#us doing a scream marathon when?????

[teddybeartoji]

HELPPPPP mickey got taken out like a joke 🙂‍↔️. rip to a legend fr

HIS DEATH WAS SO FUCKING LAMEE LIKE CMON NOWW I WANTED SOMETHING COOLER SOMETHING SEXIERRRR SMHHH

[caramelkoo]

behind your touch (18+)

jungkook x reader

genre : married couple, simp husband!Jungkook

summary : two introverts explore the sexier and much more hotter side of their relationship.

warnings : lots of smut and fluff, dual pov, Jungkook is a wild one and he's also a simp, they're adorable, oc is a tadbit nervous, they're newly married and so in love with eo, breeding kink, unprotected sex (please be safe), Oral (giving and receiving), Jungkook is dominant, hair pulling, spanking, he loves her ass, masturbating together. let me know if i missed something.

a/n : i have no idea which freaky monster was sitting on my shoulders when i wrote this. enjoy and if you're ovulating, goodluck. kisses <33

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

your pov

"One more, honey. Just give me one more"

Your husband's fingers pump into you as you tweak your nipples between your forefinger and thumb. The pleasure is so intense and burning, you almost see stars. Jungkook is on his stomach between your legs wide apart, his left hand is grabbing your left tit while his three fingers thrust into your wet pussy, thumb rubbing your clit. His face is hovering above yours and he nibbles on your ear.

"I- oh my god, Jungkook I can't" you whimper as you try to control your ragged breathing. He has your body totally at his mercy and you know he's not going to stop until he makes you come for the third time. You don't even know how he pulled one out of you the second time.

"I know you can. Let me see that beautiful pussy clench. Just like that."

His finger go even deeper inside you. He twists his forefinger in such a way, you almost scream before slapping your hand over your mouth but Jungkook takes a hold of your hand, removing it from your mouth.

he warns, "Don't you dare muffle your screams or else I'm gonna spank that perfect ass until it's red and hot"

That does it, your hands rapidly grab the taut silk bedsheet, pulling and undoing it as you arch your back. Sweat beads cover your forehead as you let out a scream before coming harder than ever before.

"FUCK" you pant.

Jungkook takes out his fingers before sucking them off. You look at him with lust in your eyes and sigh. When he's done he holds you close to him as you tuck your face into his neck. Patient as you come down, running his hands over your arms, breasts and ass.

"That's my girl, you did so good" he kisses your forehead.

While you feel like you've ran a marathon, his facial expression holds nothing but pride and affection.

"God, I wish you could see yourself from my eyes right now. A fucking sight"

You chuckle, "You're crazy"

Placing a chaste kiss on your cheek he eyes find you again, "How are you feeling, wife?"

Your cheeks instantly turn a deep shade of pink. It's been twenty days since you both have been married, promised to love each other till the day you die. However, you've still not gotten used to him calling you his wife and it appears he loves your flustered face given that he calls you that every chance he gets.

You ignore his snarky chuckle and reply, "Perfect. How are you feeling, husband?

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Jungkook nuzzles his face in your neck and squeals. His golden retriever personality has always been your favorite.

"I love hearing you call me that. Is this how you feel when i call you wife?"

Indeed you do but no way you're gonna tell him that. His ego has gone big enough for the day. You push him down by his shoulders and lower yourself down to his thick length. He's still wearing his black boxers but earlier somewhere in the process he's gotten rid of his shirt.

Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, you push them down and let his thick length spring free. Your mouth immediately waters seeing his tip red and angry, begging for attention. A drop of cum has formed on top of it.

"Honey, you don't have to do this" he assures pushing up from his elbows to look at you.

"I want to" you say taking him in your mouth as his grunt follows after.

"Fuck yeah, just like that. You're so good at this, baby. So so good" his head thumps back on the pillow. His stomach muscles are clenching hard resulting his abs to look more defined. You run your hands over them. His breathing picks up when you take him deeper and when you cup his balls, his hands grab a handful of your brown locks.

"_____, baby I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that" his hips come up pushing his cock to the back of your throat. He thrusts once, twice, thrice. The room is filled with wet noises and both of your moans. You've never heard of anything more beautiful. You've never seen anyone more beautiful than your husband.

"W-Want me to come in your mouth?" he asks as you nod frantically.

And he does. Another moans slips out of him as he grips your hair a bit tighter while also making sure not to hurt you. Your throat gets filled with his load.

"Swallow it, wife"

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Peace. If someone were to ask how your relationship is with Jungkook, you'd use the word peaceful. Love has all sort of forms and in your life where you are surrounded by so many people who love you, their love however, is slightly different yet equally precious.

For instance, there's passionate love then there's motherly love, bubbly love of a friend and nurturing love of a grandparent. When it comes to your husband, it's peaceful and calm. Your introvert personality had let people in the past assume the worst of you. The enormity of the fact that people think introverts are stand offish or impolite is beyond you.

It wasn't the case with Jungkook, though. Since you're both introverts it's never too quiet or too loud for you. A cup of coffee while you're sitting on his lap watching the sunset, taking a hot bath together where you both are not saying a word and letting silence wash over you, you reading your book while he plays his video game.

These moments might seem boring and mundane to a third party but for both of you, who feel like themselves in silence, they're more than just moments.

But that's not to say that there's no spark. That factor has certainly never been a matter of concern. Just like right now as you check yourself out in the bathroom mirror, your body has never looked this stunning. You're wearing a red lingerie which hugs your pear shaped body like a dream.

However, you can't seem to stop the fleeting feeling of nervousness creeping up in your stomach, twisting it into knots. This is new for you. Even in your past relationships you have never explored this much. It's only Jungkook's ability to make you comfortable in your body that has led you to this point. So, you take a deep breath and call out for him.

"Babe!!!"

"Yeah?" before you left him to execute your sexy little surprise, he was talking to his best friend, Jimin. It appears he's done talking.

Adjusting the bra strap, you yell again, "Can you close your eyes for me, please?"

"Why?" he's got to be kidding.

"JUST DO IT!!"

"Alright, alright woman"

You walk towards the door and twist the knob oh so slowly. You open the door slightly ajar and see him sitting on the corner of the bed and then only you walk out.

Standing four steps before him you speak, "Okay you can open them"

"That's what she said"

You huff out a laugh but quickly recover.

"Jeon Jungkook"

"Shit, you full named me? This must be serio-" his words come to a halt when his gaze falls on you.

A nervous smile breaks out of your full lips as you wait for him to continue. When he doesn't say anything you start to wonder if you overdid it but he doesn't give you much time to think further because the next thing you know is he's pushing you against the bedroom wall, lips colliding with yours.

You moan as your lips move together with him sucking your bottom one between his. It's sloppy, it's filled with saliva but you wouldn't have it any other way. Tonight, you want the sloppy and wet.

His mouth is soft and eager. One thing about kissing Jungkook is that it's never the same. It's different every fucking time and it only gets better. His tongue pushes in between your lips before you part them and allow it to slide against your own.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, "Jesus Christ,____. You're trying to kill me, baby"

"Do you like it?" you chuckle.

"Like it? You have no idea how many times I've gotten off to this visual. You look like a fucking goddess and you could ask for anything right now, I'd give it to you"

He shakes his head right to left like he still can't comprehend the sight in front of him. So you decide to help him.

"Fuck me"

"What?"

"I need you to fuck me, Jungkook." you ask him in a stern voice.

From the way he looks at you, it seems like he can't wait another second to get his mouth on you. Taking a step back, he looks at you up and down as if taking his fill. The moment the next words leave his mouth, you shiver.

"Strip"

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Jungkook's pov

"Strip"

The red lingerie pushes his wife's tits up as Jungkook is holds onto this slender thread of restraint, scared that if this gets any hotter, it'll snap. Her skin is so smooth and her lips are swollen from the rather burning kiss they shared earlier. The bulge in his sweatpants must be visible but he's not embarrassed about it.

A man can only handle so much. He looks at ______ with a fire and yearning that runs so deep he feels like it'll consume him whole. He wonders what made tonight worth it? is it the lingerie? is it the fact that they're newly married? is it the honeymoon?

No, It's because of the woman standing before him. It's because of the fact that he is the luckiest man alive on the planet to not only have a woman so sexy as his wife but also someone who is an outstanding daughter, a responsible sister and a human worth living for.

People talk about dying for their loved ones but what about living for them? What about living with them? When he was standing at the alter with ______ standing in front of him just like now he had made a promise to himself that he will live for her everyday. He will make every single day worth it for her so that she will choose him again as her husband in her next life.

The red fabric of cloth falls down with a subtle thump on the ground and his eyes travel all over _____ body. Her slender legs, a dark mole just above her left knee, stretch marks looking like lightening travelling from her navel down to her knees, the curve of her waist he has always loved to hold and kiss, her tits with perky nipples begging for attention and then finally her face.

