely different reasons. He turned more until he was completely facing you. His hands rubbed your thick thighs as he kept eye contact. Your breathing turned shaky. 

“Just let me play with you. You want me to, don’t you?” 

You didn’t protest as his hands went further up. His thumbs pressed into your inner thighs and you bit your lip to keep from moaning. He found some kind of ache because he zeroed in on it, continuing to press it and massage out the knot.

He moved in between your legs, spreading them further. He unbuttoned your shorts and opened them and smirked at your panties. 

“Let me take care of that,” he said.

You leaned forward, intending to push him away. Instead, his lips descended on yours. His warm, wet tongue pressed against yours. As he kissed you, he worked your shorts off. You broke apart just long enough to lean up and get the shorts off your hips. 

He moved your panties to the side and dipped his thumb into your pussy. He hummed low in the back of his throat discovering how wet you were.

“You were just gonna sit here like this and not tell me?” He asked, his lips still pressed against yours. 

“We shouldn’t even be doing this,” you murmured. You were trying to be smart. To say all the right things. But then his thumb started to move, searching for and finding your swollen clit.

“Don’t lie to me. You want this dick. And I want to give it to you,” he said. 

“Tyrone…”

His thumb moved in tight, small circles and you started to moan. Shit. He played you like a fiddle, immediately finding what makes you weak. He moved his lips to your jaw and then to your neck, nibbling.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“Stop fightin’ me, girl.” He licked your neck. While one hand rubbed your clit, his other hand grabbed the other side of your neck. “Let me feed you this dick.” 

You moaned and dropped your head back against the couch. Your body convulsed and moved. His body heat was oppressive. 

Your arousal tightened your belly and you cried as you got closer and closer. Your nails dug into his forearms. He stopped his hand.

“Yo, what the fuck?!” 

He tilted his head. “Beg me for that shit,” he said. 

You grunted. “Fuck you, Tyrone!” 

He squeezed your neck and pulled you closer. He stuck his thumb in your mouth and you tasted your juices on his big fingers. You moaned and sucked and he watched you, almost indifferently. His nostrils flared. 

“Look at you. Can’t help yourself. Beg me to cum,” he said.

You were still so close. You didn’t want to lose it. “Please,” you moaned around his finger.

“I can’t hear you.” 

“Please, Tyrone. Please, let me cum,” you said. You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. You didn’t care to hold on to some bullshit morals. You’d deal with the crackheads sprung on his dick. You just wanted to cum. 

He yanked his thumb out of your mouth and returned it to your clit. Your spit mixed with your desire and you returned to moaning. “That’s my girl,” he growled.

“Shit,” you cried and finally came. How did this fucker know? Your legs shook and squeezed his waist as you came. 

“Lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty cumming for me,” he said as he watched you.

You panted as you calmed down. Your body was on fire. Sweat trickled down from your temple, under your boobs, and down your back. Somehow it wasn’t enough. You had an ache deep inside that wasn’t satisfied. 

Tyrone stood up and unbuttoned his dickies, pulling it down just far enough to release himself. He stroked his plump dick, squeezing the base and then down to the gleaming tip. 

“Get it wet for me,” he commanded.

You stared at it. Shit. The stories didn’t do him justice. You could see why he had girls cocksprung. 

“Now.” 

You huffed and scooted forward. You took the tip into your mouth. The smooth and salty taste of him had you clenching around nothing. You needed this inside of you. Your panties grew more damp by the second.

You took him as far as you could. His precum leaked out of him and you slurped it up. You brought your hands up to help you please him. You cupped his balls and rolled them. His answering growl made you shiver. You moaned around his dick as you bopped your head up and down.

He slipped his hands into your curly hair and palmed your scalp. He took control and fucked your mouth. Drool ran down your chin and you made all kinds of nasty sounds. “Nah, I’m cumming in that pretty little pussy,” he said. He slipped out of your mouth and gripped his dick.

He pushed you down onto the couch and moved your panties to the side again. He pushed in, stretching you.

“Goddamn,” he sighed as he worked his way in. He stroked in and out with shallow bursts to stretch you further. 

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” you cried as he worked into you. There was a slight burn and you bit your lip. The pleasure was immense. 

He put all his weight on you and bit your neck. He finally bottomed out and groaned in your ear. You scratched at his back over his tank before pulling it up so that you could get to him. To his skin. He smelled like cocoa butter and sweat. Like a man.

One of his hands spread your legs more so that he could get in there deep. His other hand braced himself on the side of your head. His breath fanned your ear and neck. “Talkin’ all that shit. You ain’t got nothing to say?” 

You shook your head. Your throat was raw from moaning. 

“Yeah, this my pussy, ain’t it?” He hiked your leg higher on his hip and hit a spot deep inside that made you buck.

“There that shit is.” He grinned as he continued to aim for that spot. 

“Shit. I c-can-” You couldn’t speak as black spots winked in and out of your vision. 

“Look at me. Look at me hittin’ this shit,” he said. Your eyes rolled until they found his. Your belly flipped. You clenched around him.

“Do that shit again,” he grunted. His strokes slowed down but became more powerful. He rocked into you so that on every up slide you scooted up the couch. 

