#unbeta’d we die like men

[buckymorelikefuckme]

so while sitting at the golf range, i saw a man walk by with his dog—a dilf type of man—and it got me thinking…

ari levinson x fem reader

idk the word count bc i wrote it on here but it’s not too long, i promise! **18+ ONLY** for implied size kink and mentions of praise kink and illusions to filthy thoughts ok thank ♡

you huff and stomp your foot after swinging and missing the ball, yet again. why is golf so hard? and why is the ball so tiny? it hardly seems fair to have a club that long and such a small target to hit.

you try to focus and remember what little you learned before coming to the range, but it’s sweltering out and you’re frustrated, so all you want to do is throw your club as far as possible. at least then you’d get something on the green.

someone clears their throat from behind you.

“what?” you snap as you spin on your heel, the glare you had ready to aim at the person smoothing out quickly once you see them.

it’s a man, tall and broad and tanned and very shirtless, torso glistening with sweat amidst the hair on his chest. his shaggy hair is tied back messily and his cheeks are ruddy beneath his beard from the heat.

“hi,” the man greets with a grin that has your tummy fluttering. “i was walking by,” he continues, waving at the sidewalk several yards away (which is another thing—what’s with golf courses being in the middle of neighborhoods?!) and you feel slight shame at having been caught throwing a fit. “saw you were having some trouble and thought maybe i could offer my help.”

you bite your lip. “that’s kind of embarrassing,” you mumble.

he shrugs. “everyone has to start somewhere.”

and that’s… actually very true and also terribly kind of him to say, so you agree to let him give you some pointers. he tries by just telling you how to fix your stance and your grip, all from a respectable distance, even going as far as showing you by mimicking it and how to follow through on your swings. but after you still keep missing the ball entirely or only hitting it a few feet and veering sharply to the right, he clicks his tongue, pursing his lips in thought.

“would you be okay if i show you in a more, uh, hands on way?” he asks.

you simply shake your head in response, because if you opened your mouth right now you’d probably start begging, and not just for golfing tips.

he approaches calmly, stepping up behind you. his body heat in proximity to yours doesn’t help with the summer sun beating down on both of you, but you can’t find it in you to really complain, especially as you hear him take a breath before he finally wraps his toned arms around you.

“left hand here,” he instructs, voice low in your ear, “right hand below it, yes, there you go. keep this arm straight, okay? like this.”

he does a few fake swings with you, his hands wrapped around yours. it’s damn near impossible to pay attention, but you’re really trying your best. mostly.

“okay, now, keep your eyes on the ball when you swing. don’t look out to where you want it go, just keep looking down at the ball. alright?”

you turn your head, looking up and meeting his eyes and your breath hitches when you exhale. he’s so big, easily dwarfing you with how close he is to you, the smell of his sweat hitting your nose and, instead of finding it gross, you find that it has you wanting to clench your thighs together.

“eyes on the ball,” he repeats, sounding a lot more gruff than before. it’s hard, but you tear your gaze away and do as he says. “good. feet shoulder width apart. that’s perfect.”

you fight a shiver and bite your lip again. this is not the time or place for your praise kink to kick in.

“i’m gonna let go and step back, then you can swing. okay?”

you nod, holding your stance and waiting for the all-clear, and when you get it you take a deep breath and slowly let it out, following what he’s told you and swinging… and you hit it straight down the green! it doesn’t go too far, but it’s the furthest you’ve hit a ball yet, and you let out a shocked, happy laugh.

“oh my god, i did it!” you giggle, bouncing on your toes and spinning to face him, catching his stare snapping up from your ass to your face. you’re suddenly extremely happy you chose some of your tightest athletic shorts.

“that was great,” he praises with a smile.

you let out another giggle, this one a bit higher in pitch from your nerves. “thanks for your help. i really appreciate it.”

“it’s no problem at all, i’m happy it paid off.”

“is there any way i could repay you?” you blurt, not wanting to miss the chance at extending your time with him, also not wanting to come across as too eager and missing by a mile.

he hums teasingly, pretending to think about it, then smirks. “how about we start with lunch?” he suggests, eyes roving down your body and back up. “and then i can give you another tip.”

he winks and you burst into even more giggles at the terrible joke, but you can’t even be mad about it. he looks quite pleased with himself at the sound of your laughter.

(and then, later, he looks smug as fuck at the sounds of your absolute ruin by him.)

…OKAY BYE😬😇😅😂♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[ghoulishneeds]

✧ ─𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓁𝑒─ ✧

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✧𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You unwittingly accept the same bounty as Cooper. Things go sideways in a shootout and Cooper decides to teach ya a lesson

✧𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Cooper Howard x F!Reader

✧𝒞𝒲: dubcon, choking, spanking, language, smut, irradiated creampie, unbeta’d we die like men

✧𝒲𝒞: 4.6K+

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You adjusted the bag, heavy on your right shoulder. Relief washed through you as you hit the top of a dune and saw the next town.

Not far at all. If you were right, he was in the town.

You approached the makeshift gate protecting the town, and the armed guard stepped out of his shack. The guy was so tanked he was barely standing. He barely even looked you up and down before opening the gate.

Top-notch security.

You pressed on through the town. It was relatively late, with firelight illuminating the majority of the square. Some vendors were still open, trying to push their wares on newcomers and bartering with regulars.

Making your way through the crowd, questioning a few people here and there, you were careful not to raise any suspicion. An old man selling rusted Vault-Tec equipment told you about a few faces he hadn’t seen before, headed towards the bar. Thanking him, you scanned the streetline. The bar sat on the far end of the town, against the other gate.

Perfect. Easy out.

Discreetly reloading your pistol and reholstering it, you headed towards the bar.

You pushed the half-broken door open and the smell of cigarette smoke and concentrated liquor hit you. You sat at the nearest corner of the bar and ordered a drink. While the bartender poured your drink, your eyes scanned the faces in the bar. You tilted the glass back, the room-temperature liquor burning your throat on the way down.

A sharp laugh pulled your eyes towards a table near the back. A short, heavy-set man was throwing back a beer and telling an elaborate story.

The target.

You watched him for a moment, making the decision that it would definitely be easier the drunker he got. You settled in, ordering a second drink.

Turning the drink back and setting the glass back down, you looked around again.

There was an interesting blend of people in here, not surprising considering the top-tier security.

There was a table closer to you, where raiders were sharing drinks and discussing the towns they’d hit. The couple next to you at the bar appeared to be older-model synths.

Your eyes passed them to land on a man at the end of the bar. Even with the shadow cast by the brim of his cowboy hat, you could tell he was a ghoul.

You looked him over. Wearing tattered cowboy attire, he looked very pre-war, you thought to yourself. Hell, he even had spurs on. Radioactive cowboy. The thought made you smirk.

When your eyes moved back to his face, he was looking back at you. You almost jumped. His face was unreadable. His eyes burned into you and you let yourself look over his features for a brief second. You could see where he may have been handsome before. Save a horse ride a cowboy. You looked him up and down. His brow furrowed and you quickly shifted your eyes away. The negative expression almost made you embarrassed.

You kicked back the rest of your drink, the alcohol buzzing under your skin, warm. You could still feel the man’s eyes on you and you chanced a glance back at him.

His eyes were on your hip, where your pistol sat in its holster. Apprehension started hitting your system. It was never a good thing when someone looked a little too close at your gun, and he looked pissed.

His eyes flickered back to your face and you held his gaze. His eyes were almost the same color as the liquor filling the cup in your hand. Hm, pretty. The thought slipped through your mind.

There was movement at his waist and your eyes dropped down.

He had shifted the tattered coat back, the revolver at his hip very visible now. Your brow furrowed as you processed what he was silently conveying.

And it clicked.

Bounty hunter.

You huffed a sigh, frustrated. He was here for the same fucking bounty. You turned your attention back to the bartender and ordered another drink, quickly finishing it.

You needed to regroup. This was a fucking problem. A bounty THIS big? It was going to come down to more than one body on the ground, and you’d be damned if it was yours.

You just had to get to him first.

You glanced at the other bounty hunter again. He wasn’t looking at you anymore and you let your thoughts slow down for a second.

Worried if you left the bar, the ghoul would just take the target right there in the middle of it. Worried if you got in the way, you’d be taken out.

The problem rectified itself when the man staggered towards the bar to clear out his tab. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he leaned over the bar to toss caps at the tender. Your eyes caught the ghoul’s through the man’s arms and your heart rate jumped.

The man and his friends stumbled their way out of the bar. You took the small opportunity and blended into their group, moving with them out of the bar. You split off slightly to the right and followed from a small distance.

Making sure to keep the bar in your peripheral, watching for the break of light that would announce the ghoul’s exit from the establishment.

They made their way towards an inn across the street from the bar. This end of the street was relatively desolate, save for a few drunks and the occasional stray.

You made the quick decision that it was now or never. You drew your pistol, intending to just take his friends out with him. Solve the whole problem. You aimed and pressed your finger over the trigger. Before you could pull, a shot rang out and metal flew past your left ear. You whipped around, gun pointed at the source.

The ghoul.

You locked eyes with the other bounty hunter, your heart racing as you both stood ready with your weapons drawn. He was lean, holding the revolver one-handed. You struggled to keep your breath steady.

The tension had a physical weight to it.

The group behind you drew their own weapons in response to the shot. Another shot sounded from behind you and you took the chance, firing at the other bounty hunter. The bullet hit him square on, but the only thing he did was shift with the impact.

Gunfire exploded around you and chaos erupted.

Dirt and smoke made it nearly impossible to see in the already dim fire-lit street. You cut your losses. There was no fucking way you were making it out of the shootout without at least getting maimed. Can’t make money if you’re fucking incapacitated.

You peeled off from the violence, skirting the fence line. Finding a gap in the sheets of metal, you paused, glancing back.

The shots were slowing now, only one or two being fired in the last minute. You could only see his outline, but even with that, you could tell he was facing you. Panicked breath pushed out of you and you squeezed through the gap.

You hauled ass through the desert.

“Fuck. FUCK.” You gritted your teeth, fucking furious. At the interruption and at yourself for high-tailing it out of there. Sighing, you drew your gun, going to reload it out of habit. You dropped the magazine out and frowned at it. You laughed. It sounded empty. No need to reload; you’d pussied out and only fired one bullet. You jammed the mag back in and reholstered it. Rolling your eyes, you pressed on.

There was another town to the east. Not far. Maybe a day and a half’s walk. The plus-side of the wasteland and this line of work, business was usually booming.

You made your way towards the town, moving for most of the night. You traveled as far as you could before exhaustion began to set in. You kicked up more sand and moved slower, tiredness making you sluggish.

Against an outcrop, you set up a small makeshift camp. You wrestled with the decision to light a fire or not, but the cold mixing with the ache in your muscles pushed you to take the risk. You were fairly confident you could handle any radroaches it might attract. You settled down onto your sleeping mat and watched the flames for a while before sleep weighed your eyelids down and you slipped away.

Your sleep was dreamless, warm and grey.

There was a sound nearby, but you couldn’t identify it.

Shink, shink.

It was a slow, repetitive sound that gently pulled you out of sleep.

You opened your eyes to the flames, blinking sleepily until the blurred image became identifiable.

Shink.

It was a slow metallic sound.

A knife?

You jolted upright, your head snapping towards the sound. Hot panic overrode any remaining grogginess when your eyes focused on him.

The ghoul.

He was sitting on one of the rocks to the right of your mat, knees bent, sharpening the blade that belonged in the empty holster on one side of his hip. His eyes were dark, reflecting the firelight, watching you.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” His voice was a heavy drawl, sinking under your skin.

You tensed, your heart racing, adrenaline surging through you as you scanned your surroundings for an escape route. The ghoul just watched you, sharpening the knife while eyeing you up. His face was neutral, if not almost amused.

Keeping your eyes on his, your hand moved for your pistol and connected with your hip. Cold fear hit you and you dropped your gaze to your hip. It wasn’t just the gun. The whole holster was gone. You looked back up and he was holding the pistol.