"Come here and lie down on the bed" she does as he says.

When she gets comfortable enough and looks at him he asks her to spread her legs.

"Show me that pretty pussy, sweetheart" she spreads her legs slowly as if teasing him. He sucks in a deep breath before slipping out of his sweatpants and letting his cock spring free. It slaps against his stomach and he gives it a pump.

"I'm going to fuck you real nice but before that I want to watch. Don't worry though, I'll let you watch too" his voice is as husky as ever.

He walks back to the chair in the corner of the room and sits himself down. His wife looks at him with so much innocence and wonder, for a second he considers changing his mind and snuggle her to sleep but then again, she asked for it so she'll get it.

"Slip one finger inside, baby. Make sure to do it slowly, I want you to feel it well. Soak in the feeling"

"Jungkook, I'm not sure-"

"Hey, I'm right here, my love. I'm in this with you but reconsider it and if you're still not sure, we'll stop" he gently assures her, respecting her boundaries.

______ thinks for a while before taking a deep breath and nodding. Her hand slowly travels down to her stomach and finally to her wet cunt.

"Perfect, now rub your clit slowly and then slide a finger inside" she follows his commands as she lets out a light moan, her head tipping back in pleasure. It's just the beginning.

Jungkook's hands work up and down his length as he seeks his own pleasure but he's not sure how long he can last with the look on his wife's face. It's the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. She's his strength but fuck if she doesn't make him weak in the knees. Both of their moans fill the room with several "fuck" and "oh my god" following right after.

As _____ slides her finger inside and pumps it, he also fastens the pace of his pumping.

"Two more in, baby. Give it everything I know you're close" he manages to speak in a low voice.

"Jungkook, it's too much ahhh" she whines as she arches her back off the bed and he can see her pussy going moist and swollen indicating she's almost there. His hands pump as fast working his veiny cock between his tattooed hands and as soon as his wife lets out another loud moan, his orgasm follows making him throw his head back as he comes down from the high.

When he finally gets a hold of himself, he catches a look at her. She's breathing rapidly and caressing her stomach. Walking up to her he kneels down facing her sex and puts his mouth on it, sucking loudly.

"JUNGKOOK-"

Jungkook's eyes look up to her as he slides his tongue up and then down her pussy cleaning her off as she grabs his hair in response and yanks him up. He obliges and hovers over her before taking the same fingers that were inside her as he pushes them against her lips. She opens those kissable lips and tastes herself.

"Do you understand how divine you taste now?"

_____ hums as her lips release the finger with a loud pop. His eyes trace her face lovingly. _____ has exactly ten moles on her face and his favorite is the one on her upper lip. It's meant to be kissed just like the other ones.

"You're staring"

"I like looking at you. You're the loveliest person ever, do you know that? How did I even get so lucky?"

_____ grins and it's the only thing he ever wants to see on her face.

"Tell me how you want my cock wife and I'll give it to you" His eyes are glue to her face. He could look at her all day and not get bored.

"I- I want it from behind if that's okay" there is a hint of hesitation in her voice and he doesn't like it. But that's okay because he plans on making her as comfortable as possible tonight.

When he turns her on her stomach and guides her ass upwards, her face down on the mattress, she gasps but doesn't object.

"Are you okay with me spanking this ass, honey? Want me to tell you how bad I want you?" she whimpers.

"Yes, please"

"That's a good fucking girl" his doesn't wait a second longer before giving a slap on the globe of her ass, only to slap it once more while also making sure not to hurt her in the process. His palms paint her pale skin.

He works her clit pulling a loud moan out of her. _____ breath is picking up the pace again as sweat beads her back glistening it in the best way possible. He notches the head of his cock at her entrance and pushes inside with a force that takes both of their breaths away.

"Fuck" he cries out and she whines.

He pulls himself outside before thrusting back inside, "Fuck, I love you, _____. You're the best thing that happened to me. Every morning- ugh- every morning I get excited just because of the fact that I get to see this pretty face. You beautiful, strong, gentle of a woman and you're all mine"

His thrusts fasten, he gives three kisses on the dimples of her back as he fucks her from behind just like she asked.

"I love you, baby" he hears her reply back, her voice breathy.

"You like that?"

thrust

"You like how I'm giving it all to you, huh?"

thrust

"You like being at my mercy? Desperate and needy?"

thrust

"Want me to give you a baby,hmm? Make you look all mine?" His final thrust goes even deeper before he turns her on her back. He pulls out and freezes. The woman he's married to is looking like a fucking angel who also has been fucked raw and good. He couldn't be more in love with her.

"Sweetheart, I wanna try something but I need to you to trust me, alright? I'll never hurt you" when he gets a nod from _____ he uses his knees to move up to her until he just above her stomach.

"Push those tits together for me" he commands.

So, she does. ______ doesn't hesitate this time and his chest grows another inch with pride. Her tits squeeze up with the help of her palms and Jungkook carefully slips his cock into the tight channel. Her chest is decorated with the hickeys he's given her this morning.

It takes five thrusts for him to come on her chest. White, hot liquid covers his wife's chest as he quickly pushes himself sideways and lies down beside her with a loud thump.

"Christ, that was so good" he pants.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before running to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel. He swipes it all over her chest as he cleans her off. She's still looking at him with the same love and passion in her eyes as before. Nothing has changed and nothing will change.

As soon as he's done cleaning up and gets ready to talk his wife's ears off, her soft snores pull at his attention. Giggling to himself as he covers her with the duvet pulling it taut so she can be warm and cozy, he gets comfortable beside her and prepares to go into a deep slumber.

A hand wraps around his stomach making his silly, romantic heart flutter and _____ places her head on his chest.

Placing a chaste kiss on her temple and nose, he whispers into the darkness, "Goodnight, honey. Thank you for being mine"

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 2 : Surprise visitor

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, collar, praise kink, masturbating in secret, handjob, voyeurism, teasing, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking, reader is horny too and L bomb

Word count: Over 2K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

You sat on your bed, putting headphones in your ears. It had been a truly tiresome day, so you figured that a little alone time was well deserved before doing any house chores. Setting comfortably against your pillows, you selected one of those “man moaning and whimpering” audios. You closed your eyes as the delectable sounds filled your surrendering. 

You were starting to get into it, when suddenly, a moan seemed to have been louder than the others. They were also small whimpers…Weird…You decided to not pay much attention to this as your body relaxed. Your hand creeped down your pants when you went in the mood again. 

You were making rhythmic movements, trying to imagine a pathetic man in front of you making all these slutty moans. Even in your while enwrapped in your fantasy, you swore some noises were always too loud to be coming from your headphones. You used your clean hand to pause the audio and there it was again! A small whimper!

You checked your phone and no, the audio hadn’t started again. It was so faint that it was difficult for you to pinpoint where it was coming from. You took out your headphones and really tried to concentrate on the source of the noises. It almost sounded like an injured animal, maybe a cat had gotten into your apartment ? You knew that one of your neighbors had one, so it wasn’t impossible. You sigh in defeat, knowing that you wouldn't be able to finish what you started. You took a blanket and got off your bed. You roamed around the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to alarm the poor unknown creature. As you got closer to your closet you could feel your heart pulsating in your ears, the whimpers were coming from there. You raised the blanket, ready to throw it if the animal showed any sign of aggressivity.  

In one swift motion you opened the closet door. And there was… Jacce sitting on the ground, pumping his cock forcefully. He was so engrossed by the smell of your shirt covering his face, that he had failed to remember to keep it down. You didn't even scream or move. You felt like you dissociated from your body, as if you were watching this surreal outcome from a second point of view. 

The man opened his eyes when he was just about to cum, finally noticing you standing in full height before him— just like he had fantasized on so many occasions, but this time it was real. 

“F—ngahh—uck.” His eyes rolled back for a second, his body shuddering while he ejaculated. Ropes of cum shooting unintentionally in your direction.  

His sudden climax reactivated your nerve system. You dropped the blanket on him, ran out of the room and into the living room. Not only was there a man that broke into your house to masturbate, this intruder was JACCE! The barista you liked! This was the most horrifying situation you've ever been in. You regretted dreading that it could have been a wild animal, because it would have been better than whatever this was. 

You could hear shuffling noises behind you, certainly him trying to put his junk back into his pants as fast as possible.

“Hey w-wait.”

When you turned to face him, his expression was still stuck in this dazed state of the aftermath of cumming. Like clockwork every time he took a step forward you would step back.  

“Y-you weren’t… supposed to see th-this.” He breathed out like he ran a marathon, “let me ex-explain before doing anything… p-please.” 

Jacce looked down at your hands before looking back at you. You didn’t answer but didn’t make a move either. The man took that as a sign to continue. 