You clenched again and he smirked. “That’s right. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” Your voice was small and weak as he continued to hit that G spot. 

“Yeah? Well tell Daddy thank you,” he said.

You huffed. You would’ve told him off if he wasn’t hitting so good. He took this shit seriously. 

“Thank you,” you said and cried out as he hit it a little too hard.

“Uh uh. Tell Daddy thank you.” 

He moved his hand from your thigh down to your neck. “Be a good little ho and tell Daddy thank you,” he demanded. 

He twisted his hips and drove into you. “Thank you Daddy!” You cried as you came all over him.

“That’s it. Squeeze Daddy’s dick,” he said. 

He fucked you through it, the wet slap of his thighs hitting yours. He tightened his grip on your neck as he moaned and busted. Steaming hot ropes of cum shot inside of you. 

And still he fucked you. “This my fuckin’ pussy. Don’t play about that shit no ‘mo.” 

He fucked his cum deeper into you. His strokes slowed down as he kissed your neck, your chest, and bit your nipple through your tank. 

“Next time I wanna see these titties bounce for me.”

[storm-angel989]

how would vox and the other vees react to his teenage daughter getting piercing and tattoos without them knowing?

Hi friend,

I like to think that Vox has better control of his emotions than Val- take a peek at what I came up with!

<3 Mandy

Vox could think of at least sixteen ways to handle the situation with an instantaneous result. Killing the person who dared to put a needle to the skin of his underaged daughter for one. An all girls boarding school, set in the furthest ring of hell. At minimum, screaming and yelling with he promise of infinite grounding would at least get his anger and disappointment out in the open.

When Velette called him down to her studio, he expected to be handed a file or six. Or more likely, be bitched at for some reason beyond his control. But when Velvette greeted him with little more than a command to follow her, and led him towards her office, he knew it was something much more pressing. Outside the door, Velvette paused.

“You can’t get mad, Vox,” she told him quietly. “You can’t. We need to handle it so she comes to us again. Got it? Promise me.”

“Uh, alright. I promise?” Vox replied. 

“Good. Now take a breath and keep that promise,” Velvette said as she pushed the door open. 

Inside, his daughter sat on top of Velvette’s desk. Wrapped loosely in a cotton robe and surrounded by tissues, Vox felt his heart drop. 

“Baby? Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked as he rushed towards her. He cupped her chin and tilted her head up to face him. “Talk to Daddy.” 

To his surprise, she shook her head vehemently. 

“You need to show your Dad, so we can get you to a doctor,” Velvette said gently. “Come on, he won’t be mad. Promise.”

She looked to him and to his surprise, his usually feisty teenage daughter had an expression that begged for confirmation of her words. In the back of his mind, worry began to form. A heartbeat of silence. A sharp elbow from Velvette and he winced. 

“That’s right, Reader,” he said finally. “I promise I won’t be mad.” 

With hesitation, Vox watched as Reader slowly turned away from him as she lowered her robe. Vox bit back as gasp at the sight of red inflamed skin sprawled across her lower back. Black lines rose to form an incoherent pattern and here and there he could barely make out parts of a word. Several words, perhaps. The broken up image of a butterfly. 

He felt his temper flare and Velvette’s hand tight against his shoulder. He took a deep breath and tried his best to keep his voice steady.

“What happened?” 

“I, my friends and I were at the mall and we decided to get matching tattoos,” she mumbled in response. 

“Where? How? You’re not old enough to get a tattoo, or a piercing without parental consent,” Vox said as he carefully examined her back. 

“Some guy in the back of the mall. He did my cartilage too,” Reader muttered as she lifted up her hair to reveal swollen, black and blue skin. “It’s all…it hurts, I’m sorry Daddy.” 

Vox couldn’t believe his daughter had done something so egregiously stupid. Gingerly, she pulled the robe over her back and turned to face him. 

“Daddy? I…”

“First things first. Let’s get you down to Val’s studio and have the doctor on staff take a look. You’re probably going to need a round or two of IV antibiotics and then we can go from there.” Vox said as calmly as he could. “We can talk about the rest later. For now, let's get you taken care of.”

Vox watched as his daughter broke down into tears. Instinctually, he reached out and wrapped her in his arms. 

“I know it hurts, baby, but we’ll get you some antibiotics. And probably a pain killer and you’ll feel much better,” he said as he held her. “Shush, sweetheart. Daddy will take care of you.” 

“She’s not just crying from pain, Vox,” Velvette said softly. “She’s afraid. Of disappointing you.”

Vox swallowed and carefully kissed the top of her head. “Honey, you know I love you. That won’t ever change, I promise.” He paused, “I know you’re too old to be carried, but if it hurts too much to walk.” 

To his surprise, his teenager leaned into him. As carefully as he could, he lifted her up into his arms.

“Don’t worry baby,” he said softly. “Daddy will always love you.”

[bowtiepastabitch]

Fandom Tumblr, Do Your Thing

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4.Wait for your art to arrive:)

OR

1.Reblog this post. You can literally just reblog this post. When her fundraiser is completed, I will pick 2-5 blogs from the notes (depending on how many rbs I get) to send you art completely for free. If you get picked, I will get in contact to get your information.