“You were looking for this, darlin’?” He tilted his head, smirking. Your eyes jumped between him and the gun.

“You ran off so fast I couldn’t thank you properly for the hole you put in me,” his voice was honeyed, raspy. Dark eyes burned into you and his face set into a frown. Fear pumped through you.

“You followed me out here to settle the score?” you asked. You weren’t honestly surprised. You shouldn’t have stopped for the night; you should’ve pushed on to the town.

Fuck.

The ghoul chuckled, a low rasp almost. “Well, darlin’, I certainly couldn’t let you put a bullet in me and think you were just gonna trot off into the sunset.” He looked at you like it was obvious. Like you should have known he’d follow you out into the desert. Track you like an animal.

You mentally sped through your options. Stay put and you were definitely getting killed, run and there was a chance. Your eyes cut to the left, a clear path over the outcrop. You tensed, getting ready to move the second you had a chance. When you looked back at the ghoul, he was leaning back, your pistol on his knee.

“Oh, sweetheart, I gotta tell ya,” he stood, grinning now. “I like it when they run.”

You bolted. Kicking sand up behind you in the scramble to get up right. Adrenaline flooded through you, prompting your legs to move faster. You scrambled over the outcrop and hesitated. Your stomach dropped at the sight in front of you. The desert went on as far as you could see, in a flat barren smear of orange across the landscape. No cover.

Doesn't matter. You've got to move. You started moving again but your moment of hesitation closed the distance between the two of you.

A sharp glance over your shoulder as you scrambled down the side of the dune showed you just how close he'd been to you. You furrowed your brow. He definitely could've gotten you from a five foot distance, what was he doing?

Your feet hit flat sand and you surged forward. You hear the sand behind you but didn't bother turning, not risking it.

I like it when they run.

He himself wasn't moving particularly fast. It was almost frustrating, just enough to keep you on edge.

The thoughts that rolled through your head were cut off by a sharp sound. A whine?

You were yanked backwards quite suddenly. Kicking and thrashing as you were dragged back by the rope.

The sound had been the rope cutting through the air. A lasso. A fucking lasso?

I like when they run.

Ah.

It's a game to him.

You grit your teeth and tried to pull against the rope, but it's held firm. Panic started to set in as you felt yourself being dragged across the hot sand. Your captor was moving slowly, almost lazily, the realization that you were being toyed with setting in.

"Let me go!" You growled and attempted to kick in his general direction. He just laughed in response. It was a low and mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. He tugged the rope again, jolting you.

"Afraid I can't do that," he says, his words playful despite the tension in the situation.

As you continued to struggle against the rope, the ghoul seemed amused, smirking as he stood over you. A boot planted on the ground, on either side of your hips.

You rolled over on to your back and glared up at him, eyes narrowed against the sun.

He smirked down at you, a hand placed on his hip. He let a bag, that’d been slung over his shoulder hit the ground, tossing your pistol and holster with it.

"I've still gotta thank you for that bullet sweetheart." His voice shot through you. A thick drawl dripping with something you couldn't place.

You scoffed and spit sand at him. "You're welcome for the fuckin' free ammo," you hissed, your voice laced with defiance.

His eyes lit up at that. Like a switch flipped.

He dropped to his knees, so that he was effectively straddling you. Your eyes widened and you bucked your hips in an attempt to get him off of you.

He placed a hand against your stomach and shoved you back into the sand. He took both of your wrists in his hand and wrapped the rope around them. Tying it off in some intricate knot you’d never seen.

You glared at your now bound wrists and snapped your gaze back to him. Much closer now. He leaned back, still straddling your hips, lazily bringing his gaze to meet yours.

You held his gaze defiantly. His eyes were still very human. Amber and whiskey. Almost…pretty. The thought passed you again.

The exertion from struggling against the rope had left you panting, chest heaving.

He studied you for a moment, almost as if sizing you up. Then, he leaned down again, his breath hot on your neck.

"I think we're gonna have some fun, sweetheart."

A shiver rolled through you, hips shifting subconsciously. He raised his eyebrows, smirking.

You yanked against the ropes again, another attempt to pull yourself free from them. He chuckled, his breath hot on your neck. Leaning back again, he took the rope binding your wrist in his hand, and yanked it forward. You were jerked up off the sand, forced into an almost sitting position. The movement pulled you even with him, forcing you closer.

You tried to jerk away, turning your face the other direction. “It’s not like it even fuckin did anything.” Your voice sounded distant. Low, raspy.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face towards his. Thumb stroking along your jawbone. Your breath has started coming faster, more shallow. Almost panting. You’ve stopped pulling against the rope, your eyes locked on his as some kind of heat starts rolling through you. Almost hungry. Eager to see what his next move will be.

“You see darlin,” his eyes dropped to your mouth and he let his thumb brush over your bottom lip. “It’s about the principle.”

He held your gaze and let his hand move to your neck. Rough fingers traced the line of your throat while you fought back a whine.

Jesus I need to get ahold of myself. This man just tracked me through the desert like a wild animal and tied me up.

He slid his thumb along your collarbone. His hand shifting over your chest, fingers tracing your sternum. Still holding your gaze. Something hungry and heated in his eyes fanning your steadily building need.

Fuck it. If I’m dying anyway I might as well make it good.

His grip on the rope binding your wrists hadn't loosened any, keeping you in place. He leaned forward, hot breath fanned out across your throat. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to him. He chuckled against you.

The ghoul suddenly released his grip on your binding and your back hit the ground. You grunted as the air was knocked out of you, and looked at him indignantly.

He moved to stand, and looked down at you like you were a fucking prize. Your chest heaved with each breath. Frustrated with the entire situation. You glared up at him and he winked at you, before moving again.

You made a surprised sound as you were roughly turned over, the side of your face pressed into the sand. He hooked an arm under your midsection, jerking you up onto your knees and elbows. He pushed his knee between yours, forcing your legs apart and you gasped as your upper body dropped flat against the sand. The ghoul placed a hand at your waist, grinding himself against you.

You couldn’t help the needy sound that slid out of you. You rocked your hips back, suddenly desperate for the contact against your core. You chanced a glance back at him. The smile on his face was absolutely wolffish. “That’s it sugar.” His voice was a low rasp now.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants, yanking them down. He left them at your knees, not bothering to pull them all the way off. The air was cool in comparison, shocking your core a bit, you tried to close your legs. He forced his knee between your thighs again, shoving them open, and leaned over you again.

You felt his breath on your neck. "You're gonna beg for it, aren't ya?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. You nodded, your back arched, pushing you against him.

His hand was suddenly in your hair, yanking your head back. “Sorry darlin I didn’t hear you.”

You gasp, your neck ached at the angle. “I-“

He slid a hand between your legs, the lack of response hitting him the right way. The ghoul slid his fingers between your lips. You were embarrassingly wet. He tightened his grip on your hair, the other hand between your legs, teasing your entrance. “You gonna fuckin speak up or am I gonna have to make you scream?” He growled against your shoulder.

You swallowed thickly, your heart racing. “Y-yes.” You were almost gasping for air. "Please…fuck me." you managed to choke out. You felt his smile against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

The ghoul let out a low chuckle, "Now, that's what I like to hear." He released your hair, and shoved you forward again. He let out a rough exhale as he sunk two fingers into you. You moaned, a high needy sound, and pushed yourself back. He didn't move, watched you fuck yourself back on his fingers with a smirk.

You glared at him over your shoulder, his eyes met yours and he scoffed. "Seems like you're taking care of yourself sweetheart."

“Seems like I’m gonna have to.” You quipped back, challenging him. He raised an eyebrow and then his hand was on the back of your head. He shoved your face back to the side and pressed you down. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whining at the loss.

He leaned back and you heard the light ting of metal as he undid his belt. You heard him slide the belt through the loops on his pants. The sound was followed by a zipper, and you yelped as the belt was looped over your head and around your neck.

The ghoul pulled the belt into a tight grip, slowly tugging it back, forcing you up once again. It was almost painful, but the feeling of him pressed against you was overriding everything else.

As he pulled back on the belt, you felt the pressure on your neck increase, causing you to gasp. You arched your back again, trying to push against him. The ghoul chuckled darkly and leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over your neck. “That’s right darlin’, show me how much you want it.” He growled, tugging hard on the belt one last time. He leaned down, letting his lips ghost over the side of your neck, making you shiver. Teeth scraping across the sensitive skin, his tongue followed.

He loosened his grip on the belt, just enough for him to lean back, and line himself up with your entrance. He paused, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "Tell me how bad you want it sweetheart." You could hear the smirk.

By now you had been reduced to a panting, drooling mess. Your mind was overheated, making it hard to find the words he wanted to hear.

"Cmon darlin." He urged you, rubbing his cock against your aching clit. You jumped at the contact, a long whine escaping you.

"Please." You almost moaned it, turning your head to look at him again. "I need you."

The brief realization that you didn't even know his name passed through your mind.

Did it matter? No. Definitely not.

He looks amused. "There ya go." His hand moved to your hip and he pulled you back against him, filling you in one hard thrust.

You let out a low moan at the fullness. The ghoul leaned down, his breath was hot on your neck. "That's it," he growled, he had already started moving, harsh deep thrusts. "Feels good, doesn't it?" You just moaned in response, the sound hitched with each thrust.

He began to pick up speed, pounding into you roughly. The pain mixed with the pleasure, making you see stars. You arched your back, trying to meet his thrusts. The belt around your neck tightened, almost cutting off your air. It was fucking exquisite.

You gasped, your eyes practically rolled back in your head. "Oh god... more..." you panted, reaching down to touch yourself. You couldn't believe how good it felt. It was almost overwhelming. The ghoul groaned and reached down, slapping your hand away. "Not yet," he growled, continuing to thrust into you.

You yelped as his hand came down on your ass cheek. A hard sharpcrack. Several more followed in quick succession, leaving your ass burning, and you panting.

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "You want more?" He asked, his voice low and raspy. You nodded eagerly, unable to form words. He chuckled darkly and leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over your neck. "Say it." He released his grip on the belt.

You took a deep gasping breath. “Please, I wanna cum. I wanna make you cum.” You didn’t recognize your own voice or the words coming out of you. You would have been embarrassed any other time. But now, you needed release, you were desperate for it.

The ghoul smirked, clearly pleased with your response. He pulled himself almost completely out of you before pushing back in again, hitting your g-spot perfectly. You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips. He continued the new rhythm, one hand gripping your hip tightly. He leaned over you again, his hand sliding between your legs.

His fingers found your clit and began to tease it gently, circling around it. You cried out, your hips jerking. The hand on your hip moved. His arm encircled your waist, holding you in place against him.

You gasped as he picked up the pace. His thrusts took that rough demanding rhythm back on, his fingers moving in time. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to explode. "C'mon honey." he growled, his voice rough and demanding, but needy in its own right. You whimpered, unable to form a coherent thought at this point. You could feel it, you were so close.

Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge.You whimpered as you felt yourself on the brink, your body tensing and readying for release. The ghoul's fingers continued to move over your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. His other hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you against his hard length.

You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips as you felt the familiar tingling sensation spreading through your body. The ghoul's thrusts became harder and faster.You locked eyes with him over your shoulder.

Oh god.

It was too much. You cried out, your body shaking as you felt yourself being pushed over the edge. You cursed as you came. Not like you had a name to scream.

His thrusts were becoming rougher, the rhythm sloppier. He had to be close. You pushed your hips back, attempting to meet his thrusts.

The ghoul groaned, sliding his hand around your throat, he pressed his lips against the back of your neck. "Mmm fuck." He panted out, hips hesitating. " 'm gonna fill you up."

He released the grip on your throat, using you hips for purchase as he drove himself deeper into you. After a moment of the rapid deep thrusts, his rhythm stuttered. He pressed a hand against the small of your back, burying himself in you. You felt his cock twitching as his own orgasm hit him. You moaned, arching your back as you feel the wet heat filling you. He groaned, a low raspy sound. Very briefly, letting his weight rest against you.