“I… I know what it looks like… A guy that you barely know, touching himself in your closet… in your house…” He hesitated at the last part, “but I’m not a creep! I-I did this because I love you!”

Love me?! You had noticed before that he gave you more special treatment compared to other clients… but you never expected this! You felt your body getting weaker, as if you were about to faint from the stress. 

“Are you… going to hurt me?”

Jacce's expression seemed to drop at the question, as if he was heartbroken that you thought he would do such a thing. This was not going as planned and he hated himself for it. You weren’t supposed to find him in your closet. You weren’t supposed to see him like this. 

“I could n-never hurt you! I love you!” He was speaking with conviction, “I just want to be there for you! To serve you like you deserve… If anything you should be the one hurting m—”  

“What are you talking about?!” You cutted him short in a panic, “I don’t want t-that!”

“What!? B—But I can be so good for you!” His voice raised slightly in desperation,  “most guys are too stupid to even split the house chores! I'm ready to do everything for you!”

You stepped back while he kept walking forward. He was so absorbed in waves of emotions to notice the fear in your eyes. He gripped his shirt, his hands trembling and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. 

“I would NEVER take you for granted! I would be the most attentive and obedient person in your entire life!” His entire body was now shaking violently, “I don’t even have to be your boyfriend, I can be your pet!” 

You didn’t know what to do. Your brain was going thousand miles an hour, making it near impossible to settle on something. While trying to think clearly, you also had to focus on what he was saying. He kept going on and on about the fact the he wanted to… serve you. What if it was true and not just excuses to make himself look less bad? 

You decided to test your luck. It's not like you had another choice. Jacce was taller than you and getting him more agitated was not a good idea. You builded up all the energy you had left and talked over him in an authoritarian tone. 

“Sit down against the wall.”

And he did. 

All the panic that contortionned his face had completely disappeared, replaced by an expression of anticipation. He looked sincere about his intentions… but you couldn’t totally believe him just yet. The fear in your guts was still present, but it was slowly being overshadowed by something else. Your mind kept wandering back to the whimpers he cried out while touching himself and how cute he looked all desperate. You could sense the familiar sensation creeping between your legs the longer you looked down at him. Jacce seemed to be also stimulated by the turn of events, because he quickly placed his hands between his legs, not wanting to blow up his small chance with you. This pose gave him an even more submissive look, which made you go crazy. 

What if… maybe we could both take advantage of this situation. 

You were indeed craving for someone like this. Until now you could only find them in fiction and even then it was hard to dig them out in the sea of dominant love interests. Jacce would get your attention and you would be able to feast upon the site of his patheticness. You were definitely twisted to consider this outcome about a man who broke into your house, but it’s not like you would be doing anything wrong. It's your house so your rules on how to deal with intruders. 

“Let me see what's happening between your legs.”  You tried to keep the confident facade as you spoke. 

Jacce's shoulders jolted a bit in embarrassment, but he did reveal the tent in his pants. He looked so disheveled with his flushed face and his coat lazily falling off one his shoulders. So hot. 

“Do you want me to make it better?” Your voice was dripping with such honey, that you were even shocked by it. 

He nodded frantically. Consent was something crucial and he had just gave it to you with indisputable enthusiasm. 

You got down on your knees to get better access to him. You reached your hand out for his bulge, caressing it, which made his body tremble in anticipation. You unzipped his pants and slightly pulled at the rim of his boxers. His erection sprong out, finally letting you have a good look at it. His dick was 6.5 inches, the foreskin pulled back to reveal his pink gland, now on the verge of turning red. The tip was crowned with little pearls of precum, some of them sliding down his shaft like water drops on a car window. It made your mouth salivate just by thinking of wrapping your lips around it and admire his face contorted in pleasure. 

Jacce was clearly trying to stay quiet, but when you spat in your hand, he couldn’t help but whimper at the thought of what was going to happen. You rubbed your palm on his tip, which made him buck his hips, before wrapping your fingers around it. Your thumb was barely reaching your index finger and that warmed your lower half even more. The idea of something like this stretching your inside was so enticing.

“T–thank y–you… Haah… I’ll be so so good to you, I promise.” 

Jacce leaned in, clinging to the front of your shirt. At last he was feeling your divine touch. A part of him still couldn’t believe the turn of events. He imagined that you would have at least tried to hit him or something. But no, there you were, willingly giving him a handjob like a merciful master. You squeezed the base of his shaft, admiring the precum oozing out of the tip. You started to stroke him at a medium pace. Surprisingly, his voice was more soft spoken than what you expected. He was murmuring needingly into your ear while his drool stains your clothes. Jacce was still sensitive, since he had already cum not too long ago, causing him to swallow back cries multiple times. 

“If you want me to continue you’ll have to answer some questions, ok?” 

You felt like you were babying this grown man, talking to him like that. But he didn’t seem to mind, since he nodded without a complaint. Your grip started to loosen up tho, since that wasn’t a satisfying answer. 

“Use your words or I’ll stop making you feel good.” 

“I’ll–I’ll answer!” He whined.

“Good job.”

He shivered at the praise. That’s what he had dreamed of hearing from you for months. You picked up the paste again, pumping him harder. His head fell back as he unconsciously reached one hand out to his hidden collar. You were taken aback at the sight of it. How depraved is this guy!? Without thinking, you placed your index and middle fingers in the loop and tugged at it, making him moan like never before while jerking his head back up. You were pretty sure he almost came just from that. 

“First question… How long have you been stalking me?”

“I st–started five months ago Mmm-Ahh… ” He sobbed, it was so hard for him to speak, “Y-you were always so n–nice to me when you N-gh came into the coffee shop. I wanted to kn-know more.”

You’ve been going to that place for about a year, so at least he hasn’t been doing it for that long. You were a bit taken aback that you never suspected anything though. This guy has been either really good or very lucky until now. 

“Do you break into my house often?”

“N-no.”

You abruptly stop touching him, forcing him to speak again.

“I–I swear! I only did it six times!”

He arched his back and whimpered, urging you to stroke him again, which you happily obliged. It was hard not too! 

“P-please u-use me, use me, use me! I want to be your dumb ngAhhh little puppy…” 

The words were spilling out of his mouth with pure urgency and he bucked his hips against your palm uncontrollably. All clear signs that he was close to release. You couldn’t count the number of times you fantasized about turning someone into such a mess, but now that you were experiencing it, your simple imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Your own self control started to waver the more it went on. Jacce knew that he was about to cross his limit as well, closing his eyes shut, preparing himself. But the grip around his cock loosened, until it completely disappeared. He whined and moved his hips, searching for the touch of your warm hand again. 

“W–why did you stop? I–I told you what you wanted to k-know!” 

You didn’t answer, only looking at him with an indecipherable expression. All the moans, whimpers and other noises he let out, made you so horny that it was becoming too much to bear, but you knew it would make him way too happy to be used to make you cum. You couldn’t let him release either. He didn’t deserve it, not yet anyway. 

“I’m not letting you cum.” 

“Wh-what!? W-why?!” He complained again. 

“You broke into my house and stalked me for five months.” You swiftly got on your feet, “bad boys don’t deserve to ejaculate.”

Bad boy was like the last nail into the coffin for the pathetic mess. In Jacce’s top ten of the worst things you could say to him this one was pretty high. Small tears rolled down his cheeks as a result.  

“You… you’re right… I’m sorry.” He sniffed.

You did feel a little bit bad for making him cry and wanted to fuck him dumb too. No, not tonight. You had to hammer that in your brain to resist your desires. You decided to at least help him a bit before kicking him out. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.” 

“N-no! I–I’m supposed to be the one to–to take care of you.” he whined.

You gave him a stern glance, which shut him up instantly. You came back with a bottle and a wet towel in hand, crouched down in front of him and handed out the water. He took it, chugging it halfway in one go. 

“T-thanks, you’re so nice to me… even when I don’t deserve it.” He whispered, looking away with a subtle smile on his lips. You could sense that, despite his guilty look, he was celebrating this whole situation on the inside. 

With the towel you cleaned off his cock, still covered in a mixture of your spit and his cum. Jacce was looking at you like a puppy who made a mess and was watching his master taking care of it. His breath was getting heavy again and you could feel his cock twitching through the towel. He was totally getting turned on at how gentle and attentive you were to him. This had transformed into the perfect domestic fantasy in Jacce’s twisted mind. 

“I’ll help you to the door if you think your legs aren’t strong enough yet.”

“I thought you accepted me! Can’t I stay!?” 

“I haven’t made my final decision yet.” You crossed your arms,“if you really are a good boy you will let me think about it.”

Hanging over his head the possibility of being yours was enough for him to accept your request. He didn’t even consider the fact that you could call the police the second he leaves. Besides, the fact that you decided to touch him, instead of all the other decisions possible, was making him a bit more confident. After helping him up, you opened the front door and waited for him to leave. Jacce stopped, now the roles were reversed with his figure overtowering you. 