Full information, terms, conditions, et cetera, are further down. Please do read them before sending money.

~~~

Laura, aka PhoenixRose, is a mutual of mine and an incredible writer. She's a total sweetheart, and she's kind of adopted a lot of the Good Omens fandom and has really been a light in the community. She is unable to work due to cancer, so this fundraiser is to help ensure that her family has a safe and stable place to live. You can find out more about her lovely family and situation at the link or on her page<3

Rules and stuff: I live in the united states, so international shipping is a bit pricy. As such, the minimum to redeem a postcard is £5 for US addresses and £10 for all other addresses, in UK currency, with proof of payment in UK or your local currency. Higher donation amounts will get you more effort into your art, and for any donations over £50 I will break out the paints. You can click here to see some of the fanart I've done recently, though my higher quality original art doesn't usually end up on my blog so it may be a bit skewed as to representing my skill level. That said, I am an artist in the loosest sense of the term and really only do this for fun. Please don't expect professional results. Additionally, I am receiving no money whatsoever for this (stamps are out of my pocket), and it's important to me that you know that. I've already donated all I can afford to, so this is my broke bitch way of helping out a little more. If you get picked to get art for free, your dms will need to be turned on so I can reach you. If I am unable to get in contact with you via DMs or asks, that will be considered a forfeit.

*I really will draw just about anything, including characters, ocs, animals, your pets, your friends, your fursona, etc. No explicit NSFW please, suggestive is okay. I reserve the right to ask you to pick something different if the prompt makes me uncomfortable or is offensive in any way.

**I want to keep your information as safe as possible. As such, if you're not comfortable sending over dms I can provide you with my email address to send the information to. I am also open to sending it digital if you are in a position where you cannot currently receive physical mail or are uncomfortable doing so. All messages, emails, etc with personal information will be deleted as soon as your mail is on its way.

[sukioyakio]

MIGUEL O’Hara (Drabble)

Ok hear me out what about Miguel as a cod character,GODDDD my guy would fucking rock that military clothes.(not because I’m imaging him in ghost clothes.. no no I could never 😄)

Cod!miguel x Fem!reader

ARTIST OF THIS MASTERPIECE

(MR KRABS I HAVE AN IDEAAAAAAA‼️‼️‼️🗣️)

did not proread any of this but who cares 🤷‍♀️

Miguel is your upper rank,Your superior,the captain.You were his second in command,Always doing your job. Ever since you started here,you started at the military at the same time as Miguel did.You Always Wanted to get to know him better then his cold shoulders or his dirty looks.He wasn’t the “social type”you said,But the longer you were here with him,you having to work with him,He just an cold bastard;saying shit under his breath,in an different under his breath so you don’t understand what he’s saying,most of the time you would just think he’s insulting you.Easily making you rolls your eyes at his mouth.

BUT after some years (let say’s 2 years) the war was still going on,but it close to being over . . . Close to being over.And So here you are training the younger ranks,you were wearing your uniform without the armor stuff,(I’m too lazy to make details about the uniform),You had an serious face while teaching them how to defend themselves.But at times you broke that serious face and made jokes to lighten the mood.Most of the military members were just men who wanted to defend their country.

Until one of them suggests that we should fight eachother,like we have an mini battle with eachother and whoever wins all the battles wil have to fight you in the end.You had an amused look on your face,as you just watched the matches played though,until you met with the winner of the battles.

Miguel was watching from the shadows,getting more annoyed.He had an little obsession with you,an little.

[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Pt. 2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Part 1) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Warnings: Mature themes, depression, sadness, angst, fluff

Bucky woke up facing the wall. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know that if he turned around you wouldn't be there. He couldn't smell your perfume or hear your soft breath. He internally grimaced. So it would be like old times. They would pretend like nothing happened. 

He rolled over staring at the ceiling, images flashing of last nights events. Please don't leave me. Over and over in his brain. He bunched his fists and rubbed his face. 

Over in y/n's room she was doing the same thing. Staring at the ceiling wondering why she was so pathetic. She had totally freaked him out. What am I doing?

She sat up and pulled at her hair.

"Fuck" Today was going to be awkward. After her realization last night she wanted to die. 

"What am I even doing?" She threw the covers off and stood up when she heard a knock. She froze. I can't do this right now.

Someone knocked again. 

“Y/n, are you coming to train? I thought I was supposed to meet you down there.” Steve said. Oh thank god. 

“Yes. I’m sorry I overslept, give me five minutes, I’ll meet you down there.” You winced. 

“Sounds like a plan.” He laughed. 

You threw her clothes on and looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked rough. Eyes were a little swollen and blotchy, lines from the crinkled sheets were left on your forehead and cheek. 

“Just go train and come back. You won’t see him. He definitely doesn’t wanna see you-” Another knock sounded on the door. It had only been two minutes. Steve needed to chill.

“Doll.” Again, you froze. You held your breath and hoped the person on the other side wouldn't know you were there. 

“I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” Bucky said, he seemed exhausted. You closed your eyes and said nothing. 