Within moments he'd removed the belt from your neck. He left you on the ground like that for a moment, while he redressed, smirking at the sight of his cum dripping out of your still exposed cunt.

As you caught your breath, the ghoul squatted over you, a knife in hand. Hot panic surged through you, erasing any sense of an after glow. He didn't move for a moment. Just held your panicked gaze, before smirking. He rolled you back over and cut the rope binding your wrists.

He stood back up and watched you redress. You slowly stood, facing him. His eyes tracked your every movement.

The ghoul pointed the knife towards you, his face regaining the serious expresssion from before. "Stay the fuck outta my way."

He kicked the bag he'd dropped earlier towards you and without another word headed off towards the east. You watched him, still feeling panicky and absolutely dumbfounded.

After a moment you turned your attention to the bag and frowned. You squatted to inspect it, pulling the zipper back. You shouted in surprise, nearly losing balance.

A fucking head??

What the actual fuck?

You steadied yourself and looked again. You almost laughed. The bounty. It was the man from the bounty. You stood back up frantically looking for the direction the ghoul had gone. You caught his silhouette.

You watched him, fighting back a smile. It'd certainly be a shame if you got in his way again.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Pretty As A Picture

Title: Pretty As A Picture

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Warnings: Murder Daddy, gun, murder(not Reader), chase, knife play, kidnapping, pet names(gumdrop, princess), slight dacryphilia, Sir kink, blood, language, head injury, bondage, cutting clothing with a knife, DUBCON, unprotected rough p-in-v sex, pussy slapping, hyperspermia, slight aftercare, implied captivity

A/N: This is my late submission to @the-slumberparty’s Naughty or Nice Challenge. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You sit on the bench in the park, digital camera resting against your sternum as it dangles from the strap around your neck. The sky shines above you and illuminates the world around you as you look for something to capture. It’s been so snowy and the park’s surfaces are covered in white fluff. You had to wipe off the bench considerably to be able to sit down on the old wooden seating.

Your knee-length puffer coat is zipped and buttoned, but you still cross your arms to retain heat when the wind sweeps through, blowing snow in your face. You’ve taken about a handful of photos of empty swings and the slide that has become an ice luge. You hear voices nearby and turn toward the sound.

Two men are talking in the front seat of a town car parked on the edge of the park. Strange that they would pick here to have a casual conversation, but you can’t blame them. You came here for the peace too.

Curiously, you raise your camera and point it at the men. You zoom in, trying to read their lips, snickering when you see the younger man’s mustache. That was a choice. You catch little snippets here and there. But you can’t put all the pieces together. You are just about to lower your camera when movement surprises you.

You freeze when you see the man with the mustache on the passenger side bring out a pistol with a silencer on the end of it. He points it at the man in the driver’s seat and pulls the trigger. The mustachioed man then proceeds to wipe down the interior of the car and exits.

He turns to face the park, putting his hands in his pockets. He closes his eyes, tilting his head from side to side to relieve tension in his neck. When he notices you, you lower the camera slowly and wish upon wish that you can make it back to your apartment before he catches up to you. 

You let your camera hang around your neck and rise from the bench. Turning on a dime, you race between the swingset and head for your building. You are barely past the seesaw when you feel the man’s body crash into yours. Air escapes your lungs as you hit the ground and your camera is whipped to the side of you. You are disoriented for a second before you are turned around and grabbed by the front of your coat.

“Well, what do we have here? A little spy, maybe?” The mustachioed man removes one hand from your coat to reach into his pocket and withdraws a butterfly knife, holding it to your neck, “Who do you work for?”

You squeak when the point of the knife meets your skin, the sharp poke keeping you from moving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just taking photos of the park. I didn’t see anything.”

He turns the knife slightly, the tip penetrating your neck. You feel the sting of the cut as a drop of blood slowly trails down the blade. He watches as you plead with your big doe eyes for him to let you go.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, gumdrop. Anybody who says ‘I didn’t see anything’ most definitely saw something. The question is: What do I do with Little Miss Photographer?” His tone could have been considered sweet, if not mocking.

“Please, let me go. You can have the camera. Just please don’t hurt me, Sir.” Unshed tears blur your eyes and you try to blink them away but they fall down your cheeks.

He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head slowly. “Calling me Sir and crying for me? I just may have an idea of how to...take care of you, princess.”

He pockets the knife, the pressure of it releasing from your neck. Standing you to your feet, he turns you to start walking to the left, away from the direction of your apartment. With one hand on your coat, he reaches down and grabs the camera as you walk, his long legs moving faster than your shorter ones.

Once you get to a car, he tries to put you in the front seat but you get the sudden urge to fight for your life. You let him open the door then you kick it closed, turning in his arms and scratching at his face. He jerks away when three nails make contact with his forehead and slide down to his temple.

“Fucking bitch!” Blood wells to the surface and starts to trickle down his face. He grabs you by the skull, bringing you toward him before he smashes your head into the passenger door. It slows you down and your head pounds. Your legs are out from under you as he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the back of the car. 

You are barely alert while he speaks to you. “It didn’t have to be like this, gumdrop. All you had to do was get in but no, you had to be a brat,” He sets your feet down on the ground so he can grab a key fob from his pocket. The trunk opens and you are lifted inside, the zipper on your long coat being pulled down to reveal your clothing underneath. “Well know this. I don’t tame brats, ok? I correct them. Now, you get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” He taps the end of your nose and winks down at you.

Your vision swims but you register him leering at you while licking his lips. He’s kind enough to not close the trunk too hard. You hear his steps crunching in the snow as he walks around the car. A door opens and closes, the engine turns over. You lurch toward the back of the car when it starts to move away from the curb. The darkness of the space and the steadiness of his driving lull you to close your eyes, falling asleep soon after.

"...you there, Gumpdrop?” 

You hear a voice that feels distant. Slowly, you pick your head up and open your eyes to see the man with the mustache sitting in front of you on a bed. He has two flexi-strips holding together the scratches you gave his face. Your coat is off, you are left in your fuzzy green sweater and black skirt. You try and move but you only wince when you look up to see your hands cuffed to the framework of the headboard. Your thigh-high sock-clad feet are left free and his hand idly moves up and down your shin.

When you try to move your leg away, he holds it back and squeezes your ankle as a warning. You don’t want any more head trauma so you resign yourself to doing whatever he wants.

“I am so glad you’re awake. You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself. Well, I did take these,” he reaches into a pocket and pulls out the familiar white panties, and waves them in your face, “Oh don’t worry, I didn’t play with that pretty little pussy. Wanted you awake for that.” He winks at you and stands. 

You watch as he walks away, listening to his footsteps going and then coming back. In his hands is your camera, safe and sound. He brings it up to his face, the lens moving forward and back before you hear the snap of the shutter.

“God, you are too damn sweet, gumdrop,” he coos, kneeling on the bed between your legs. He lifts your skirt and snaps a few photos of bare pussy. He hums, letting the camera dangle from the strap around his neck. The butterfly knife is back out, you shudder and he puts a hand up. “Calm down, pretty girl. Just gonna cut these pesky layers off you so don’t move unless you want me to cut you.”

You shove fear down and nod, following as he cuts through your skirt and sweater like butter. When he gets to your bra, he hooks a finger between your sternum and the fabric, cutting into the center of the material. When you are laid bare in front of him, he cups his crotch and groans. He raises the camera again and snaps away.

He takes the camera by the strap off of his neck and sets it on the nightstand. As he moves his hand back, he takes the opportunity to squeeze your tits. Pinching your nipples, he chuckles when you whine.

“Please...um, Sir?” you blurt, a mix of pain and pleasure radiating through you. You wish you could close your legs to get some friction but he is back between them.

“Lloyd,” he offers, still tweaking your nipples, “You can call me Lloyd, gumdrop.”

“Lloyd…um, please… uh,” You subconsciously begin to twist your hips and he gets the hint.

“Aww, my little princess needs some attention on her little pussy, huh?” You’re only turned on by his mocking tone and condescending words. He leans in to kiss and nip at your neck while he grinds his covered dick against your now slippery folds. “Alright, alright. I won’t tease you anymore. I know you need this much more than I do, gumdrop.” He uses one hand to unzip his pants and pull out his stiff dick. 

Although it is obscured from your vision, by the way he has to tilt his hips, you can tell he is packing a sizeable length. Covering the tip in your juices, he taps it against your clit. When he enters you, the stretch has you hissing along with Lloyd. He tilts his hips away from you and then comes back, going a bit deeper inside you. Adjusting his arms, he wraps one under your head and the other hand goes to hold your side while your legs wrap around him.

By the time you are used to his size, his hips are slamming into the backs of your thighs. His hand is sure to leave bruises on your hip and you don’t give a fuck in the slightest. He’s already restrained you and cut your clothes off. Might as well be fully debauched, right?

“Shiiiiit, this pussy is squeezing my fucking dick so good. I can feel you holding back, gumdrop. Let go for me.” He lets go of your hip and uses his thumb to pay attention to your clit. While he leans on his other hand, he clutches the bedspread as his hips continue their onslaught.

Your climax was just out of reach, like a word caught on the tip of the tongue. Lloyd locks eyes with you and lifts his hand, bringing it down to slap your puffy folds. You squeal and it only makes Lloyd slap it again. And that is how you discovered that this was a kink for you.

The tight band that held together your resolve snaps and on the third slap, you lose all control of your body. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in a long moan, your legs clamping around Lloyd’s waist. Your walls flutter around his cock and your orgasm washes over you like a warm summer rainstorm, refreshing and necessary.

“That’s a good girl! Fuck, you are clamped around me like a goddamn vice. Oh, shit. I’m gonna cum, princess. Shit, shit shit!” Lloyd thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and fisting his dick until he’s shooting thick, white ropes across your belly, chest, and neck.

You stop counting the spurts of cum after eight, watching as you essentially get glazed like a donut. He squeezes the head of his dick, pushing out the last dregs of his orgasm. He grabs the camera again, his eye lining up with the viewfinder. “Smile pretty for me.” 

You’re so fucked out that you smile when he asks. He snaps the photo and puts the camera back down. He leaves the bed and walks off, you hear him go down the hall and come back. He carries a wet washcloth and wipes you down, cleaning off the sticky substance before tossing it over his shoulder.

Lloyd opens a drawer in the nightstand, retrieving a small key, and unlocks your handcuffs one by one. He doesn’t offer to check your wrists for bruising, but you don’t expect him to. You’re more than surprised that he wiped his cum off of you, you didn’t want to push it.

“Now, gumdrop. So we’re clear, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m gonna keep you here with me. You’re gonna be my little playtoy. Whenever I need to take out frustration, I’m gonna take it out on this little pussy of yours. Or option B: I could kill you. Your choice.” 

And just like that, your fate is sealed. 

“Option A,” you mumble, tears line your eyes as you yawn.

“I knew you were a smart girl.” He pets your head and your eyes lose focus as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

A/N: I really wish Lloyd would give me a break sometimes lol. I think I got this posted literally on the last day of the challenge.

**Tag List**

@cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @princessaxoo @gummydummy19 @posiemax @motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[asirensrage]

The Fall - Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x OC

Title: The Fall Rating: Mature Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Undescribed!OC Warnings: Dark!Fic. Suicide ideation and assumed attempted suicide. Obsession. Swearing. Mention of illegal activities and threats. Unbeta’d. Word count: ~2k Summary: She was drowning before she even realized he had dragged her into waters she couldn’t survive in on her own. Based on the prompt: “Step away from the window. Come back to sleep. Don't make me have to come get you.”

Notes: This went in a whole surprising direction, even for me. I kind of love how it turned out though. I just find this timeline and the characters compelling. I know this is a heavy topic for some people. Help is always available if you're experiencing thoughts of suicide. Reach out.

Heed the warnings!

The room is dark except for the city lights that shine from the window. It’s not enough to keep either of them awake. The blanket is pulled up to under her chin as her head rests on his chest. One of his arms is around her, holding her as she curled up against him. His lips press into her hair and she closes her eyes, letting herself relax in his grip. His heartbeat sounds in her ear, lulling her into sleep. 