“You promise to think about it?” He whispered anxiously. 

“Yes, now please get out.”

He nodded and you watched Jacce for a bit to make sure he was really leaving, before closing the door. You looked down at the spot where the desperate man was previously sitting. You could feel your guts twist again, urging you to satisfy the heat between your legs. You sighed as you went into your room. The dirty audios you used to listen to were definitely not going to be enough to satisfy you anymore. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I love nothing more then making a reader who is horny for the yandere too 😌

Link for the chapter on Ao3

Here is an other old sketch I made for this chapter back in 2023!

[kitten4sannie]

middle of the night

pairing: boyfriend! san x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: these days, san can never seem to get a good night’s rest, that is, until he’s able to completely unload himself inside his pretty little girlfriend. good thing you‘re laying right next to him.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: mean dom! san, subby painslut! reader, both of these mfs are nymphos, somno that turns into full blown sex (they have an established agreement and there is strict consent involved), san’s got a big curved cock as per usual, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, manhandling, tit play, spit, finger sucking, pussy slapping, marking, possessiveness, spanking, vaginal/anal sex also known as the two for one special <3 (psa: never switch from ass to pussy irl btw), rough altered missionary/doggy/back to missionary, san puts reader in a headlock (muahahahah), creampies, squirting, breeding kink, bulge kink, dumbification, brief oral, san eats his own cum out of reader, this is really filthy btw i should be locked up :3c

a/n: i literally can’t stop writing bc of the horneee that is constantly brought upon me against my will 😞 it’s all san’s fault </3 also i realized i’ve only written one fic about somno like two thousand years ago even tho it’s in my top ten kinks so i gotta fix that <3 *screams* i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed coming up with it~

song recs: angel by massive attack - beware by deftones (GRRRRRRRR BARK BARK)

San couldn’t seem to stop tossing and turning in bed, forcing his eyes shut and waiting for one side of his pillow to grow far too hot for comfort, before letting out a frustrated groan and rolling onto his other side, his cheek squished against the feathered pillow. Squinting at the glowing analog clock on the bedside table across from him, San blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the darkness inside the room. It was already nearing dawn and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. There had to be some kind of solution.

It was then that you shifted besides him, emitting a soft moan and rolling onto your back, your loose tank top lowered just enough so that one of your tits had popped out of it, creating another obstacle for San to overcome, one that wouldn’t let him fall asleep until he confronted it.

“Fuck,” San whispered to himself, pushing the covers down far enough to confirm his growing problem. With half-closed, tired eyes, your boyfriend watched his cock repeatedly throb upwards against his loose black sweatpants, as if it was begging him to do something, and quick.

Hs thought back to a conversation you had earlier that week, one you brought up after he had just got done fucking you all over the house in every position imaginable. Like many of your sex marathons, it was initiated because of something simple — you being bent over the washing machine to fill it up with a load of detergent, which, of course, led to San filling you up with his own load in every possible area of your house, including the back patio when you tried to water your poor succulents.

“Sannie, you might as well fuck me when I’m asleep too, at this point,” you giggled, running your fingers through San’s soaked hair, admiring the way he looked in between your legs, with his mouth and tongue exploring your leaking, cum-filled cunt.

“You mean that, angel? My dumb slut wants me to fuck her even dumber in her sleep?” he asked in between licks, humming softly as he continued to languidly clean you up after the destruction he caused to your used hole. It was his favorite pastime, besides rearranging your insides and painting them white with his seed, of course.

Moaning at his mean words, you tugged on his hair, rubbing your soaked pussy in his face like you always did. “Yes, I mean it, baby. Now, shut up and clean up your mess.”

Before San knew it, he was hovering over you, your thighs wide open and resting against his own, your loose, nonexistent sleep shorts tossed to the side so that he could eagerly rub his slick cock along your plush folds, his thick, calloused fingers exploring every inch of your heated skin, groping at your soft thighs, your hips and waist, eventually getting distracted by your tits, rolling your tank top up over them until they spilled out into his greedy hands. He squeezed and rolled them around, bringing his drooling mouth down to your chest to drag his hot tongue up and over your tits until they shined with his spit, pinching your puffy nipples in between his teeth until you whined out in your sleep, feeling your arousal leak out onto his pulsing cock when he finally pushed inside.

“Mmn, my angel is such a good little cocksleeve, so fucking wet for me even in her sleep,” San sighed lovingly to himself, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, spitting on it for good measure, before exchanging it for the other, moaning around your soft flesh, his eyes never leaving your pretty flushed face, even though you weren’t even awake to look down at him.

Unable to hold himself back, he began to buck his hips wildly into you like he always ended up doing when your tight, warm cunt sucked him in the way it did, the headboard beginning to bang loudly against the wall behind it. Grunting, San licked up from your spit-laced chest to your neck, sucking and biting into it, leaving his mark on you. “My baby, my sweet girl, you’re mine, all mine, even when you’re dreaming,” he whispered against your slick skin, slowly pulling back when he heard the breathy gasps you were letting out turn into full-blown moans.

“S-sannieee, I’m so full,” you voiced in a sleepy tone, reaching up to rub your tired eyes, studying your boyfriend’s rosy cheeks and lips, the way his drenched hair stuck to his forehead, a few drops of sweat landing on your face, unable to look away from his intensely dark, lust-filled gaze. “Is my pussy making Sannie go crazy?”

A low growl erupted from San’s throat, a vein starting to grow taut against his skin, now that he was pounding into you with abandon, reaching up underneath your thighs to forcibly fold you in half like you were nothing but a doll for him to use. “Your slutty cunt always drives me crazy, princess, so be good and take responsibility, hm?”

Barely able to breath now that you were akin to origami, your brain grew delightfully fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, encouraging the hazy, half-asleep state you were still in and the oversized cock that was being driven relentlessly into your cervix to work in tandem until pleasure overtook your body to the point of orgasm. “Fuck, Sannie, baby, fffuuck, I’m cumming…!”

“Oh, my dirty girl, creaming yourself so soon?” San mused with his lips quirked into a shit-eating grin, his dimples and canine teeth on display. Just as your eyes begin to disappear underneath your fluttering eyelids, San suddenly grabbed you by the chin, reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to smack his hand down roughly against your spasming cunt. “Look at me when you’re squirting on my cock, baby. You know better.”

“S-sannie, it’s so, oh my god–” you cried out, opening your mouth to moan and instead feeling his thumb slide over your tongue, your lips closing around it. You continued to suck on his thumb as he fucked you through your first mind melting orgasm of the night, biting into it when he smacked your cunt again with his free hand.

“Owww, bad girl.” San watched you lick and suck on his thumb with a lecherous smile plastered on his red, sweaty face, rubbing his other thumb roughly into your puffy clit, rolling it in circles until he felt your thighs trembling nonstop against his moving body, suddenly stopping his movements to sheath himself fully inside you, groaning heavily as he flooded your pulsing cunt with his hot load. “Mm, you feel that, princess? I’m pumping all my cum into this slutty womb of yours, so I can get you nice and knocked up for me…You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Just as he pulled his thumb out of your drooling mouth, you clasped your hands onto his cheeks, looking up at him hearts in your teary eyes, and begging, “Yes, Sannie, I like it, love it so much. Can I have more?”

And there it was. You might’ve been the love of his life and his beautiful angel of a girlfriend, but you were still his personal breeding bitch at the end of the day — and in the middle of this hazy, sleepless night.

“Oh, yeah?” San hummed, slowly pulling out of you and running his fingers through his wet hair, just for it to fall back into his half-lidded eyes, watching as his cum began to flood out of your gaped, fluttering hole. He wanted nothing more than to eat it out of you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting the warm saltiness mixed with your sweet squirt on his lips, but he still had to pursue his mission of pleasing his baby. “My little slut still hasn’t had enough?”

“No, Sannieee, I need your cock in my other breeding hole. Please?” you whined softly, pouting up at him, hoping you’d get your way now that you were fired up and desperate for him to fill and own as many of your holes as he could before the both of you fell victim to drowsiness.

San closed his eyes to ground himself for a second, not even fully prepared for the filth that you exuded, despite being quite the pervert himself. When he opened his eyes back up, he looked down, his curved cock now painfully stiff and twitching upwards into his heaving abdomen, somewhat winded from how hard he had been fucking you just a moment ago. “Head down, ass up, little slut. Don’t make me ask twice.”