“Don’t make me break down this door. Tony is gonna bitch at me if he has to fix another one” His joke was laced with a serious tone. You contemplated it and before you knew what you were doing you whipped open the door. He looked shocked. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. 

“Stop. I don’t need your help. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you last night but I promise it won’t happen again. Let’s pretend this never happened and we can go our separate ways.” You said cold and detached. 

“Y/n I can’t do tha-”

“I can’t do this.” 

“Do what?” You knew what he meant. He was asking if this meant talk or us. You both just stared at each other.

“Steve’s waiting for me.” You brushed past him and walked down the hall. As soon as you made it past him your facade broke. 

You sparred with Steve and he certainly didn’t go easy on you. Bruises littered your body from head to toe. A cut sliced through your eyebrow. You needed it though. You needed to feel strong. Taking on the super soldier was therapeutic. You knew you couldn’t beat him but you could hold your own. You headed to the kitchen grabbing the pitcher of orange juice and sat on the counter. Minding your own you just drank and swished it around your mouth. No thoughts plaguing your mind. Then Bucky walked in. He didn’t even look your way. He walked straight past, opening the fridge. You watched him waiting for him to pester you but it never came. 

He went to walk out of the kitchen and you thought you were in the clear until he stopped at the edge of the island. For some reason you wanted him to speak, you wanted him to tell you that it was okay. That you were going to be okay and whisper the sweet nothings you couldn't stop thinking about. You needed to feel his breath on your hair and the hum of his chest. 

You knew he was about to walk away. 

“Don’t.” you said and he turned his head the slightest bit just so you could make out the outline of his lips.  He waited for you to say more. 

“Don’t what?” Still not turning around. You sucked in the remaining air in the room and put down the pitcher. 

“Don’t leave me.” you whispered. You knew he could hear it when he turned around completely. 

“Please. Please don’t leave me.” Your eyes started to glaze over. Your voice cracking. He made long strides over to you and gathered you in his arms, standing between your legs. 

“Doll, I would never. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” He mumbled into your hair as he leld the back of your head. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. Please, forgive me. I know you’re only trying to help me. I was awf-”

“Y/n stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulled apart placing his hands on your shoulders. Your went to argue and he stopped you.

“I mean it. I’ll never leave you. Nothing you could do or say would make me leave you.” He put his metal fingers through his hair, raking it back. 

“God, y/n, don’t you see what you do to me. I physically can’t leave you. Every part of me belongs to you. My body is your body. Your mind is my mind. You are seared into my soul. If you leave me I think everything I have, everything I am would break.” His breath was ragged now. His chest falling and rising quickly. He stood only a few feet from you. 

“James.” 

“I’m sorry I had to tell you. Actually I’m not sorry-”

“Kiss me.” He froze. 

“James, kiss me.” He didn’t waste another second. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips on to your own. You wrapped your arms around him and hooked your legs around his waist. His hands found your neck and the other grabbed under your thigh pulling you closer. You grabbed the hair on the back of his neck and rested your forehead against his. Tears pricked in your eyes. 

“Tell me this is forever. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you need me like I need you.” He spoke softly. 

“I don’t” You looked him in the eyes. His face crumbled. You grabbed his chin.

“I need you so much more. I need you so much that I can’t breathe. I need you so much that when we are apart my heart physically hurts. I can’t think. I can’t eat.  I need you more than I need water. I need you so much that…” You trail off. It’s his turn to grab your hands on his face. 

“So much that what?” He urges you to go on.

“So much that I break down” You let a tear slip down your cheek. A look of anguish crosses his face. 

“You will never have to feel like that again. Doll, you scared me last night. I hated seeing you like that. In that moment I knew I would hurt anyone who dared hurt you. I would fight every monster in your dreams. I would kill for you” You knew that he wasn't lying. 

“So I beg you y/n. Please, god, please. Please don't leave me” 

Let me know what you think! This is my first time writing. Should I turn this into a series and add everything that led up to this?

[am-i-interrupting]

Okay I don’t know if you are accepting requests or suggestions but can I ask for a one shot or something of like what happens between Vox and reader from the one author, two host series when alastor returns. Like what would happen and I feel like Vox would be FOMING at the mouth from anger because he knows how much pain it caused reader and all doesn’t even tell them where he was

Went Away | OATSH

Vox had long since regretted saving Valentino’s pathetic little soul. He could have and should have found someone else to be the head of the porn industry. Unfortunately, with the deal they’d made, Vox couldn’t harm the man unless he broke the confines of their contract. Valentino toed the line, most certainly, but he hadn’t yet broken it.

Velvette was complaining about one of her models being scared shitless by Valentino and having some of her work torn up but no harm had actually come to any of them. That was always the thing, always the line he just barely stayed in.

He couldn’t hurt anyone without justifiable cause. That is what was in his contract. He could scare, he could manipulate, he could yell, but he couldn’t hurt.

Vox walked into Valentino’s office.