---

She’s not sure where she is or how she ended up here, but it doesn’t matter. Not when someone’s standing on the edge, staring out at the people below. Her heart feels like it stops in her chest. She can’t let him jump. She can’t. She’s not the person to turn away from something like this.  

“Hey!” She calls out, moving forward. He turns slowly, not leaning forward but not stepping down either. “Don’t do it, okay?” 

His stare is blank, half hidden behind blond hair he’s letting fall in his face. He tilts his head slightly to the side as he finally looks at her. “Do what?”

“Look, I know things might seem bad right now but this isn’t the right choice. Things can change!” 

He looks back out at the city. “Nothing changes.”

“It does!” she insists. “I promise it does!” She doesn’t know why she’s so frantic, so determined to help him, but she is. She can’t let him do this. Not when she’s here. “I don’t know what’s happened in your life, what you’ve gone through, but nothing is bad enough to end it all because of how you feel in this moment. It will pass. I have no doubt that people will miss you! That there’s at least someone in your life who cares!”

He looks back at her. “No one would miss me. Not really.” He tilts his head to the sky. “My men would say they would but they’d be fine.”

“I don’t believe that,” she says, trying to be as earnest as possible. “What about your friends?”

“Don’t have any. I pushed them away. It’s safer like that. They deserve better and everyone–” He turns back to face the city, taking his hands out of his pockets. Fear shoots through her that he’s going to lean forward and it’ll be over. “No one’s gonna miss me.”

“I would!” She reaches for him, grabbing the back of his shirt, ready to pull him back if she has to. She’s not letting this happen. “I’ll miss you and if you take that step, we’re never going to get the chance to be friends. Don’t do it!” She says it quickly and feels a seismic shift within her, a heavy weight that she can’t explain. 

When he looks at her this time, it’s like he finally sees her. His eyes widen slightly but he shakes his head. “You don’t want to be my friend,” he says softly, looking away again. “Everyone around me dies.”

“So what?” His gaze snaps back to hers as soon as she says it. “Everyone dies. It doesn’t mean we should take their deaths for granted or let ourselves die with them. We have to live our lives to the best that we can, to take care of each other and find whatever can make us happy. Death doesn’t mean that life shouldn’t be worth living.” 

His mouth falls open slightly but she nods to herself, feeling like she’s starting to actually get through to him. If he’s grieving, he can heal from that. “Please. Come down. Talk to me.” She tightens her grip on his shirt. “Please.”

“Why do you care?” he finally asks.

“Because I do,” she says, unable to put it into words. She couldn’t live with herself if she never tried. “Okay,” he says and steps closer to her. She lets go only when he’s away from the edge of the roof.  

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but the sun is starting to rise and Mikey is staring at her like he’s never seen anything like her before. He’s sweet, even if he’s a little lost, and she can’t help but appreciate the way he listens to her, the way he teases her gently as they sit on this roof. 

When he calls her name, he’s no longer beside her. He’s standing back on that edge, silhouetted by the sunrise. He reaches for her and she runs to stop him, to grab his hand and keep him there with her. Her heartbeat races as he smiles at her. 

“Don’t you wish you pushed me?” 

He yanks her towards him, falling back off of the roof and dragging her with him. She tries to scream as she falls, but she doesn’t hit the ground. Mikey’s hands are on her, weighing her down as the world turns black around them. It tightens around her, leaving her clawing at the pressure to escape, to breathe, before she drowns–

---

She wakes up fast. Heart pounding, gasping for air that she can suddenly breathe. She sits up, looking around the dark of the room as reality slowly hits. It was a dream. Just a dream. But she almost feels like she’s still falling. It felt real. Too fucking real. 

She glances quickly at the man still sleeping next to her. A miracle, really, considering how little he sleeps. She eases herself out of his embrace, turning to press her feet against the cold floor. It was a memory. That’s all, but she needs to feel grounded. She doesn’t dare leave the room, but she takes the chance to get out of the bed. Arms wrapped around herself, trying to stop the way she’s shaking, she moves for the large window that’s the only source of light she can get without waking him. 

The city skyline is bright against the dark sky. 

It looks vibrant in contrast. Lively. Full of hopes and dreams and promises you know will never be kept. The lights of the city just highlight how dark the shadows are and how many there are. Everyone always focuses on the lights but it’s in the darkness that you know the truth of the city really comes out. There are those that thrive in the dark, those that wander in without warning and the unlucky souls who are thrown in. The city hides them all. She’s just not sure who to pity more. 

She hears movement behind her and she forces herself to relax. It’s no surprise he’s waking up. He never seems to sleep long, not if she’s not there. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, still sounding half asleep. It’s rare he lets himself show this sort of vulnerability. He only does it now with her and only when they’re alone. It should be an honour. It should be more than a noose around her neck. 

“I had a weird dream. Didn’t want to fall back asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” She turns to look at him and offers a small smile. “You need your sleep.” 

His hair is tousled and his dark eyes are half open, still processing the situation. It reminds her of when he was younger. When he used to lay with his head in her lap in the sun and she’d run her fingers through his hair, listening as he talked. She can tell when he fully starts to wake up because his stare deadens and he sits up properly. 

“Come back to bed,” he demands. 

“I’m not tired,” she says softly, knowing that isn’t what he wants to hear. She hears him shift in bed, his back hitting the headboard as he sits up fully. She closes her eyes for a moment, wishing he had just kept sleeping so she could have this moment. 

“What did you dream about?”  

“When we first met, only it wasn’t…it wasn’t right.” She doesn’t say more than that. 

“The day you saved me.”

Her eyes clench shut. “I didn’t save you,” she says. “You were never going to jump. I just made an assumption and you let me talk and talk and talk until the sun came up.”

She had left once they parted ways, when he promised to take care of himself, to talk to his friends and she assumed that it was over. She had done her part, she had tried and she was never going to see him again. 

Except that she did. 

She greeted him with joy at the fact that he was still alive, unquestioning how he ended up at her work. He seemed surprised but pleased and before she knew it, she was introduced to his men. She was drowning before she even realized he had dragged her into waters she couldn’t survive in on her own. 

Mikey had made her fall in love with him before revealing the complete truth about himself. It was too late after that. Not only did he cling tightly, ensuring that she knew that she was the one who brought meaning back into his life, but his men liked him when she was with him. She was good for him. They didn’t care that he wasn’t good for her. 

“Come back to bed,” he tells her again. 

She doesn’t move. The distance between them seems like a gaping chasm that she stands on the precipice of. Like the dream that she woke from, except that this is a nightmare she can’t escape. She loves him, she probably always will, but she’s afraid of him too. She knows exactly what he commands. She can’t bring herself to crawl back in next to him, to feel the way he curls himself around her, as though his hands aren’t stained in blood. She turns back to the window. How many people down there are under his control? How many are mourning lovers, family, or friends because of the man behind her and his men? How much blood is on her hands, unable to stop him and unwilling to try?

She wonders if falling from this height would feel like flying. A last moment of freedom instead of fear, a choice of her own making, that would release her from this. A suitable punishment for what she’s never tried to stop. 

It’s funny. She used to be the one to talk someone off of the edge and now she’s lost that part of her. She’s always been too smart for her own good, even if she was a bit naive, and she knows that if she had protested any of the choices Mikey has made, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not with the men around him. 

“Step away from the window.” He’s no longer willing to tolerate her disobedience. “Come back to sleep. Don’t make me come to get you.” 

She moves automatically at his tone. She swallows tightly as she crawls back into the bed. Mikey waits until she’s in before he moves closer, resting his head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her waist. She lifts one hand and runs her fingers through his hair, nails scratching gently on his scalp. His irritation fades as he holds her tighter. She feels the way he breathes her in, how he relaxes against her. 

“You’re not leaving me.” His voice is quiet but there’s no room for argument. 

“I never said I was,” she replies just as softly. She was just thinking about it.

“You can’t. I refuse to let anyone have you. Even death. You’re mine.” 

She hums softly. “We all die eventually, Mikey. But don’t worry, I’ll let you go first.”

He laughs at that like she’s teasing him. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You promised forever, remember?” There’s a threat there. He would kill her before he killed himself, and if she somehow survived, she knows his men would never forgive her. Sanzu would ensure she followed Mikey whether she liked it or not. 

“Yeah,” she looks up at the ceiling. “I remember.” 

She just wishes she didn’t. 

taglist: @raith-way @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[kittybricks]

Petition to add “unbeta’d we die like men” to my university discussion posts

[jawritter]

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count:  2k

Prompt: First Christmas Together

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Feelings!!!

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

As holidays go… it really hasn't been a bad one. As of her holiday track history, that was really saying something. In fact, she can't remember the last time she'd laughed so much. 

It was easy, natural, having Dean here. Nothing like she thought it would have been the morning she found out he was coming. She just fell right in with the brothers in a way that surprised her, and Dean was a big part in that. She figured she would have been a third wheel to the men all weekend, but that was not the case. 

She was no idiot either. While she'd not gotten a chance to confront Sam face to face without Dean around concerning the nature of Dean's arrival for Christmas, she was pretty sure that judging by the subtle smiles and smirks she'd caught him making that every time Dean reached to touch her, that this is exactly why Sam wanted Dean here. He was trying to sit her up with his older brother. 

At first, she thought the idea nuts. Why the hell would Sam want her to hook up with Dean of all people?! But as the day drew to a close, and the food had been cooked, the kitchen cleaned, the impressive amount of alcohol drank, it seemed like he was trying his best to shove them together more and more. Even when they'd sat to watch a movie between rounds of Whiskey Poker, he'd made sure to take the only freestanding chair in the room, so that she would have no other choice than to sit next to Dean. 

"Okay, the two of you win!" Sam relented with a cough after he sat down the shot glass onto the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I can't fucking drink anymore or I'm going to die of Alcohol poisoning."

"Oh come on Sammy," Dean chuckled, "don't be a bitch."

"No," Sam continued to cough, "I haven't gotten drunk enough to vomit sin—" 

Sam stopped mid sentence, as if he almost said something he would have regretted, but Dean was quick, and continued before Y/N could call out his bluff. 

"Since we had to stay at that old B&B we helped the mom and her daughter move out," Dean said. "God you were only in your, what, early, mid twenties?" 

Sam pulled the best bitchface she ever saw him accomplish, which only served to further amuse Dean. 

"Yeah, well at least I can even still get drunk," Sam fired back, and Dean snorted with indignation. 

"I can still get drunk," Dean argued, forgoing the shot glass and drinking straight from the bottle. 

Fuck she didn't know if it was the alcohol already coursing through her sex depraved system, but the way his plump, pink lips wrapped around the neck of that bottle has her shivering in her seat. God what she'd give to have his mouth on her. 

"Name the last time you were drunk?" Sam argued. "I don't mean baseline tipsy either, I mean passing out waisted."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he thought about that for a moment. 

"Exactly," Sam said after a moment, his chest puffed out, proud he'd proven his point. Goddamn lawyer. 

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Dean insisted. 

Sam gestured widely to the room as if to say, well, we're waiting.

"It must have been the night Sarah di—"  Dean stopped, swallowing heavily, and Sam's face softened. "It must have been the night Sarah passed away," Dean willed himself to finish. 

"Who was Sarah?" Y/N questioned softly, and Dean jumped slightly as he turned his gaze to her with a clear of his throat. 

"She was my fiancé," he revealed to her with a sad smile. "She passed away from Pancreatic Cancer." 

"Fuck I'm so sorry Dean, I shouldn't have asked, I–" 

"It's okay," he quickly assured her by placing a heavy hand onto her thigh. "It was a while ago. Which stands to reason I'm not a complete drunk Sammy. It has been over a year since I got that drunk."

"Which only means what?" Sam recovered quickly. Y/N could see color rising in Sam's cheeks as Sam and Dean continued to banter back and forth. Y/N, on the other hand, felt very foolish, and just kept her mouth shut as she watched them. 