And just like that, you were lying with your head pressed into bed, drooling heavily from both ends, getting saliva onto the arousal stained mattress, your sopping wet cunt pushing out all of San’s load and causing it to drip down your inner thighs, your weak, bruised knees wobbling beneath you, your ass being relentlessly pounded into by your ravenous boyfriend. “Gonna cum, gonna cum–”

Your warning was cut off by a sharp gasp, just as San’s hand collided with the side of your reddened ass, his fingers grabbing into the soft, sensitive flesh until you whimpered pathetically. “You’re such a filthy slut, aren’t you?” he growled between gritted teeth, smacking the other side of your ass and making you cry out before you could answer him properly. He suddenly pulled out of your ass and forced himself back into your cunt, stuffing you completely full, hunching over you so that he could put you in a headlock, loose enough so that you remained conscious, but tight enough so that you could feel deliciously dizzy. “You’re my filthy slut. All mine to fuck raw, to ruin, to breed. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely, opening your mouth up to accept his tongue inside when he closed in on you, feeling breathless once he manipulated your body until you were back underneath him, your legs near your head, his cock so deep inside your cunt that the tip of it created a prominent bulge inside your stomach, one that San was already palming as he began to shudder, his lips, teeth and tongue attacking your neck again to leave more marks, darker ones that you would have to put concealer over before you went to work the following morning. “That’s it, that’s it, cum inside me, San, please, make me yours!”

“You’ve been mine since the beginning, angel, but I’ll make you mine again, and again, and again,” San exhaled onto your lips, wrapping his arms protectively around you, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his tip just about kissing the entrance of your cervix, your bodies so entangled together, neither of you knew where the other began. You gazed into each other’s hazy eyes, moaning into each other’s open mouths, as another seemingly endless flood of thick, hot cum claimed your womb. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

“I love you too, San,” you sighed back, caressing his heated face, your fingers slipping into his hair just as he began to lower himself down, shuddering at the sensation of his lips and teeth making their mark on your chest, abdomen, hips, then gasping when he made his way to your center, his hot tongue slipping inside your pulsing cunt.

Like every time before, San ate his warm load out of you like a starved man, his nose nudging your sensitive clit as he moved his head in an up and down motion, coaxing more of the saltiness onto his tongue, reaching up to rapidly rub your clit just because he could, pleased with the way you began to cry and shake, your warm squirt pouring down his throat. He swallowed it all down with a low, pleased groan, dragging his tongue up and over your used, puffy cunt to collect the last few drops of nectar, before he finally felt tired enough to collapse down onto the bed next to you.

With the last ounce of his strength, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, letting you taste your combined essence. “Bedtime?” San whispered, cradling and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at you with a fondness that bordered obsession. He chuckled softly, giving you a dimpled smile. “I promise I won’t wake you up again.”

“You won’t wake me up, but you still might fuck me in my sleep? Huh, nympho?” you teased jokingly, cradling his face back, so close that you breathed in the same air, your eyes never leaving his, despite how heavy your eyelids began to feel. “I need my sleep, you know.”

San was in a similar state, starting to drift off, his hands leaving your face so that he could wrap them protectively around you. “Sorry, baby. I’ll try to be quieter next time,” he murmured, letting out a soft giggle, pressing a kiss to your lips just as his eyes began to close. “Just don’t be mad at me when you wake up with my cock still inside you…”

Leaving a kiss on his nose, your eyes started to close as well, completely relaxing into your boyfriend’s warm embrace. “I’ll be mad if it’s not still inside me.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

gen tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny @lvnderhazes @knucklesdeepmingi @soobiverse @jeongwangjessmina @ja3hwa @actuallyalien @aggiebackstage @doom-fics @koalakoala8 @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[trollprincess]

So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

[r0-boat]

WHB Asmodeus Nsfw Alphabet

This is going to be the most unholy thing I've written aaaa

Cw: feminization Kink, slightly misogynist?? (He thinks he is the ultimate male and anyone That isn't him are underneath him and his to take) , breeding/pregnancy, aphrodisiac, pheromones, Marathon sex, primal Kink, noncon, (honestly I think he should be a trigger warning in itself)

Gn! Mc

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Good males take care of their females; they should cherish their lover's body just as passionately. Since he is the prime partner, he is the king of aftercare.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Don't get me wrong, he does like seeing come all over you, but All of his seed must go in you. Whether it be your mouth or your whole body, you had better not waste a single drop. And if any does, he'll just use it as an excuse to fill you up again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don't think it's a secret but... He wants to have and orgy with all the kings and you. Even if they don't let him touch them. He would be just fine to see how they fuck you.

Oh how he dreams of seven of the most powerful demons in hell descending upon you like rabid sex addicted beasts ruining you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Honey he is the experience...

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press, pressing your body down, forcing you to do nothing else but take him.

With gravity and the wild thrusting of his hips doing all the work as he jackhammers down into you nice and deep, gravity will do all the work for him when he finally explodes deep inside of you.

All that while he holds you tightly his hands giving access to your body, as well as his eyes and nose to take you in.

The two of you will be consumed in each other

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Yes. He knows he looks intimidating, So it's surprising, but instead of taking you right there and then, he wants to talk to you, crack jokes, tease you, and be goofy; he needs to get all that out before he fucks you so hard. You can only respond in moans and screams.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sometimes. Really depends on his mood.

Sometimes, he does shave, but most of the time, he has a little bit of hair down there as well as a happy line going up to his belly button.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think Asmodeus is very intimate with hugs, kisses, cuddling, and rubbing against you.

He will spoil you. he is the romance. If he really wants you, He will make it known.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Asmodeus jacks off before sex, And it's always before sex. He can't help it. He just gets a little excited :). When you're taking your clothes off? He's touching his dick. When he's kissing you? Fucking his hand.

He's touching himself until he's inside you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He likes everything but he has a few that drives him wild.

Asmodeus loves primal sex, biting, wrestling, growling, fucking doggy, and predator/prey. Demons, Angels, or humans are all animals and slaves to their instincts.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT-.

"But Ro, what if I'm a dude?" Not with him, you're not. He wants you nice and cute for him, a lovely little dress perhaps? Makeup so he could make it run later. Some lovely stocking that hugs your thighs. Why are you so nervous, Child of Solomon? You look so adorable!

He wants to corrupt you and give you kinks that you never thought you would have. Make you drunk on his scent and cock until you're nothing but his mindless little cock slave lover. Wouldn't that be nice? If it were up to him. If it were really up to him. After this silly little war, He would keep you barefoot and pregnant; he's already lost two of his lovers... He will not lose another one.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere everywhere.

However, there is nothing more sexy than taking you in front of an audience That looks at you, hungry for a taste, but they're not allowed to have you until he's done unless permission is given.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything could turn him on. You could be with him, his arm around you, and he could start whispering how much he fucking wants you right now. He only gives you warnings and meetings, though. If not, he'll just drag you somewhere else to fuck you. You're not safe.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nope :) He's a whore your honor

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mmm, mouths. He likes mouths, inexperienced or not, you'll have you gagging on his cock. Your muffled cries and gags will make him throb.

On the other hand, his mouth tasting your sweet, sweet juices. Eating you out like a starving man, he'll make you cry and scream on his tongue alone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes slow and sensual, but Asmodeus prefers primal. He wants to bite you on the neck and take you hard and fast. Chasing orgasm after orgasm until you are full and bred, and even then, I don't think he'll stop.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies do not exist to Asmodeus, a concept of a quickie for him lasts for a day.

"You want me to stop being inside you because you have something else more important? What's more important than me???"

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh, he experiments. You'll not be doing the same thing twice, that's for sure. Well, except for breeding, just let him fill you up, please, just one more time...

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Literally days, literally days... You will not leave that bed for 3 to 4 business dick appointment days

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh yes definitely He has a whole closet full of toys and that's not even his full collection. There's more in the prison!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Seeing you so small and pitiful, having you whine and beg for his cock fills his ego please do it more.

"Just one more whimper? Come on beg me one more time... Oh darling say my name like that again; I promise I'll be inside you soon just do that again!"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, grunting, growling, groaning, mewling moaning everything

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Asmodeus has bad bad baby fever.

He misses being a father. Not only that, he also misses filling someone up to the brim, knowing full well that they are claimed. He misses the way breasts swell when they are full with milk. And he misses that swollen tummy when it's filled with his spawn.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not too big not too small literally perfect, beautiful cock that looks so good it's fake.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

No. Man has infinite stamina. Infinite stamina to leave you curled up in his bed he'll smile because he knows no one can be as hungry as he can. He'll kiss you and leave you there as he goes off to do something else or do someone else, lol.

[visionsofcarnality]

can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵

i like the way you think…

Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!

Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.

Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.

Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.

Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.

But when he takes Viagra-

You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.

I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.

Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.

You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.

When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.

Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?

Speaking of groceries…

If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.

He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.

Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.

“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.

Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”

Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.

Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.

Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.

Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.

That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.

This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.

Like, I cannot stress that enough.

If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.

His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.

Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.

But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.

You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.

But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.

When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.

this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!