“Fucking finally!” the man yelled. “Kitty, another drink! Can you believe what that piece of shit did?! The ungrateful whore!”

Vox side stepped the glass that had been thrown his way. “Which whore are we talking about this time?”

“Fucking Angel Dust, who the hell else would I be talking about?”

Vox leaned away from Valentino as the man breached his space. Many answers to that question raced into his mind. Too many sex workers, too many models, too many people on the street, himself, once you. Only once had Valentino called you a whore. Never again.

“That fucking slut walked out on me. Me. I made him! Without me he’s just a bag of meat with some mildly entertaining holes.”

Vox had gotten out his phone while Valentino went on his rampage. He felt himself relax just a bit, a small smile coming to his lips as he saw a message from you.

Sorry about leaving early this morning. Star called. Stuff came up. Fixing some roofing. Hate this time of year.

His soft smile though changed from soft to hopeful.

“Angel Dust quit?” he asked.

He was hoping for a yes. You’d be so ecstatic if he finally was able to quit. That was another reason for him to hate the fact that he saved Valentino; the fact that Valentino had a contract neither of you knew about beforehand and under Angel’s contract, he could do whatever he wanted and it would be seen as justifiable.

“No, he didn’t fucking quit. It’s worse.” Valentino grabbed Vox’s phone from his hand and threw it against the wall. “He moved!”

Vox hadn’t even been able to text you back.

“He thinks he can just walk in here, work, and then go home somewhere else? Can you fucking believe that? He thinks he can just run off and shack up with Lucifer’s bimbo daughter.”

“Angel is living with Lucifer’s daughter now?”

You’d be happy to know about that at least.

“Yeah, that bitch. Chalky or Chandler or something manish like that,” he said as he opened up his closet. “She’s got this hotel and— which of these makes me look sexier?”

Anyone else. He would have let the man go in a rampage, break their contract, and discard him if it was anyone but her. Had it been anyone else other than Lucifer’s daughter, Vox would have let him.

“What are you doing, Val?” he asked, venom entering his voice before his eye began to spiral. “You’re not going over there.”

“That slippery twink is going to remember who owns him. I’m going to fuck everyone in that rancid hotel, I swear to god,” Valentino continued, ignoring him.

Vox scowled to himself before he grabbed Valentino’s wings and pulled him close, his face brightening so the man could actually see him.

“Val!” He laughed before he smoothed his wings back into their coat-like shape. “Think about it. My brand is perfection. What do you think chasing whores around town would do for my image?” He grabbed the gun from Valentino’s hand.

“Uh, fuck it up?”

Vox played a game show ringing as he said, “Right! Do you want people thinking I can’t control my employees and that you can’t control yours?”

“No.”

“Exactly! And, hey—“ Vox knew you would hate what he said next— “you still have him under contract. He’s not going anywhere. So, you should. . .?”

“Do nothing?”

“Great idea!” Vox pulled Valentino down into to put his arm around his shoulders as more game show sound effects played. “Now that’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“But I really wanted to shoot someone,” Valentino said as he pulled out his cigarette. “You never let me have any fun anymore.”

Vox lit the cigarette with the tip of his claw. “Well, let me pull out my wife’s hit list. Let you have a go at some of them, hmm?”

“Aw,” Valentino said with a chuckle, “you know me too well.”

Of course Vox did. He had to. The man was practically a child most days. He constantly questioned how he could have been so stupid as to have let him live. Regardless, it was a choice he now had to live his second life with.

He twisted his wedding ring with his thumb as he summoned a new phone.

Don’t worry about it. Turf wars are always a hassle. I get it and know by now you’re always busy this time of year. We all are. When you get a sec, can you send me some people on your list? Valentino’s being a piss baby again, as Vel so eloquently put it.

“You know, Angel isn’t the only one spending time at this ratty hotel with the devil’s princesa,” Valentino said after taking a draw of his cigarette.

When is he not?

“Oh, who else is there?” Vox asked as he opened the document you’d sent him. “Someone who owes you money?”

Valentino laughed once again. “Someone who owes us much more than money. The Radio Demon is there.”

Vox collapsed on himself as he tensed. His claws dug through the metal of the desk, breaking his phone as he did so. His entire body sparked with electricity.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice coming out distorted as he turned to Valentino, his eye spiraling as red pixels began spilling from his mouth.

“You heard me.”

Oh, he was going to kill Valentino, contract be damned.

“Alastor, my wife’s father—“ he glitched— “is back and he is with Lucifer’s daughter instead of his own—“ he glitched again— “and that wasn’t the first fucking thing you told me?!” he pulled Valentino down to his height as sparks flew off his body and his voice raised to a yell.

“Hey, Alastor missing is your problem,” Valentino said as he walked to the computer desk and pressed a button.

A distorted feed came up on the screen. Vox immediately teleported to the desk, leaning as close as he could to make out every detail of the scene.

He could make out the blonde hair of Lucifer’s daughter, the white fur of Angel Dust, and the extra distorted figure that Vox knew from previous videotapes to be Alastor.

He snarled, a full growl come from his mouth. His claws dug all the way through the desk. His breathing started to quicken.

Vaguely, in his subconscious mind, he registered an anger at a different thing. Alastor was torturing someone and he hadn’t told you? He hadn’t invited you? He always had before.

He didn’t even register Valentino’s words. He didn’t find any amusement in the squeaks that came from the man like he normally would. All he could focus on was Alastor walking away from the hotel.