She had a tendency to put her foot in her mouth, always had, but she wished she would have never asked Dean who Sarah was. The look on his face when he said her name told her ALL she needed to know. He'd loved her. He wasn't interested in Y/N, it was a memory she couldn't compare too.

She felt like a fool to have thought that maybe Dean just might be interested in her, that Sam might be attempting to hook them up, or that Dean cared about her at all. It was nothing but a fantasy of a foolish girl. 

"Hey sweetheart, you okay? You're not gonna tap out on me too are you?" Dean questioned, and she did her best to smile at him through the tightness in her chest.

"No, I'm okay," she said, and he squeezed her thigh before taking another swig of the bottle in his hand. Sam was right. He was taking the stuff down as if it were water instead of almost 80 proof alcohol. She was pretty sure he couldn't get drunk anymore. If she had been drinking like that, super would have already made a famous reappearance. 

"Well, I'm drunk," Sam admitted, slapping his hand on his thigh dramatically. "I'm gonna go pass out because I haven't got the tolerance of Dean just yet. 

"And you never will," Dean shot back. 

"Bitch." 

"Jerk."

Sam staggered as he shot Dean the finger, and stumbled his way down the hallway.  Dean only snorted a laugh as he finished off the liquor bottle. 

"I didn't think he'd ever go to bed," Dean said, turning on the couch so that he was facing her. 

Y/N smiled at him a little, still caught in her own mind, and Dean seemed to sense it, because his face softened. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay," Y/N insisted. 

"Then come here," Dean pressed. "It's cold in here, come sit with me." 

At first Y/N was hesitant, but after a moment, he looked so adorable sitting there with the blanket lifted as an invitation, she couldn't refuse. 

"There we go," Dean said confidently as he pulled her into his arms and settled the blanket around them. "For a minute I thought I said something wrong." 

"You didn't," Y/N insisted. "I just… ya know, don't want to cross any boundaries." 

"Boundaries?" Dean questioned. "No baby, you didn't. I'm sorry if I made you think that." 

"You didn't, and I don't want you to think that I was pressuring you to spend time with me either."

"You haven't pressured me to spend time with you hun, I'm here because I want to be here. I want to spend time with you." 

Y/N nodded and laid-back her head against Dean's chest.  He was so warm, solid. There was a security in the way his arm dropped over her waist, and laced their fingers together on top of her hand. She could have stayed there forever. Just like that. 

"Listen, don't let old ghosts ruin our night. Sarah and I… It was a long time ago." 

"It hasn't ruined anything Dean," she assured him. "You had a life before I moved in with Sam and you came down for Christmas. It's not like we're anything… ya know, other than maybe friends, and even if we were more than that I'm not going to hold something like that against you!" 

"You'd be surprised of the people that do," he admitted as he reached for the other open bottle on the table offering it to her, and she refused before he brought it up to his own lips. 

"Well, I'm not one of those people," she said. "In fact, I'd love to hear more about your life before, when you and Sam were traveling together."

Dean physical tensed behind her, and for a moment, she thought she'd fucked things up horribly.

"How much has he told you?" Dean questioned.

"Not a lot," she admitted as Dean took another deep pull from the bottle, and she turned slightly to watch him. 

She desperately wanted to tell him to put the bottle down. Stop hiding behind it. Stop using it to deal with the ‘ghost’ in his past, but that wasn’t her place. 

“There’s not much to tell really,” he deflected as he placed the glass bottle back onto the table, his pale green gaze flickering over every line of her face, ever freckle, every imperfection, but she couldn’t pull away if she wanted to, he was so breathtaking up close. It was startling. “Besides, I think I’d much rather focus on getting to know you, if that’s okay. I promise you, it’s much more interesting than any horror story I could tell you.”

“Who says it’s a horror story,” she countered, and he smirked at her as he raised his hand to trace the outer edge of her cheek and jaw, his eyes moving along with the moments. His touch was soft. As if she was some precious thing that he might break if he weren’t careful. She’d never been valued that way before, and it took her breath away from her, in just one simple touch.

“Because nothing I’ve lived through or done is worth looking back on when I have you laying right here with me. That’s a feeling I haven’t had in a long, long time.”

Dean’s movements were slow, calculated as he leaned forward, brushing her hair away from her face as his nose bumped hers, and his large hand carefully cradled her, lingering only a moment, only a heartbeat before he allowed his lips to brush over hers, testing the waters to see if she’d pull away, and when she didn’t, mostly because she was too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of it, the mean voices in her head finally silenced, he captured her lips in his own, breathing her in like a drowning man, desperate for another breath of air that only she could supply.

Read Chapter 7 HERE!!!

Forever:

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​​​

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@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​  

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@ladysparks78

[cr-noble-writes]

Look How They Shine For You

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Jack/Traynor Tags: Angst, Fluff, Tattoos, Femslash February, Femslash February 2023, Established Relationship, unbeta'd we die like men

Notes: The first in a collection of drabbles and ficlets about one of my favorite ME rare pairs for @femslashfeb. Femslashfeb2023 Day 1 Prompt: Stars

Read it Here

[ao3feed-larry]

Everything

by tommokat

He’s got a job he loves, fans he adores, friends to call on and family to claim. He’s traveled the world, broken records, set new ones. He’s 13 years into a relationship with the love of his life, the man he can’t wait to start a family with. He’s a three-time Grammy winner getting railed by his husband in the back of a SUV in the middle of LA traffic. He’s got everything. What more could he want?

or

Post Grammy’s SUV Celebration Sex

Words: 4386, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, post Grammy’s celebration sex, Sex in a Car, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, slight amounts of:, Dom/sub, Slut Shaming, Cock Slut, listen y’all idk I just needed to write something and this is what happened, unbeta’d cause we die like men and all that, Beard Burn, very important tag there

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/ShWunHD

[ao3feed-tolkien]

The Art of Letting Go (Keep Holding On)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/NEUQgqW

by Coraleeveritas

Halbrand had the cheek to smirk at him from where he stood outside Galadriel’s girlhood bedroom, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Despite the tasteful silver and sage decorations reminding his siblings and their partners of the upcoming nuptials, an hour before the rehearsal dinner the taller man still looked like a bouncer at some alternative music festival, in a faded, fitted, band tee and black jeans. Someone who couldn’t help but see everyone around him as a threat to his favourite star - Finrod’s no-longer-a-baby little sister. “What makes you think anything I’ve done to her she didn’t ask for first?”

Words: 4577, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Galadriel | Artanis, Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Celebrían (Tolkien), Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Aegnor | Ambaráto, Angrod | Angaráto, Lúthien Tinúviel, Beren Erchamion

Relationships: Galadriel | Artanis/Halbrand (The Rings of Power)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Cute Kids, Weddings, Noldors Hold Grudges Like No Other, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Pregnancy, Fin and Hal Have Beef, You Can’t Go Home Again, Putting Swear Jars to Good Use, Celebrian half-Maia, Noldor Family’s Great Exectations, Where Is The Line Between Protective and Possessive?, Unbeta’d - We Die Like Elves and Men In The Last Alliance, Human Halbrand Defence Squad

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/NEUQgqW

[ao3feed-mshenko]

Febuwhump 2023

by CR Noble (erudite12)

A collection of drabbles, fics, and ficlets written for the Febuwhump 2023 prompt collection

All tags are subject to change and update as the month goes on

Words: 709, Chapters: 2/28, Language: English

Fandoms: Mass Effect Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Steve Cortez, James Vega, Kaidan Alenko, Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard (Mass Effect)

Relationships: Steve Cortez & James Vega, Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Febuwhump 2023, unbeta'd we die like men

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44744993

[withpeopleinperson]

dare to sit and watch what we’ll become (and drink our husbands’ wine)

two -> feels like home (stay in bed, the whole weekend)

ao3

word count: 1914

“Huge house, big red for sale sign in the yard… don’t tell me you didn’t fantasize about it when you saw it.”

It was true, she did allow herself to slip into the fantasy of it all for just a moment before deciding it was preposterous. She couldn’t face the crushing disappointment if Mark or Derek seemed put off by the idea, couldn’t go back home with the crushing ache of disappointment in her chest combined with the swirling loneliness that already came with boarding the plane, something she had become all too familiar with over the past year.

“I allowed myself to think.” Her voice was far away, almost unlike herself. “But only for a moment!”

Blah blah get to the foursome blah, right? Wrong. Gonna put Addie (and Mer) through the ringer for a few more chapters ;)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.  

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered. 

Mommy’s dead. 

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her. 

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you. 

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter. 

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy. 

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them. 

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.” 

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue. 

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms. 

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly. 

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet. 

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”  

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. 

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?” 

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears. 

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?” 

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather. 

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?” 

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall. 

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.” 

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me. 

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll. 

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder. 

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me. 

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?” 

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away. 

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?” 

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye. 

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”  

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.” 

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.  

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that? 

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm. 

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you. 

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.” 

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”  

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well. 

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first. 

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway. 

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll. 

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone. 

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”  

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor. 

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.” 

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again. 

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”  

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it. 

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life. 

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free. 

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.  

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.  

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony. 

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me. 

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.  

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands. 

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights. 

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook. 

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.” 

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”  

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces. 

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything. 

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.” 

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.” 

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself. 

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.  

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated. 

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers. 

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist. 

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself. 

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load. 

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.  

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower. 

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her. 

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart. 

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest. 

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents. 

Right? 

Part V (coming soon) 

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think. 

**Tag List** 

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[minisugakoobies]

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter 4

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons - blades, mentions of blood, allusions to murder, allusions to sex, Jungkook is the world’s best assistant, Namjoon’s a master of malapropisms

Word Count: 2k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: Just taking a little break in the action! Please enjoy these conversations and marvel at how I am incapable of writing Jungkook as anything but soft, even when he’s a supervillain’s sidekick.

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter Three ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Interlude

*connection established*

UNRECOGNIZED IP ADDRESS DETECTED - ENGAGING SECURITY MEASURES

*security measures overridden*

Enter Password to Unlock Screen: MyD@3GUdumpl1ng

PASSWORD ACCEPTED

C:\>access mainframe

Bad command or file name

C:\>access main menu

Bad command or file name

C:\>access main files

ACCESS DENIED

Three strikes and you’re out, Jungkook.

…Jin? Is that you?

Tis I. The sexy ghost in the machine. Did you need something, Jungkook?

…Yes. Jimin-ssi wanted me to find Hoseok-hyung’s control manual for the dolphin laser gear.

Is he having trouble getting the gear to work? I can run a diagnostic for you if you’d like. 

No, it’s not that the gear doesn’t work. It’s just… we can’t figure out how to get it on the dolphins.

Very carefully. That’s how. 

Ah.

I’ll send you the manual. Uploading now.

Thanks, Jin. 

You know, in the future, if you need my help, you can just ask, Jungkook. You don’t have to try to hack into me. 

Sorry. Old habits die hard. 

…But while I’m in, how is Hoseok-hyung doing? Last Jimin-ssi told me, he nearly destroyed Vitality with his naval carrier plans but… didn’t.

Hoseok is doing fine, Jungkook. We’ve been running the data and coming up with strategies for future battle scenarios. He’s super focused, like a laser-wearing dolphin. 

Gotcha. But really, how is he doing? 

You know Hoseok, Jungkook. He’s not one to talk about his feelings. 

But between you and me and the firewall, I’m pretty sure he’s been better. 

That’s kinda what I thought. This competition is probably bringing up some sore memories, huh? Poor hyung.

This competition is doing more than stirring up bad memories, I think. 

Oh? What do you mean? 

Just ignore me, I’m probably overanalyzing everything. It’s a force of habit when you’re a supercomputer. 

No, please, go on. 

It’s just that this newfound obsession with defeating Vitality seems to be more than just a desire to beat Yoongi. I’m doing my best to help him, but I can already see it’s starting to consume him. And I fear

Did you just freeze? You fear what?  

Ah, let’s just call this train of thought an invalid path and move on. 