[wildflowerhuggy]

Just a dream // OP81

| pairing: oscar piastri x reader

| summary: reader has a bad dream that oscar gets hurt and goes to him for comfort

| warnings: reader is implied female, use of y/n(i rlly tried not to i swear)

| authors note: wrote this instead of studying for a final :D

You're standing in the garage, your heart pounding in your chest as the roar of the engines reverberates through the air. Oscar's car zooms past in a blur of papaya and black. Everything is perfectly normal until it isn't. Taken over by an uncontrollable lockup, the car suddenly veers, tires squealing against the asphalt as it careens off track. Time suddenly moves in slow motion. You watch in horror, unable to move, as the car flips, the sound of metal crunching and the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. You're screaming his name, but no sound leaves your mouth. The world tilts on its axis as you hear them announce a red flag and medics storm the accident scene. You can't move, your body frozen in place. And worst of all, you know you can't reach him.

You wake up with a gasp, chest heaving as if you've just run a marathon, tears streaming down your face and hands trembling as you clutch the blankets around you. The guest room in Oscars Monaco apartment is dark, the faint glow of the moon streaming in through the curtains your only light source. But the feeling of the nightmare lingers, both vivid and suffocating.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the images to fade, but they don't. All you can see is the mangled car and the unbearable thought of losing Oscar. Your heart aches, feeling as though it's just been ripped out and stomped on, panic still fresh and raw. You need to see him, reassure yourself he's okay, even if you know it was just a nightmare.

Before you can second guess your movements, you're throwing the duvet off yourself and padding quietly down the hall to his room. You've been best friends with Oscar since you could walk, since the days of sharing snacks and playing hopscotch, even his move to the UK couldn't sever your bond. Staying at his place in Monaco felt natural, as did staying at his place in London, it felt like slipping back into the comfortable rhythm of sleepovers from when your were just a couple of little kids, but after that dream comfort was the last thing you were feeling.

His bedroom door is slightly ajar (something he insists on doing in case you need him, to which you always laughed at until tonight) and you push it open gently, trying not to make a sound. The room is dim, lit only by the same moonlight that was filtering in through the curtains in the guest room. Oscar's sleeping form was a shadow under a pile of blankets, his steady breathing a stark contrast to your own racing heart. Just seeing him alive and at peace and, most of all, safe eases some of the tension you were feeling in your chest.

But as you take a step closer, the floor betrays you by creaking, the noise disrupting his steady breathing.

"y/n?" his voice is laced with sleep and groggy but it's more than enough to break the dam that was previously holding back your tears.

"I..." your voice cracks, and you quickly scrub at your faces trying to stop the tears but it's to no avail. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, this was stupid." you rapidly apologize.

He sits up at this, covers falling to lay across his hips, "Hey, hey, hey, no I promise it's not stupid." he coos, his concerned tone tugging at your heartstrings, "what's wrong?"

You hesitate, still feeling ridiculous, even more so with his attention directly on you. But the nightmares grip on you still hasn't loosened. "I had a nightmare," you admitted, voice quiet. "I just... I just needed to make sure you were okay."

Oscars expression softens, scooting over patting the empty space beside him, "Oh love, come here."

Trying to ignore how the name made your heart skip in the best of ways, you slowly make your way toward his bed. slipping under the covers hesitantly, but being encouraged by his soft gaze.

The warmth of his body and duvet surrounds you and the familiar scent of him fills you with a comforting warmth. Oscar shifts closer, his arm draping over your shoulders as you pulls you into his chest.

"It's okay," he murmurs into the crown of your head, "It was just a dream."

You nod against his chest, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heart. It's grounding, acting as a reminder that he's here and safe. "It felt so real," you whisper into his chest, "I saw you crash, and I couldn't do anything, I was stuck. I thought... I thought I lost you."

His hold on you tightens, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath while resting his chin atop your head, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he says firmly.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The soft sounds of the city outside and the rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence. The two of you just enjoying the warmth of each other. Slowly but surely, the pain in your chest ebbs, replaced with a new anxious feeling—one that you've been feeling for years but never brought up.

"Osc?" you say softly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" his eyes filled with warmth, focused on you and you only.

You take a shaky breath, heart pounding for a reason entirely different from when you first stepped in here. "I don't know what I would do without you," you admit softly, "You mean so much to me."

His gaze searches yours, and for a moment you begin to panic that you've said too much, but then his hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that was on your cheek. "You mean everything to me," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches as he leans in close, lips capturing yours in a kiss that begins as soft and gentle. as if he's testing the waters but deepens as he feels you respond, fingers threading through his soft hair, years of unspoken feelings between the two of you spilling out.

When you finally pull apart, you're both breathless, eyes sparkling. He presses his forehead against yours, a small, youthful and disbelieving smile on his lips. "You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that." he admits.

"I think I do," you giggle, pulling him in for another quick kiss that becomes not so quick.

He finally pulls back again, shifting to pull you tight to his chest as you nuzzle into his neck, "We should get some sleep," he says, "I'm okay and I'm right here with you. I promise," he eases your lingering fears without you even having to ask.

And for the first time that night, you feel safe. Laying there with his arms tightly wrapped around you, the steady beat of his heart beneath you, and him pressing a soft kiss against your head, the nightmare feels like a distant memory. You close your eyes with a smile on your lips as you drift off, comforted by the fact that you know he's safe and that he's now yours.

[satorusugurugurl]

Yeehaw!!

Summary: Suguru loses a bet to Satoru and had to wear a cowboy costume to a party. But you consider yourself the real winner.

Characters: cowboy!Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: costume play, kissing, sex in a stranger's bed, language, face siting, 69ing, aex, unprotected sex, cream pie, hair pulling

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: Kinktober Day 16! Cowboy!Geto! I think I was possessed when writing this! Holy shit. 😮‍💨

You cannot wait. Excitement shoots through every nerve in your body. You could kiss Gojo right now, but thinking about him like that alleviates some of the arousal that’s pooling between your legs. This was going to be the best night of your life. Your boyfriend had lost a bet against his best friend. I bet that involved costumes for your local Halloween party at the college. Suguru wanted to wear something simple, like a suit and tie. While, Gojo had been insistent on his choice.

You had never been more excited over your boyfriend losing a video game than you had the second Gojo whispered his costume idea to you. You squirmed, toying with your scarecrow costume as there was a sigh from behind the door in front of you. Suguru was not looking forward to this, but you were seconds away from screaming and pure anticipation.

“If you say anything—” his voice was dark and deep. You could almost hear the blush that was fuming in his cheeks. “I swear to God, I will kick you out of the apartment.”

“Seeing that I have a set of keys to the apartment, I think that would be a waste of time.” you bite down on your lip, rubbing between your teeth. “And I can assure you that I will not be laughing.” if anything, he would be fighting back a moan. Because the thought of your boyfriend and this specific outfit had your pussy throbbing.

The door to the bedroom creaked, and out stepped your cowboy boyfriend. God, he looks like a fucking meal. Your mouth watered at the sight of the blue jeans, hugging his thighs to the tight black button-down top around his toned arms. The black bandanna that was tied around his neck. Your heart feels like it’s racing in a 5K marathon.

Suguru looked like sin incarnate, and that sin was lust. It took everything in your power not to pounce on him right then and there. He seemed so shy in his cowboy outfit. Dusty rose hue was tinting his pretty cheeks. He looked anywhere but you. He had no idea just how sexy he was.

“I told you not a damn word.” He jabbed his pointer to you to emphasize his words. “Not a word.”

“Of course,” you responded in a sing-song sweet voice in an attempt not to phase him in the slightest. In reality, all you were thinking about was pushing him down on the couch right there, but he was just feeling a little insecure. You only needed ten minutes with your mouth, and he would feel like a million dollars. However, now was not the time to suck him dry. That would have to wait until after the party.

You stay true to his request, not saying a single word about his costume, even if it was nearly physically impossible not to respect him and his wishes. When all you wanted to do was catcall him like a horny construction worker. But you did your best, staying close to him all night and being his moral support even when Satoru started parading him around the party, which you hadn’t initially minded.

Until you saw the girls staring.

A whole bunch of them were eye fucking him right there in front of you. You could see it in their little eyes that they were mentally trying to undress him despite you being right there by his side. Jealousy turned in your stomach like molten lava, making the alcohol you had drank boil in protest. This came with the territory when dating a supermodel-worthy gorgeous boyfriend. You had gotten used to it. But maybe it was because he was too good-looking tonight; it made you want to go on a spontaneous murder spree whenever someone glanced in his direction.

You had stepped away for just a second to regain your composure and cool before you did something completely irrational when there was a flash of white. You whirled back around, watching as one of the girls that had been oogling your boyfriend all evening grabbed him by the bandanna yanking him down to her height. Suguru looked uncomfortable by this, his violet eyes searching for you in the crowd as the drunk woman twirled her finger around the fabric.