“Vox? Vox!” Valentino called out, finally breaking him from his trance.

“That fucker is back!”

“Yeah, I thought he was gone for good tooAfter seven years!”

“You still pissed he almost beat you that time?” Valentino grabbed the corner of Vox’s screen. Vox pushed him off, still sparking. “Ow!”

“Fuck off!”

Vox’s breath started coming out harshly as he began to spiral.

How was he going to tell you? How dare Alastor? Oh, sure, Vox was the problem. He was trying to steal you from Alastor when it was Alastor who left you for seven years without a word, not even telling you goodbye or where he was going or when he came back.

He hadn’t been there. Did he not know what pain he caused you? The worry, the tears, the depression. You had been a mess those first couple months. Did he not think you would be effected by his sudden disappearance? Was he really, truly that stupid?

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re really this peeved?” Valentino said.

Vox ignored him as he walked out of the room to his own office.

Valentino pouted as he watched the door close. Then he went to pick up Vox’s phone to look at that list only to see the screen cracked and back scratched.

“Fuuuck!” he said as he threw his head back. He picked up his gun that had been left behind as well and shot a hole through the wall.

Vox pulled up your vitals on his screen. You knew he had them. He monitored them as well as your location through the ring on your finger and you had access to his own through the same.

There was a stark difference in how often the two of you looked at them though. Yours got pulled up multiple times a day while his only got pulled up a few times every couple months.

That was alright though. You knew he could be possessive but more than that, you knew how often he worried.

He quickly found and quickly sent a dispatch of construction workers that way before he went there himself.

You didn’t even flinch when he knelt behind you and draped himself over his back. After so many decades, it’d become second nature to know when the other was around. What did concern you was how tightly he held you.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice ever so slightly distorted with some filter. “Alone.”

You turned, unafraid of falling off the roof in his grasp. You held his screen between your hands. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t even have time to blink before you were in the tower with him.

“You said that Hustler came to see you the other day, right?”

“Husk, but yes,” you said. “Is everything okay? Is he alright?”

“Did you ask him why?” Vox asked.

“I— Yes, it was that advertisement. I didn’t have time to look it over. I just gave it to your assistant,” you told him. “He didn’t give me porn or something, did he? That doesn’t sound like him but he said he lost a game, had to be the one to bring it to me.”

“So you didn’t watch the commercial? Neither did I. How about we watch it together, hm?”

“Okay,” you said, the word coming out slowly, hesitantly.

You didn’t sit as he didn’t either. The television just came on.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a woman you vaguely recognized said.

She had white hair done in Hollywood waves that contrasted her grey skin. She wore dress that was somewhat reminiscent of a 50s dress and a large hat with floral elements. Across thAngel Dust in a pink and white suit, wearing pink gloves that he used to blow a kiss to the camera. In front of him was Niffty in a classic flapper dress. Then Husk drinking beside her.

None of that is what caught your attention however. What did was the distorted person beside Husk, back turned to the camera but you recognized him.

Immediately your eyes widened as your nose and eyes began to sting. You bit your lip to contain a scream as your breath began to quicken.

You had mourned him.

You mourned him! You’d done it once in life and now once in death and for what?! Why did you have to mourn him when he was right there?! He was there!

You took off your shoe and threw it at the television. Then did the same with the other. The screen broke, cracked. The TV fell to the floor.

“That bastard!” you yelled. “Fucking shit ass!”

You screamed so loud that is caused Vox to wince but still he wrapped his arms around you. You collapsed against him and banged on his chest. Not enough to hurt him but enough to get out your frustration. He just pulled you closer.

Vark stood in the doorway, looking at Vox. His tail was drooped and he was hunched down. Vox slowly lowered you both to the ground and gestured for Vark to come.

He did. He butted his head against your back. He kept his head against your skin as he moved between the two of you. On instinct, you put your hand between Vark’s eyes and Vox put his right at the base of his spines. Vark moved and licked your face. You didn’t smile like you normally would.

“What do you want me to do?” Vox asked.

You stayed silent for a moment, hand moving back and forth on Vox’s simultaneously rough and smooth skin. Then, “Make him wish he’d stayed gone.”

You stood and went to your wardrobe. Vox followed as you threw a more official outfit on the bed. Then you went to the bathroom and fixed your makeup or rather, tried to. Your hands shook to much for you to do it properly.

Vox picked up your phone and sent a message to Velvette.

Get your ass here now. -V

He didn’t know how to apply makeup but after years of living with two people who did, he at least learned how to take it off.

When Velvette arrived, it was no secret. “What the hell happened here? What the fuck’s going on?”

“The Radio Demon’s back,” Vox said.

“Oh, well, shit,” she said. “Alright then, move aside, Voxy. I’m gonna give our gal some revenge makeup and you go make a script for you stupid show.”

“Top of the hour,” Vox said as he spun in his chair to face the camera, “and we’re discussing a certain hazbin who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence. Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight’s program!”

The headline read, “Dud Dad Back From Getting Milk”