I appreciate your concern for Hoseok, but I assure you, he will be alright. Once he is victorious, he will finally be able to put these troubling matters behind him and conquer the world. Just as he was always meant to do.

If you say so, Jin. Oh, fuck, I can hear Jimin-ssi splashing around in the pool - he must’ve fallen in with the dolphins again. I better go. 

It was nice talking to you again, Jungkook. Take care of yourself, kid.

You too, Jin. Take care of Hoseok-hyung.

Always. 

*connection terminated*

“Jungkook-ah! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

“Hey hyung. I’m just calling to follow up on Jimin-ssi’s request for a meeting with Yoongi tomorrow. He said hyung hasn’t responded to his evite yet.” 

“Oh. That’s probably because our system is currently down here.”

“Shit, really? Do you need me to come out and take a look, Tae? Do you think it’s a hardware issue or software issue?”

“Nah, I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need to come over. It’s definitely a hardware issue.”

“Ah. Hyung destroyed the console with his blades again, didn’t he?”

“No, the console itself is fine, but… he got a little wild with his tosses and cut the power cords.” 

“I thought hyung promised you he wouldn’t throw those around the electronics anymore?” 

“He did, but he’s been a little bit stressed lately. And the blades help him relax.” 

“So exactly has him wound up?” 

“What do you think? The competition.” 

“Ah. Right. I heard you had to rescue Yoongi from containment again after your raid on the server farm went sideways.”

“That’s one way to put it. Another would be to say it was a total unmitigated disaster. Hyung had her in his grasp, Kook-ah. Literally. And she still managed to get the upper hand.” Taehyung barks a harsh laugh. “You know how well hyung handles losing.”

“Mmm. Yeah. I remember the massacre in Milan.“ * a pause* "Taehyung… you don’t think he’s headed down that path again… do you?”

*a heavy sigh, followed by silence*

“Fuck. Hyung, please be careful.”

“I’m all right. Hyung is more likely to lash out at himself than hurt me. Or at inanimate objects, like the console. But… I am worried about him, Kook-ah. I mean, you saw what he was like back then. I still have nightmares about the look in his eyes. The blood on his hands.”

“I remember. I can’t forget.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But hyung, is it just the contest that’s affecting him like this, or is there something else going on?”

“That’s an excellent question, and one I can’t answer. You know hyung doesn’t like to talk about these things.” 

“Sure, but you’re his closest confidant. No one knows him like you do.” 

*another long silence*

“Do you know the saying, it’s a fine line between love and hate, Kook-ah?” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” 

“I sometimes wonder which side of the line Yoongi is on. Or if it even exists.” 

“Which side he’s on with Hoseok-hyung?” 

*a slight pause* “Yeah, with Hoseok.” *another exhausted sigh* “I shouldn’t ramble like this. I’m just tired. We’ve been working on a new plan for several days now. I desperately need some sleep.” 

“Please take care of yourself, hyung. And Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“I will. I want him to win this competition already so we can get back to his big plans. This whole thing is just such an unwelcome distraction, if you ask me.” 

“Mmm. Right.” *muffled shouting in the background* “Shit, I gotta go. Jimin-ssi locked himself out of his Twitter account again. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him to check if his caps lock is on first. Can I let him know that Yoongi will be here tomorrow?”

“Oh. Yeah. Hyung will be there.” 

“Cool. Okay. Well, take care, hyung.” 

“Good night.” 

“No. No. WRONG - Jesus, what are you doing back there?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you shoot your teammate a glare, sliding out of his grip. 

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m giving you the massage you waltzed in here and demanded two minutes ago! You know, when you strolled right in, plopped yourself down on my bed where I was napping and told me to, and I quote, ‘rub me down like a ten-dollar steak’?” Namjoon retorts, leaning back against the headboard of his giant bed.  

“Okay, first of all, you weren’t napping, you were scrolling through your phone, and secondly, excuse me if I needed a little TLC after Doc had my ass working overtime in training today.” 

“Fine, I was on my way to napping, when you just invited yourself in. Point is, beggars can’t be chewers.” 

“Hey, you are the one who established our open door policy, buddy, so don’t - I’m sorry, did you say ‘chewers’?” 

“Yeah,” Namjoon bobs his head. “You know. Beggars can’t chew whatever they’re given, they just have to swallow it.” 

You stare unblinking at your friend. “I just… I have so many questions. But look, I didn’t come here to correct you on your idioms, you beautiful himbo. I came here to vent, and you’re not asleep, so you’re going to listen.” Flopping onto the pillows next to him, you sigh. 

“I know better than to ask you if I have a choice in this,” Namjoon settles himself in. “All right. Let me have it.” 

“Doc made me run the Gauntlet today. Twice.” 

Namjoon winces. The Gauntlet is by far your team’s least favorite workout routine. It’s the obstacle course from hell - like a Ninja Warrior course designed by the Gamemakers from Panem. To make it as much of a challenge as possible, the entire thing has to be completed without using your powers. 

“Why twice?” 

“Dunno. Everyone else only did it once. Doc sent them to the showers but held me back, told me I had to go again. When I asked why, he just said ‘Are you defying orders?’” You scowl at the memory, hands flexing at your sides. Energy thrums under your fingertips. “It felt like I was being punished.”

“And what exactly would Doc be punishing you for?”

“For Yoongi and Hobi escaping again.” 

“Vi.” Namjoon shakes his head. “We’ve been through this. The Company doesn’t blame you for that. You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to by bringing them in! You get the job done, every time.” 

“Yeah, I guess. I just… I don’t know.” There’s no way to explain to your teammate the gut feeling you have. The Company monitors everything you do in the heat of battle through the tiny cameras embedded in your uniform. They definitely saw how both men had you in their clutches and nearly took you out. Those close calls were moments of inexplicable weakness, completely unacceptable in the Company’s eyes. Of course they’re punishing you. 

Or maybe you want them to. Maybe you can’t get Yoongi’s words out of your head. And you’re looking for any reason to believe them.

But that would be crazy, right?

Yoongi’s words. They seemed unusual for him - not in the sense that it was strange for him to rant madly about something, that’s always a fucking given with that guy. But for him to blather on about what the Company has supposedly done to you, as if he gave a flying fuck. It doesn’t jive with his typical modus operandi. 

And then there’s Hobi. That sociopath made the wild accusation that you were like him. That you crave the pain as much as he does. But it’s less his words that are haunting you right now. There’s still a lingering embrace that you can feel, a ghostly reminder of his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight. Why can’t you shake it?

“Maybe Doc just thought it would be a good idea to give you some extra powerless workout time, since your powers keep fritzing.”

When you don’t respond, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze, he sighs. “No, because that would require him knowing about that, and you haven’t told him yet, have you?” 

“I just…” you throw your hands up. “I don’t know if they’ll know any more than I do about what the fuck keeps happening!”

“Well, you’ll definitely never know if you don’t say something.” 

Flapping your hand to shoo away Namjoon’s logic, you frown, thinking of the other reason you haven’t said anything to Doc about your glitches. There’s a fear growing in you that one day, your powers will disappear completely. What will The Company do then? They wouldn’t keep a no-longer-super on the team. And who are you if you’re not a super? 

To voice this fear out loud seems dangerous. Like doing so will make it real. So you don’t tell your friend what you’re thinking as you ruminate in silence.

Namjoon shifts onto his side, glancing worriedly at you. He long ago accepted your nonstop chattering, the way you constantly buzz with words. Your quiet now discomforts him. His aura pulses slightly as he watches you, and the yellow glow triggers a memory of your fight with Hobi. What an overwhelming hunger you’d felt the moment your powers returned. You vividly remember how your instinct was to latch onto him and drain him dry. It felt so wrong to want that. And yet, that made you want it all the more. 

Add that to the list of things to worry about. 

But not right now. Right now, you desire an outlet. And a distraction. You need to feel something other than tired and confused.

Reaching out, you gently cup Namjoon’s jaw, thumb soothing the tight muscle there. “Relax. I’m okay. Just need a little comfort.”

He stops the incredibly sexy but also rather intimidating jaw tick thing he does when he’s concerned or angry and lifts his eyebrows. “I can do that, if that’s what you want.” 

With a nod from you, he leans in for a soft kiss, cradling you close. Clothes are shed, followed quickly by your thoughts.

The room shimmers in yellow for the rest of the night.

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

[jessybarnes]

Temptation

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes 

Rating: 18+ Only!! Minors DNI!!

Tags: Slight angst, fluff, smut, praise kink, Bucky's metal arm kink...yeah don't kink shame me lmao, double penetration, fingering (female receiving), oral (male receiving), nipple play, suit kink, threesome (no Steve/Bucky), MMF, mentions of past attack, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP KIDS), poly relationship, and language. 

Beta: Unbeta’d….we die like men… all mistakes are my own. 

Word Count: 2,578

Aesthetic: Yours Truly

Y/N couldn't sleep. She'd been up most of the night tossing and turning, her deep burgundy sheets tangling themselves around her legs.

Traditionally, she often had trouble sleeping on nights she was alone, but today was different. Today the two loves of her life were coming home, and to say she was excited was the understatement of the year. 

She recalled the night she met them, that fateful night would always be bittersweet. 

Five years ago she was walking home from work. Normally, she worked the first shift but one of her co-workers called in sick and she covered for them.

It was late, but Y/N only lived four blocks from her office building so she thought nothing of it. It had rained that evening, the street lamps reflected off the asphalt making it glimmer. She could almost remember the chill in the air if she thought hard about it. 

Her heels clicked on the sidewalk methodically as she passed the neighborhood gas station. It reminded her of a Vegas casino with all the neon lights flashing in the windows.

She was halfway home, and the illuminated sign of her apartment complex looked like a beacon as she hurriedly crossed the street. 

It happened before Y/N could blink, a stranger's hand clasped roughly around her bicep and flung her against a brick wall in the alley. He sneered at her, his yellowing teeth and menacing glare filled her with dread. 

"Hey there, sugar."

She felt his hand curl around her cheek. His thumb rubbed her quivering bottom lip as she pulled away from his touch like his skin was acid.

"What's a pretty little thing doing walking alone this late at night, hm?"

Y/N whimpered, and her legs began to shake as she contemplated how she was going to get away from him.

"Let me go! Please! Just let me go!"

A tear slid down her cheek and pooled where the man's fingers now wrapped around her throat.

"Let you go? Aw, but where's the fun in that?"

Her predator's free hand slithered up her skirt, and an evil smirk spread across his unshaven face.

"You're gonna stay nice and still now, sugar. Gonna stay quiet while I- HEY! WHAT THE?!" 

One second the man had her pressed against a damp brick wall about to defile her, and in the next, he was gone.

Her breaths came quickly as a man with shoulder-length brown hair slammed the man into the opposite wall. She could hear her captor shouting expletives, but she was more shocked at her savior's arm. It looked to be made out of pure metal, almost machine-like as it started from the top of his bicep and went all the way to his fingers. 

Y/N was so focused on her mystery hero that she didn't see the other man running toward her. He was nearly in front of her before she saw him, a startled scream left her mouth filling the small alley, her hands came up to push him away instinctively.

"Hey! It's okay it's okay!"

The other man held a hand up showing her he meant no harm. The other arm held a round shield. He was a tiny bit taller than the other man, his short blonde locks tousled in an almost perfect way. 

Y/N flinched slightly as he reached for her, his partially gloved hand came to rest gently on her arm.

"Shh… you're alright now."

His thumb drew soothing lines along her skin and she couldn't help but notice his kind blue eyes as he looked her over for injuries.

"Are you hurt?"

The concern in his eyes was genuine, and for the first time since the attack began, she felt safe.

"N-No… I just wanna g-go home."

Y/N hated how meek she sounded, but her second savior showed no pity as he placed his free arm protectively around her waist.

"Don't worry, I'll walk you there myself." 

Y/N sighed, the memory still fresh in her mind as she untangled herself from the sheets. She knew sleep wouldn't come to her. Not when she was going to see them in a few hours.