“Say cowboy~ let me take you for a ride?”

Oooh fuck this! This costume was supposed to be for your pleasure! Not for every single woman, man, or person at this fucking party! You snapped forward, little pieces of hay falling out of the sleeve of your dress as you hooked your finger under the loop of his belt, yanking him back towards you. The sudden movement of Suguru falling back into you had the drink he had been nursing to slosh within the orange silo cup before coating his hand in beer which also hit the girl's dress square in the tits.

“Ah!” She screeched, looking down at herself. “What the fuck?!”

You stepped forward, putting yourself between your boyfriend and the stupid angel bitch. “The only person riding him tonight will be me.” The angel’s lips curled up away from her teeth.

“Says who?”

“Says me!” You grabbed hold of his bandanna with your entire hand, yanking him down to your mouth as you kissed him as if no one else was in the room. Suguru’s eyes are wide at your sudden action. But he slowly relaxed, letting you take the lead as you kissed him with ferocity.

You could hear the angel cursing in disapproval before her stiletto clicked against the floor as she walked away. Suguru was the first to pull away, looking around for any sight of the woman. When he realized you guys were safe, he sighed in blissful relief.

“You saved me there, Princess.” There was a certain gleam in his eyes as he turned his attention back down on you. “Talk about that awkward conversation starter, huh?” You say nothing as you grab him by the hand, leading him upstairs. “Hey, what are you doing?” He questioned, eyebrows pinching together as he was shoved into one of the vacant rooms upstairs.

“Something I should have done the second. I saw you in that fucking outfit.”

One second, Suguru is standing before you, and the next, he’s being shoved onto the mattress. “Huh? What?” He props himself up on his elbows, watching as you slowly shimmy your panties down, kicking them across the room.

“I should have kept you all to myself. But I fully intend to make amends for my mistake.��

Suguru greatly underestimated how much you would’ve liked his costume. At first, he was annoyed with the childish game that Satori was playing since he didn’t have much of a childhood. Geto saw this as a way for his best friend to torture him. What he never expected for his girlfriend to be the one to torture him. Because here you were 20 minutes later, your pussy being ground against his mouth as you sucked on his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you both sixty-nine.

But— most really considered as torture?

Because Suguru was losing his fucking mind over how good you tasted and how fucking feral you were. When you shoved him down on the bed, he was expecting you to pull his cock out and just ride him, or maybe you’re going to beg for him to fuck you. You instead took a seat right on his face, grinding your hips and slow, meticulous circles with the last thing he had been expecting. Not that he was one to complain.

It wasn’t very often that you rode his face, but fuck when you allow yourself to loosen the grips you had on yourself. Fuck, and it always led to some pretty amazing sex. You had his cowboy hat off, throwing it across the room as you fisted your fingers through the silk strands of his hair, gripping onto it as if they were reigns, and you rode him up and down slowly over his tongue, grinding your slick pussy all over his willing tongue.

Your head had been tossed back and pure blissful pleasure. Not giving a damn about who might be around to hear you lose yourselves. All that you were concerned with was fucking his mouth. He was slowly cursing himself, wishing you weren’t in a scarecrow costume but a cowgirl costume alongside him. Thinking of you wearing a cute little hat as you rode his face like a fucking horse, had his cock throbbing against his denim jeans, begging to be released.

And luckily for him, it was something you had picked up on. You stopped grinding your pussy on his tongue, pulling back just enough to look into his pretty lilac eyes. Your boyfriend made a sound of disapproval. The second you pulled away from his mouth. But before any protest could leave his talented tongue, you turned around, working at his belt in the buttons to his pants.

All protests vanished along with the blood in his head as it rushed to his cock. That crazed horny manic still fueled your actions. Making you forget momentarily that you both weren’t in the comfort of your own home, but instead, we’re in a stranger's house, a frat house, to be exact. The only thoughts that were going through your mind were how badly you needed his cock in your mouth.

You growled, your eyes rolling back as you wasted no time. You jerked him several times with fast, quick pumps in your adorable hands before you let him into your wet, willing mouth. Usually, Suguru would have been completely enthralled by your talent, watching how you hollowed your cheeks as you’re pretty, perfect lips wrapped around his thick cock. He couldn’t care less about what you looked like sucking him off right now. Because he was more entranced with your dripping wet cunt in his face.

That momentary setback of switching positions came and went like clicking seconds on a clock. Suguru growled, lifting his head, darting his tongue out, sliding it between your slick folds, the tip grazing over your entrance, swirling his tongue around it before he reached up, grabbing a handful of your ass. You cried around his eyes, watering as you struggled to take him further down your throat. Which was surprisingly hard when he was shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy, licking your inner walls without a care in the world.

His enthusiasm nearly had you choking on his dick as he breathed heavily against your swollen folds. Like he had been diving deep in the water and gasping for air. But the only thing he was diving deep into was your sex. He pulled his tongue out from inside of you to lap at your folds again, the tip of his tongue finding your clit with such ease that it had you buckling down on his mouth hard. You cried out, eyes squeezing, as you tried to focus on him and his cock.

Both of you were withering masses as you worked each other to get off, but right before either of you could cum, you pulled off his mouth and his cock, hovering above him. His cock throb angrily in protest. The dark rosey tip twitched, and a droplet of pre-come sheared on the tip before running over to trail down the underside of his cock, making him shiver.

“W-Why’d you stop?” He questioned, watching as you moved, putting your legs underneath his as you presented your backside to him.

“I told you I was going to be riding you tonight.”

Before he could respond, letting you know that you had rode his face, you reached around, grabbing a hold of the base of his cock. He jerked forward, thrusting into your hand as you led the tip toward your entrance, rubbing it up and down the slick folds before pushing yourself down onto his length. Suguru cursed under his breath, back as his jaw clenched tight as you threw your head back while arching your beautiful bareback.

“Nngh fuck!” He huffed out, lifting his head just enough to watch as you sink down completely onto him. Your bodies were pressed flush against each other. “Holy fuck—you’re so fucking wet! Just how much do you like this costume?” it wasn’t so much a question and more like a statement. He knew you liked this costume.

Suguru just wanted to hear you say how much you liked it.

There was a breathless laugh that passed through your lips as you began rocking your hips back and forth while pulling off of his cock, slamming yourself back down onto it. Is it possible for you to be so cute and sexy simultaneously?! You hum breathless moans, filling the vacant room you both are in.

“I-I love it!” You post yourself down onto his length until the head of his cock is pressing right against your cervix. “I fucking love this goddamn costume.” You pulled yourself back up off of a length, allowing him to see your slick, coating his cock. “I-I love it s-so much!”

Suguru hisses through his teeth, becoming more animalistic as you bounce. “Fuck—fuck I can tell you’re so worked up!” He crashes his head to sight as he tries his damnedest to blow his load right then and there. “Fuck you squeezing me too tight, babe!” His hands both reach out to grab handfuls of your ass, squeezing and massaging it before pulling it apart to watch with lustful eyes as you force yourself further down his length.

“Haha!” You laugh out as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling gently on it. “Fuuuck~ I don’t give a damn if you cum too fast right now! I plan on riding you all fucking night.”

Your bounces become something less methodical and more precise, pulling all the way off before his tips snag at your entrance before you slam yourself down on him. Skins clap against skin that sheen with a thin layer of sweat. You’re crying out as you grab hold of his upper thigh for leverage as you throw yourself back onto his cock as if he was your own personal sex toy.

“Fu—hnnngh!” Suguru’s eyes roll back as he grips your ass with a force that’s gonna leave bruises. “Holy fuck, your pussy is so fucking good.” He was trying to fight against the white spots that were forming in his vision as his orgasm was closing in on him. A white ring of your combined arousals forms at the base of his cock, the physical evidence that you were aroused and that you were both close to cumming. And that sight has your boyfriend smirking sinisterly. “Fuck!” Suguru pulls his hands away just to slap them as hard as he can against the fat of your ass. “Ride me, cowgirl, put your fucking back into it.”

Suddenly, the tables have turned on you. “Ahhh!” You cry out, eyes going wide as your boyfriend reaches up, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your back, forcing you to arch your back even deeper. “S-Suguru.” You bouncing like a maniac, like you’re bouncing in his thrust, are the only thing keeping you both alive.

“Yeah, just like that princess, ride my cock, ride me like you fucking mean it.”

“I-I’m—I’m c-cumming!” You cry out, whimpering like the submissive little bitch you know you are. Suguru props himself up on one of his elbows as he continues to use your hair as leverage as he begins fucking up into you in time with your bouncing. “F-Sugu!! Sugu! Cu-cumming!” He laughs low in his belly as he watches you come undone on his cock.