Across the screen, “So the radio guy’s back. I don’t think you noticed. I didn’t at first- I was too busy being present in my wife’s life but fuck it, news is slow today, I guess. I just want to go home to see my beautiful wife and tell her about where I’ve been even though she knows where I am because I tell her about my plans before fucking off.”

“Fucking hell!” Husk yelled, catching the attention of everyone in the hotel.

“Aw, after so many years I can still startle you? How cute,” you said as you leaned your head on your hand with a smirk that immediately made him uneasy.

You were wearing a black cropped turtle neck with a pair of slightly baggy jeans, an oversized jacket that clearly was not yours with its light and dark blue stripes and pinkish-red interior. Your legs were crossed and revealed your heeled black boots. Your hair was down in loose, natural curls but your makeup was anything but with a dark smokey eye and dark nude lipstick.

“Oh, he fucked up,” Husk said as he grabbed a bottle and moved out from behind the bar.

“Um, okay,” the princess said. “Hi, I’m Charlie and you are?”

“Not here for you,” you said as you moved to take Husk’s place behind the bar.

“And who are you here for?” Charlie asked.

The television flickering on gave you no reason to answer her. Instead you mixed a cocktail as all eyes turned to the TV screen.

“So, the Radio Demon is back in town,” Vox said on the screen. “Why’s he hanging around? What does that mean for your family? Well, handily I’ve got good news. The guy’s a loser, an absent and I don’t mean to sound arrogant but he’s a really shitty parent. That one’s real apparent.

“He used to go on and on about how I’d be the one gone yet he’s the one who said so long. I’m right here, never fear. I plan on staying even when raining. I’m not afraid of things changing. So if you can’t update, maybe relocate. Go on a va-cay and stay the fuck away.

“He clung onto radio, we pivoted to video. Now his medium has gotten bloody rare. We’ve been better since he split. Where’s he been? Who gives a shit!”

The radio crackled to life. “Salutations, good to be back on the air.”

You took a long sip of your cocktail as you heard his voice for the first time in seven years. The glass nearly cracked in your hands.

“Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with style has treated Hell to a broadcast. Sinners, rejoice!”

“What a dated voice.”

“Instead of a clout-chasin' mediocre video podcast.”

“Come on!”

“Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure. Going for small blows towards the pros, is it really working?”

“It’s better than your chirping!”

“Every day, he's got a new insult while still thinking everything wrong is his fault.”

“You’re looking at the one who stayed! He’s the one who went away!”

“Is Vox as strong as he purports or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without that pretty ring.”

“Oh, tell us a new thing!”

“Fine, let’s try something new. I know things you haven’t been through. Nothing you say has any sway. I’ve always been here, never on va-cay. I’m still in charge. Always been here on the charts. So if you’ve got something to say, go ahead then go away. I haven’t got all day.”

“You were gone far too long. She mourned and now she’s scorned. Wished you’d never been born. So why don’t you follow through with this amazing news and tell us what you’ve been through. Better hurry or just scurry ‘cause this picture’s getting blurry. Buffering from our furry. Go ahead and have your say or go away like seven years ago that day.”

The radio clicked off.

Vox stayed panting for a moment, hands gripping the desk tightly. Then his breathing slowed and he sat back down. He restacked his papers.

“Guess he didn’t have much to say so he’s gone and went away. Nothing new. It’s old news. He’s gone once again so soon.”

The television flickered off.

Husk sunk into the couch. Niffty looked over to you with her wide eye. Angel looked down at your ring and then back at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Charlie still stood where she’d been when she came to greet you but she now rung her fingers together.

“Well, I suppose not all broadcasts are a success,” Alastor’s voice said as he came downstairs. “Regardless,” he clapped his hands together then he saw you. “My dear! There you are.”

You simply glared at him as you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Where is that darling smile of yours? You know you’re—“

“Where did you go?”

“Oh, what does that matter? I’m back now, aren’t I?” he said.

“You’re such a,” your voice trailed off as you looked down at your drink. “I cried for you.”

You thought back to late nights as a child where your father held you, whispering about his childhood in the vaguest of ways, making promises to never do you the same way.

“You promised I’d never have to do that,” you said. “You promised me the only reason I’d ever cry for you would be when you died. You’re not dead.”

“You know that my intention would never be to—“

“That doesn’t matter, Alastor!” you said.

His ears actually flicked back. You’d never done that before. You had never called him by his name.

A small part of you as happy with getting a hurt reaction from him.

You threw the glass at him. He didn’t side step it. It hit his newly tailored coat, glass breaking and liquid staining it. He didn’t even flinch.

“Fuck you, Alastor! Fuck you,” you said as you walked out of the hotel, slamming the door.

“I appear to have done something wrong,” Alastor said as he brushed the glass off his clothing, holding back a wince as his hand moved some caught in his skin.

“You think?” Husk said.

Alastor stared at where you had been before he spun around and went back upstairs.

“I’ve never seen her that angry before,” Niffty said softly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

[movedtodykedvonte]

What games I think the ATVS cast has on their phones if you were to ask them:

Miles: Those paint by color games but also somehow Minecraft Java cause that’s how it is in his universe. Most intricate and beautiful pixel art known to man on those worlds but is dog shit at making them in the computer.