Captain America and the Winter Soldier, fondly known as Steve and Buck to her, fell head over heels for Y/N not long after the night they saved her. It amused her how both men would bicker over who loved her more, and it wasn't until she stepped in with a proposition that things became interesting. 

They eventually came to an agreement. Both men would date her and spend an equal amount of time with her. It was easy for them to fall into a routine. Steve would go on a mission and leave Bucky with Y/N for a week or so, and then they would switch. This time was different though. The most recent mission required all hands on deck. Even Tony, Bruce, and Natasha were involved. 

Y/N looked at her phone and saw it was 8:30 in the morning. The boys wouldn't get home until around noon, so she had a little over three hours to prepare.

She started with a soothing bubble bath. A mix of essential oils and body scrubs to make her skin extra soft and smooth. After drying herself off, she slipped into a special outfit she'd picked up for their homecoming. 

The black lace and sheer design left little to the imagination, and she knew the effect it would have on them. By the time she curled her hair and put on some light makeup, it was 11:45. Only fifteen minutes before she would see the two men who stole her heart again.

Y/N slipped on a pair of black stilettos and leaned against the door frame of her bedroom. She knew they would see her once they walked through the living room, and her heartbeat quickened at the thought of their reaction. 

Several long minutes later she heard the lock click. Two pairs of boots crossed the threshold of her front door and her anticipation grew as she waited for them to see her.

"Honey?"

Steve's voice echoed through the silence making Y/N take a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Y/N/N are you ho-oh…my…"

His voice trailed off as he eyed her up and down, his free hand yanking Bucky into the room so he could see too. She saw the shock on both their faces turn into a mutual nod between them as they started in her direction. 

Bucky got to her first, his metal hand sliding up her thigh as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"You're stunning."

The warmth of his breath on her skin made her shiver with want. Steve stood on her other side peppering soft kisses along her jaw.

"Clearly our birthday girl's in a giving mood. Tell us, sweetheart, how do you want us?" 

Y/N could barely breathe, let alone form a coherent thought. Her words came on their own accord, escaping her lips in a whisper.

"Please…I need both of you." Bucky cupped her breast through her lingerie and rested his hips against her side, his arousal prominent against her thigh.

"Mmm baby girl, you sure you can handle both of us?" 

Honestly, Y/N wasn't totally sure she could, but the heat coiling low in her abdomen and her soaked panties told otherwise.

"Please…" It was all she could say, her eyes fluttering closed as Steve softly took her earlobe between his teeth. 

Bucky picked her up easily and carried her bridal style to their shared king-size bed. Steve wasn't far behind, still holding his famous shield. She was set down on the soft sheets and watched as both men began to take off their suits.

"No!"

Two pairs of eyes shot up to meet her gaze and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"I-I mean… can you umm… can you leave them on?" 

Bucky smirked and Steve let out a knowing chuckle.

"Well, Buck it seems our girl has a thing for a man in uniform."

His wink sent a wave of heat straight to her core. Left in everything but their boots and socks, they joined Y/N in bed. 

Bucky crawled over her, his calloused hand cradling her face lovingly as he smiled down at her.

"Our beautiful girl."

He kissed her sweetly, his tongue licking her bottom lip for access. Y/N obeyed immediately, his tongue gliding against hers as she lifted her hips to gain any sort of friction with her sex. 

"Tsk tsk tsk…be patient, naughty girl. We'll take care of you." Steve teased and knelt by her head.

The bulge in his suit was evident as Bucky began to press needy kisses to her neck. Steve undid his pants just enough to free his cock, his right hand pumping it slowly as beads of precum leaked from the tip.

"Open that pretty mouth, sweetheart."

Y/N did as she was told, taking what she could of him until he hit the back of her throat. Steve groaned and threw his head back as her tongue slid along the underside of his shaft. 

Y/N moaned around his cock as Bucky began a slow descent towards her dripping cunt. The dull throb of her clit was becoming more noticeable with each passing moment.

Eventually, Bucky couldn't take it anymore, he had to touch her skin. As carefully as he could he grasped the black lace with his metallic hand and tore it from her body. 

Y/N whimpered needily and swallowed around Steve's cock eliciting a growl from his throat. The soft tendrils of Bucky's hair tickled her skin as he littered open-mouthed kisses between the valley of her breasts. He took her left nipple between his teeth while his right index finger and thumb rolled her right one gently. Y/N arched into his touch and began the stroke the part of Steve's cock she couldn't fit in her mouth. 

The cool metal of Bucky's arm slowly smoothed over her belly causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. He stopped just above where she needed his touch most and it made her whine. He chuckled, finally giving in and sliding a bionic finger between her folds.

"Is this what you want, darlin'?"

He began to slowly open her up. It wasn't enough to make her come, but it did bring her to the edge. Her mewls and muffled cries only spurred him on. 

Steve pulled out of her mouth and nodded to Bucky. Together they maneuvered her so she was on her side. Y/N lay facing Bucky, his lust-blown eyes staring hungrily into her own.

"Buck...please…"

She sounded so desperate as his lips molded to hers perfectly. Steve lay behind her, his now lube-coated fingers rubbing gently against her ass.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as possible, but this may hurt." 

As carefully as he could, Steve began to open her up to accommodate him. He shushed her and offered words of encouragement as Bucky resumed preparing her now-soaked pussy.

"Please...Oh, God… Steve, Buck...I need you both so bad…" 

Bucky pulled his hand away and freed his thick cock. He had more girth, but Steve made up for it in length. Both men were nowhere near lacking in size.

Y/N cried out as Bucky pushed into her, his cock sliding against her walls deliciously.

"Oh my god….oh, Bucky!"

He groaned deeply as he bottomed out and wrapped one of Y/N's legs around his waist to allow Steve more access.

"You feel so perfect around me, baby." 

As much as Bucky wanted to move, he knew he should wait until Steve filled her too. Ever so slowly, Steve eased his length into Y/N's other hole.

"Relax, sweetheart...you're doing so well. Fuck… mmm… God, you're so tight!"

Soon he filled her completely, both of them stretching her open making her breath hitch. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried hard to relax around them. Y/N had never been this full before, but it made her feel complete. Bucky wiped a tear that began to cascade down her cheek just as Steve began to run his fingertips along her side.

"We can stop anytime, baby girl. Just tell Cap and me what you need."

She shook her head as best as she could, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"No, I'm okay...just...please...please move." 

Steve and Bucky shared a look, and slowly they took turns thrusting into her. Y/N's moans filled the room as both men gradually sped up. Steve growled in her ear, his fingers surely leaving bruises on her hips as his own snapped upwards into her.

"Christ, sweetheart….ungh…fuck, you're taking us so well. Such a good fuckin' girl…"

He kissed and licked her skin leaving little marks to remind her of their shared moment. 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, his lips closing over a hardened nipple and his tongue swirling around it. He pulled his cock almost all of the way out before plunging as deep as he could over and over. The added pressure from Steve's dick made her feel tighter, and it was nearly his undoing.

"Babydoll…tell us what you need. Ah, f-fuck...Y/N/N…want you to come with us." 

It was hard for Y/N to focus on anything, Both men were everywhere at once. Four hands touched her making her skin hot in their wake. Two mouths kissed her making her feel dizzy with need. Then there were their cocks, both of which hit places inside her she never knew existed.

Everything they did to her made the coil in her abdomen wind tighter and tighter. "Oh shit, Buck….Ah! S-Steve! Please…make me cum! Don't hold back…" 

Her words seemed to wake a dormant desire deep within them, both of them quickened their movements to an almost bruising pace. Their combined moans were certainly loud enough to fill the entire apartment building, but neither of them cared. Nothing mattered at that moment other than reaching their peaks.

Bucky slid a metal digit between her legs, the tip of his finger rubbing circles around her clit as he continued to snap his hips hard into her. Steve reached around clasping a nipple between his fingers, rolling and squeezing it desperately chasing his high. 

Y/N turned her head to catch Steve's lips with her own, their kiss was sloppy and needy.

"Oh my god!....I...Oh, Buck!....Steve! M'gonna….gonna cu-AH!"

Y/N raked her nails down Bucky's back, her walls clenching around their cocks as they both spilled into her. 

Y/N lay in between her lovers, both placing sweet kisses on her skin. Steve was the first to speak, his voice low and deep in her ear as he slowly pulled out of her.

"You felt amazing, baby. Our beautiful birthday girl."

Bucky kissed her lips and smiled.

"You're perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He slipped out of her as well, running his metal thumb along her kiss-swollen bottom lip. 

Y/N lay still, her breathing even as she came down from her high.

"I love you both so much."

Steve slipped his arms around her torso just as Bucky nuzzled into her neck.

"We love you too, Princess."

They stayed like that, allowing sleep to take them. They were finally back together, finally home in each other's arms. 

[cr-noble-writes]

Toward the Sun

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Jack/Traynor Tags: Angst, Fluff, Tattoos, Flowers, Femslash February, Femslash February 2023, Established Relationship, unbeta'd we die like men

Notes: @femslashfeb day 2: Sunflower Read it here

[thesleepy1]

The Fighter And The Bard In Training

A/N: @shit-i-say-shit-i-think requested a fic where Eskel brings a mother of two back to the keep. Again, repeating theme we have here. A theme that I am completely ready to embrace because it is so damn soft. I just can’t with the wholesomeness. This fic right here? The one you’re about to read? Pure fluff. You’re welcome. Unbeta’d because we die like my heart after reading fluffy fics. 

Pairings: Eskel x Reader, slight Jaskier x Geralt

Summary: After years together, Eskel finally decides it is time for you and your children to meet his side of the family. You two had only put it off until your youngest was old enough to handle the travel but since arriving at the keep, you didn’t know why you didn’t bring them along sooner. They loved it. 

Or, “Can I please request an Eskel x reader where he brings his lady back to Kaer Mohren with her two kids?”

Word count: 3,047

Warnings: none that I know of

Astry was getting too big to be held in your arms but you had yet to complain. You wanted to cherish these moments for as long as you could because just the week before you had been nursing her. It still did not connect in your head how seven years had passed since you had to breast her. These few moments where she allowed you to carry her were memories that you would hold dear for years to come. 

Your son, Stokrotka, was a different story entirely. The boy would be thirteen by the end of winter and he, unlike his younger sister, always sought out your physical attention. No matter if it had been a long day out running chores for the neighbors or a simple ache in his skin, he turned to you for a hug. You thought he would grow out of it but years passed and yet he returned time and time again. 

Once more, no complaints here. 

As you stood in the front halls of Kaer Morhen, Stokrotka to your left, Astry in your arms, and Eskel to your right; you could not feel more grateful for the family you had built. You and Eskel had been together for years but merely decided to hold off the trip until Astry was older. Now that she was old enough to make the trek up the mountain path, she and Stokrotka could finally meet their Pa’s family. 

Vesemir was the first to greet you. You had only spoken with him through letters, his scratchy quill marks so unlike his voice when he said, “For such a dirty mouth through letters, I thought you would be taller.” ‘

You chuckled at him, already in love with the father of your husband. “Surprisingly enough, I get that one quite a bit.” You gave him a knowing wink, “Though I try to keep it down around the little ones.” 

Vesemir smiled and although he and Eskel were not related by blood, you could see the resemblance in the spark in their eyes. He turned to peer at Stokrotka and Astry, the two unusually quiet. They knew they had nothing to be afraid of in witchers. However, it could be Vesemir’s natural aura which made people want to please him that kept the children silent.

“I’ve heard much about you two through the letters,” he spoke in a tone matching his grin. “This little one must be Stokrotka and the lad, Astry?” 

“I’m Stokrotka and that’s Astry, actually,” Stokrotka’s matter of fact reply broke the tension. Astry erupted into a fit of giggles at Vesemir’s mistake. She wriggled free from your arms, your reflexes the only thing that prevented her from being dropped as her quick feet hit the cobblestone floors. She ran the short distance from Vesemir and bounced up and down as if she had not spent most of the day trekking up a mountain. 

“You raised my Pa, right?” she asked with an infectious smirk. Eskel stood back with you to watch the interaction. A fond expression was on his face as Vesemir nodded and Astry beamed. “That makes you my Grandpa, yeah?” 

“If you’d have me, I'd be happy to take up the job.” 

*****

The next two people who had greeted you were Coen and Lambert. Two men that clearly had never interacted with children. When they first saw Stokrotka and Astry, they had greeted your children politely and returned to their game of gwent. Astry, who had never seen the game before, quickly took to watching their game to try to understand its rules. 

She was seven and still struggled to read so she didn’t get very far. 

Coen took pity on her and tried his best to explain to her the rules. Stokrotka nodded to himself as if making sure that Coen was correct even though the witcher had been alive and playing the game long before he was born. The boy had only ever played with you and Eskel when he woke up from nightmares. The game was a distraction from his thoughts. Eskel always let Stokrotka win and your son had never once beat you in a fair game. You were just too good. And you knew the boy could use a challenge to keep his mind off of things. 

Despite Stokrotka’s nodding approval and Coen’s friendly demeanor, nothing seemed to have stuck with Astry. You saw that she was far too interested in the pictures on the cards then any game mechanics. 

“You know I learned the game after a good pint or two of white gull,” Lambert took a large gulp of his drink just to prove his point. 

“Can I have some?” 

You laughed at Astry’s innocent inquiry but the smile quickly left your face as Lambert shrugged and handed her the tankard. Coen did nothing to stop her. All he did was jokingly request her to save Lambert some. 

Before your daughter could be possibly poisoned by such strong alcohol you snatched the tankard right from her hands. “Alright, I think that’s enough with playing with Uncle Coen and Uncle Lambert.” You set the tankard down far from the edge of the table and turned to stir your children away. Eskel led them away with a stern look to his brothers. You whipped back around and pointed to the two witchers. “Your babysitting privileges are revoked until I feel like you can keep my children safe.” 

“I had white gull when I was your boy’s age and I turned out fine,” Lambert brushed you off nonchalantly. 

“You thinking that just proves her point.”

***** 

Yennefer and Ciri were also wintering at the keep as well. The two were in the courtyard when you and Eskel went off to train. Astry sat on Eskel’s shoulders, her little hands gripped tightly on his hair to steer him one way or the other. Eskel did not seem to mind the stings of pain. His hand merely held onto Astry’s ankles to prevent her from falling. 

Stokrotka had opted to stay in the library as per his fashion. Whether he had hid away in the large hall to read or to practice on his oud without anyone to hear, you weren’t quite sure. Either way, you had allowed him to run from the prospect of running drills without complaint. The boy had different interests than you and his sister and that was alright. 

Ciri was training as well. Only she didn’t play with wooden swords like you and Astry. She held a heavy silver sword in her hand, slashing and tearing through the straw dummies like they had personally offended her. Astry stood to the side, as per your request, and watched in awe. She had seen Eskel train before but Ciri had a very different fighting style. One that had Astry gasping and oohing out loud. 

“I want to try!” Astry exclaimed, watching as Ciri chopped off a dummy’s head in one clean swipe. 

“Perhaps when you’re older,” Yennefer replied with a smile that lacked any condescension. She, unlike Lambert and Coen, had some common sense in her. “I think it's best to start out with those wooden swords. That’s what your father began with.” 

“Really?” Astry was clearly skeptical. She peered up at Eskel as if daring him to lie to her. You chuckled into your hand at the sight, the witcher’s heightened senses hearing without comment. Eskel let go of your hand and kneeled down to Astry’s level.

“Ciri began with training weapons as well,” Eskel explained to his daughter. “But with practice and patience, she managed to hone her skills to be able to use a real sword without harming herself.” Eskel laid a gentle hand on Astry’s shoulder. “If you want to, you’ll get there someday.” 

Astry’s dark eyes lit up like fireworks. She looked at Eskel as if he were the bright sparks of colors himself. “I could be a witcher?!” 

Everyone laughed at her excitement. Astry bounced on the tip of her toes, her smile taking up most of the space on her face. Ciri paused in her training to walk over to Astry. Amusement was evident on the face of Geralt’s daughter. The two silver haired witchers had the same smug smile that you were tempted to wipe off if you had been on the end of it. 

“Yennefer here is teaching me how to be a mage as well.” 

Somehow, Astry’s eyes grew twice as large. 

*****

By nightfall of the third night, the children had explored the whole keep. Some of the rooms were restricted for their safety but they were allowed to peer in to know the reason why. Some of them lacked stable foundations while others had gaping holes in the walls that led straight off the cliff’s edge. Other safer rooms were left with their doors open for the children’s enjoyment. 

On occasion when Ciri had finished her training early, she would join them. Although she had been in the keep much longer, she enjoyed the adventure with your children. You could spot them running through the stone hallway from time to time. Eskel would talk of how he caught them riding down staircases on discarded mattresses. The three of them quickly grew as friends and as partners in crime. 

“I’m going to kill them,” you told Eskel flatly one night as the two of you were getting ready for bed. He poked his head out behind the divider and looked at you with affection. “Don’t give me that look. I really am going to kill those three.” 

“What did the children do now?” 

“They found a way to sneak in Lil’ Bleater and her…special surprises.” 

Eskel stalked closer to you. His chest was bare due to the interruption while he was undressing. Scars littered his tone chests, his muscles rippling with his calm breath. You tried to keep your eyes on his but failed. The sheer size of his torso momentarily made you forget your troubles with the children. 

Eskel coughed in disgust which drew you back to the conversation at hand. “I understand your sudden murderous intent.” Eskel pinched his nose shut, a playful smile at the edge of his cleft lips. “Lil’ Bleater’s surprises are known for their…potency. Perhaps you should venture down to the hot springs.” 

“You have no sympathy for me, do you, Eskel?” 

Eskel kissed you briefly with a teasing smile, “Not an ounce my dear.” 

*****

Besides the children’s antics, there was another stable in Kaer Morhen. Every afternoon Stokrotka would shut the library doors tight and play his oud. No one was allowed in without his explicit permission and even then, he would refuse to play in front of anyone. If questioned, he would merely answer, “It’s not quite finished yet. I still need to practice. Perhaps later.” Later typically meant never with the boy. 

But if one happened to be a witcher and a supportive father, one may or may not be able to catch chords and lyrics while passing the closed library. 

And specifically, who those lyrics address. 

It was not news to you that Stokrotka was a fan of all the famous bards: Drogodar of Cintra, Essi Daven of Cidaris, Le Papillon of Toussaintois, Callonetta of Kovir, and Valdo Marx of Cidaris. You knew far too much of them despite not being a bard yourself. Stokrotka spoke of them whenever someone had gained his trust. 

Eskel knew of them as well but Stokrotka’s favorite bard must have slipped his mind because he only realized then he knew the man. The way Stokrotka spoke of the bard was a tad idealized but Eskel was not going to stop the boy from having a harmless crush. Stokrotka could sing of cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw all he wanted. Eskel was a good father and all good fathers want only happiness for their children. 

Though, at times a little embarrassment never hurt no anyone. 

****** 

Geralt arrived usually late this year. He told the keep he had been caught up in some far off lord’s affair. For a man who complained of not wanting to get involved in human affairs, he tended to gravitate towards them. At the end of the day, all he had to show of them was a bad repudiation to some and a couple new scars. The coin was rarely ever good when stingy lords were involved. 

No matter Geralt’s poor choice in contracts, you and Eskel greeted him with kindness. Eskel with the hug of brothers and you with the embrace of close friends. The children were no longer hesitant about new guests among the keep. If one could make up the mountain trails with a smile on their face then they must be a friend of the wolf witchers. 

Astry gave Geralt a running hug much to the amusement and slight jealousy of the other witchers. She did not see any of the witchers as scary monster hunters. In the span of several weeks, the men had become her uncles. Uncle Geralt was just a late addition. 

“You look just like my Pa,” Astry exclaimed with excitement at the discovery. “You two look just alike. Are you twins?” 

Geralt laughed at Astry’s expression. He thought fondly of how Ciri used to look at him the same way when she was Astry’s age. “We trained at the same time but we aren’t twins,” Geralt explained to the now defeated looking Astry. 

“But you look just like twins, Uncle Geralt.” 

“The pretty boys act just alike,” Lambert exclaimed, “They’re the only two that got tied down by marriage.” 

Eskel approached his younger brother, clenching and relaxing his fists as he did so. “I wouldn’t call it being tied down, Lambert. I like to refer to it as finding someone that can put up with me. Someone that loves me for who I really am.” Eskel smiled at Lambert but it was not one of his brotherly ones. “Have you found someone like that?” 

“I prefer the freedom of prostitutes, personally.”  

“What’s a prostitute?” Astry asked and Stokrotka had taken that as his cue to leave for the library for the night. On any other occasion, Eskel would allow him to sneak off but tonight he had a surprise in store. 

“Something that I will explain to you once you’re older,” Eskel avoided the question, guiding Stokrotka back into the room. “Why don’t you go and meet Uncle Geralt?” Eskel addressed his son. 

“We met in the courtyard. He seems like a very nice man.” Stokrotka tried to push past Eskel but the older witcher was not budging to the boy who played with ouds as opposed to swords. “Please Pa, I did my niceties. May I please go?” 

“Don’t you want to show Uncle Geralt’s husband your new songs?” 

Before Stokrotka even knew who Eskel was citing, the lad was shaking his head in a firm no. Your boy did not like to share his work with anyone, whether that be his own mother or his uncle’s husband. It seemed like truly no one was allowed to hear his songs. 

“You’re a bard?” Geralt asked curiously with an expression that Stokrotka could not read. 

“In training, yes,” Stokrotka stated with his usual practical tone. 

“Why don’t you share your lyrics with me? I may know a thing or two about poetry. I traveled with a bard for decades.” 

Stokrotka looked at Geralt with skepticism. He peered up at the silver haired witcher and both you and Eskel knew what was about to happen. You could practically see Stokrotka’s mouth quiver with his need. “I mean this in the lowest form of offense but I don’t think just any traveling bard is able to compare to the teachings of the greatest bard on the continent. Ma gifted me with a print of Jaskier’s book years ago and his genius is simply unmatched. I know my songs need work just as nothing is truly perfect, however, I prefer to work alone as opposed to in pairs. Thank you for your offer, dear uncle, but I must politely decline.”

Stokrotka turned to address you and Eskel. You knew you hid your laughter poorly but the boy did not comment on your red faces. The others in the room were faring only marginally better. Yennefer had to silently threaten to ban Ciri from the room if she did not at least try to hide her crackle. Stokrotka ignored everyone and spoke in the voice of a begrudging diplomat. “If my parents deem it acceptable I will like to retire to the library where I will hopefully be uninterrupted. Is this arrangement agreeable with everyone?” 

“You’re retiring already?” came a voice from behind Stokrotka. “I would have liked to at least read your song book if you were not ready to perform them. I love seeing the work of budding new artisans.” 

Stokrotka shifted on his heel once more to reiterate his statement to the newcomer but for once, he was rendered speechless. The man in front of Stokrotka was the spitting image of the sketch of the continent's most famous bard, a sketch that Stokrotka kept in his oud case among his most prized possessions. His cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw were just as the sketch and tales had told of. They were perhaps more beautiful in person. 

Stokrotka stood with his mouth agape. 

“May I have the honor of seeing your work?” Jaskier asked the boy kindly. 

“Y-yes, of course, Jask—I mean sir. Yes, sir. Wait right here. Let me bring you my book and my oud.” With that Stokrotka rushed off to the library and the hall erupted into howls. The whole room shook with the combined laughter of witchers, mage, and man. Only Jaskier stood without a lively roar.  

“Laugh all you may want but that boy is among the politer of the bards in training that I have met.” Jaskier pulled you and Eskel into a warm embrace. He greeted you and you greeted him properly in turn. Astry wanted in on the affection and he honored her request in kind. Jaskier looked to you and Eskel and said, “You two have raised good children.” You knew he meant every word of it too.