Rio: 2048 cause she thinks it stimulates the mind and wants to have something in common with Miles and thinks it’s improving her math skills. Also cut the rope cause the alien is cute.

Jefferson: Classic solitaire or Wordscapes. Goes to Miles constantly when he can’t figure out a word or move and brags about how Miles is for getting a word like Suspect.

Miguel: Every single candy crush, at the highest current level and logged into Facebook to save his streak. So much gold cause he never loses a level and one time he did he broke down and banned candy for a week.

Peter: The most obscure like bottom of the barrel game you see on those tik toks. Charge phone simulator or he literally turns the internet off and plays the Dino game cause he’s too poor to afford the gigs for game space.

Mayday: Those fake phones from Claire’s that play the little jingles but she drooled on it and shorted the battery so it just sound like the wails of the damned.

Gwen: Girl has PianoTiles un ironically and pirated geometry dash. She can play both with her eyes closed. Also that hairstyling game that she may or may not use to choose her next hair color.

Hobie: Doesn’t believe in phones due to governments stealing ur data and uses a cup and string he throws through a portal to talk to the others instead.

Pavitr: Cookie run kingdom but his kingdom has the most cluttered design to mimick Mumbattun. Worst team set ups of your life. Also one random virtual pet game that he takes way too seriously

Margo: Episode and Bitlife but she hacks Episode for diamonds cause she ain’t gonna have her characters act or look like raggedy bitches

Jess: Candy crush but not a freak like Miguel. Probably has Farm life too. Only plays them at night in bed like that one image of Peter Griffin

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.7

In which nobody is happy and everything is pain

Wuh oh, the worst chapter of Taylor's life has just received a series of footnotes that provide further context, and none of them are making her feel any better

And now things are getting even worse

Hey Colin, looks like you've lost some weight, trying something new with the asymmetrical look?

Also I like how even Taylor's paranoid ass is like "no you know what, they didn't need to know Sophia was a superhero for them to fuck me over"

Really copping it up in here, huh you two?

This is bad for everybody. A supervillain who's taken explicit actions against the PRT and Protectorate has discovered the identity of a Ward, and a teenage girl is being surrounded and lambasted by adults who could make her life Hell with very little effort.

God, Birdcage would be nightmarish, especially with Lung in there probably nursing the mother of all grudges

Also, interesting that Taylor changing her mind translates to Armsmaster as her being a master manipulator and spinner of lies. There's no possible way that she stopped trying to be a hero because he acted like a gigantic asshole the second time they met or something.

Skitter has gotten the absolute worse perspective that the heroes can offer, so she's suffering a biased stance here, but even without that her anti-authority streak is way too strong to tolerate it for long

Don't throw a fucking shitfit, Colin

You're an adult, fucking act like one

Yaaaaaaay, the crew's alright and they're backing Skitter up, there's no way this immediately blows up

Grue is making himself look bigger in this moment, scarier, more authoritative. If I'm understanding right that means he's way on the fucking edge about all of this and feeling tense and a little scared.

Glad Regent got out of it with only some stitches, wonder if that cut is anything noteworthy or if he just got gouged by some glass or shrapnel or something

Bitch is handling things about as well as could be expected

Hey Tattletale, glad you're not dead

Oh boy!

Sophia would fucking lunge across the tent and go for the murder attempt then and there, I'm pretty sure

Also, Legend is technically right, insofar as Taylor has made a lot of situations more difficult by digging her heels in

Unfortunately, he would.

Look at her getting her little debut to the Protectorate leader

The greatest asset and weakness of the Protectorate: image

These people are about to get their shit rocked by a teenager with access to a PA system and I'm not convinced they didn't bring this on themselves

Also, love an ultimatum, very heroic

Tattletale you're so cool and real for this

We love an ultimatum, very villainous

Colin, you dumbfuck

I think the most damning part of this conversation is that Miss Militia literally doesn't have any trouble connecting the dots

There's the setup

And there's the knockdown. Armsmaster has once again been outplayed by a teenager, and now the best thing to do is probably to quit while he's behind

So of course he decides to double and triple down

Let's review facts here

Armsmaster is a grown-ass man who is really upset that a pack of teenagers are beating him

He has admitted, out loud, that he broke truce conditions and got villains killed in order to try and get a moment of glory

He knows full well that at least two of the Undersiders have killed before and may kill again if suitably motivated, such as, I don't know, finding out a teammate tried to betray them

So with everything in consideration

he throws a tantrum that could get a girl killed because of wounded pride

This hurts, a lot

Also hey early hint that Tattletale knows what's up

Panacea like "wow this girl is some kind of disaster, thank god my worldview guarantees that I'm way better than her"

Also Jesus fucking Christ what a way to end the chapter

Current Thoughts

God fucking dammit Colin, you could literally get a teenager killed because you had to throw a fucking tantrum over how you got your kill stolen and your super cool plan to win glory and recover lost pride got foiled by the common fucking sense of "you can't kill an Endbringer"

I know that isn't what happens, but hey guess what he doesn't know Taylor's story goes for another twenty-plus chapters, he's willing to roll those dice because his feewings got huwt

I hope they make him choke on whatever book ends up thrown at him for this