You’re squirting, saving the sheets of the unknown bed that you find yourselves in, not giving a fucking damn about it at the moment. “Fuuck!! Princess, take it!! Fucking take my goddamn fucking cum!” You couldn’t care less because all that mattered, and that moment was feeling your boyfriend fill you up with his hot thick cum. None of the fuckers downstairs mattered. They didn’t even register in your mind as your boyfriend fucked into you like the rugged cowboy he was dressed like.

The man that pushes you, forcing you down into the mattress as he takes control, his hand that’s still wrapped in your hair or your face down into the mattress as you scream into the duvet. Your eyes are watering mascara, and your face makeup is running down your flushed cheeks. Fuck his cum into you, forcing another orgasm out of you as you scream into the mattress. He shudders behind you, pressing his button-down top flush against your back; he grinds into you, pushing him and his new load further inside of you.

And he doesn’t stop until you’re both breathless, lifting your face out of the duvet, turning you to face him. You both are fucked up mess of sweat, spit, and cum. Suguru growls, kissing you deeply, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as the door to the bedroom jiggles as someone tries to get in.

“Fuck off!” Suguru barks out, tying his hair back into a bun as he slaps your ass. “I’m a hardworking cowboy, enjoying the fruit of my labor.” You squeaked out as he flat on his stomach, grabbing your ass, forcing you back onto his mouth where he’s licking your combined cum out of your pussy. You shuddered, eyes rolling back. A sweat beads against your forehead. “Yee-fuckin-haw.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[gojoscinnamonroll]

“how fun it’s going to be to fuck rip your insides out”

whatever you do… don’t fuck the psycho killer!!!

warnings: minors/ageless blogs dni, slight knife play, INO AS GHOSTFACE MHMM :3 (takuma girlies this one is for u mwahh), ino x fem reader , oral + unprotected , fingering, stalking , pet names , use of y/n , everything is consented btw

word count: 1.6k

a/n: fun fact this fic was based on a dream i had the other night LOL freak

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

you were cozied up in your bedroom of the apartment that you shared with your best friend, utahime, alone one night watching horror movies (like a psychopath :D ) because she had left to go to a halloween party that one of her boyfriend’s frat friends was throwing.

“are you sure you don’t want to come y/n? i’ll feel bad just leaving you here, especially with that rumor of that ghostface slasher guy going around… you’ll probably be safer with us, y’know?” your bestie asked out of concern.

“yes ‘hime, ill be fine don’t worry!!! plus i know im going to be all awk since i won’t really know anyone but you” you reassured her. “okay well, just text me if you need anything, and if you want me to stop by for food on the way back just let me know ‘kay!! be safe please and lock the doors when i leave” she said as she gave you a tight hug.

“okay! bye! have fun!! but not too much fun if you catch my drift” you teased as you stood behind the door, “oh hush” utahime laughed as she walked away and met up with her boyfriend down the stairs. you closed the door (forgetting to lock the door because you swore that you heard the click but it was just in your imagination) and walked back to your room to start your michael myers movie marathon which got you to the situation you were in now.

little did you know that this rumored “ghostface” was actually plotting on you next, as he had seen you around campus and thought that you were the most beautiful thing to walk this earth but he didn’t know how he was going to approach you, so he decided to do it the only way he knew how. and lucky for him the door you thought was locked was calling for him, inviting him inside. you were too focused in on your movies, that you didn’t hear the sounds of him coming in and let alone hear him standing outside your bedroom door.

you were about to pop another brownie into your mouth when this mr. ghostface decided to come up behind you and place his hand over your mouth to muffle your shocked screams. you wanted to turn your head to see who it was but this mysterious masked man had a tight grip on you that it was almost impossible for you to turn around and catch a peek. “what’s the matter y/n, you look like you seen a ghost” coyly said from the man behind the mask

wait a sec… why does his voice seem so familiar.. and how does he know my name..?

“if you keep quiet and won’t tell anyone you seen me tonight, i won’t cut your pretty head off and keep it for myself, yeah?” you muffled a “mhm” and he delicately (which is ironic for a psycho killer) removed his hand from your mouth. “so… you got a boyfriend?” he inquired, you shook your head no, in fear of what he’ll do if you speak. “good.. because you don’t know how much i been thinking about this moment y/n. it’s been hard seeing you walk around campus knowing your not mine.” he whispered in your ear as one hand slips down to the waistband of your ghost covered boyshorts and the other down to your right breast in your cropped black tank top.

“someone’s nice and wet for someone who should be scared of the fact that the psycho killer is in their bedroom right now huh” he mocked you in your ear as he plunged two fingers inside of you and you let out a whimper. “cum for me baby and maybe ill let you see who i am”. he was scissoring in and out of you so good that you just couldn’t help but chase your release as you rode his fingers.

what am i thinking?? i just came on a stranger’s fingers?? let alone THE ghost face killer’s fingers??

“eager to know who i am, hmm?” he said as he released his fingers from inside you and up under his mask to get a taste of you. “greedy girl… i’m sorry.. but im not done with you just yet, i wanna hear you scream” as he flips you over and lays you on your back, he pulls your shorts down to reveal that (scary!!!) you aren’t wearing any panties? you can feel the flush of embarrassment rising in your face but all you hear from him is low groan and seeing him lift the mask up (just a teeny bit, exposing everything under the tip of his nose)

“wow your pussy is just as pretty as you, i need to taste more of it too” he starts kitten licking at your clit to get a taste then like the sicko he is, something ignites in him that make him start devouring you. you can’t help the whimpers that come out of you as he starts eating you like a man who hasn’t had a meal in 5 months. he then brings the same 2 fingers that were in you previously back into you as he starts sucking on your clit. you feel your second orgasm of the night building up, “gonna cum baby? good job, you’re doing amazing , i got one more thing for you then you can see who i am” you see a little smirk peek out from under his mask; you can’t help but wonder why does this dude look and seem so familiar? you had a feeling it was that cute, laidback guy from your algebra course, ino takuma. but you could also be wrong and its also wrong that you were about to cum on this strangers fingers + mouth for the second time thinking about another guy like a whore.

“good girl, but i’m going to need you scream on this cock, m’kay?” he pulls down the black sweatpants that he had on revealing the hard on he had hidden in his boxers and his rock hard abs showing from underneath his sweatshirt. fuck, you didn’t know who was more sicker in the head, this stranger that just broke in and is now about to fuck you or the fact you are drooling over his long, skinny, and hard cock staring back at you. either way, you just wanted him to relieve the need you had built up. with his mask still a little lifted, he started giving light pecks on your neck and on your chest as he was rolling his hips into you, leaving your arousal smearing all over the front of his boxers.

“f-fuck me… please” you mumbled under your breath.

“what was that doll? you said you want me to…” he paused as he let his length spring out as he freed it from his boxers, “to fuck you?” he pumped it a few times as he watched you practically beg for him with your cute, big, pleading eyes, “please” you whimpered as you look up at him. and he was wasting nooooo time because like i said before, he was waaaitinggg for this moment ever since he’s laid eyes on you. he won’t admit it but the amount of times he’s fisted himself to you, is a shameful amount but even he can’t believe it himself right now in this moment that his dream was about to come true.

he let out a low growl as he bottoms out inside of you, feeling you clench and gasp around him as you struggle to take him whole, he was fighting the urge not to finish already because goodness gracious did you feel ten times way better than his hand. “you’re such a good girl, you know that right… taking it so good, letting a psycho killer fuck you like the whore you are” he then remembered that he had his prop knife with him, not the real one but its close to it, because he didn’t want to hurt his beautiful girl, and pulled it out to hold it gently against your neck while still pounding you into your pink mattress. “just think baby, how fun this is going to be when i fuck your guts out, yeah?” deep down you knew you had some kinks, but whoever this stranger is, he just unleashed a kink you never knew you had because you couldn’t help the sounds that rolled out of your mouth as he kept hitting that sweet spot in you while holding his signature weapon to your throat.

and its like somehow he knew what you were about to ask because he took off his mask and you were shocked to see that this stranger who was deep inside of you, messy brown hair down, sweat running down his jawline, and breathless ,was indeed who you had a feeling about before. the man you caught yourself drooling over in algebra class many times was the ghostface slasher that was pounding into you at this very moment. you felt your orgasm coming, and coming hard all over his length and at the same time you can feel his coming too. “g’nna cum all over this cock aren’t you pretty girl? go ‘head, it’s all yours ma. you’re going to make me cum all inside of you too” he moaned in your ear as he shot long and warm ropes of his seed into you as he collapsed on top of your warm, fucked out body.

you couldn’t help but play with his hair a little bit as you mumbled “ino… is that you..” he was shocked that you even knew his name but he gave you a kiss to your cheek to confirm that yes, it was him. “did i scare ya?” he giggled. “let’s do this again sometime, yeah?”

now… if utahime comes home to see you like this when she checks in on you, what the heck were you going to tell her when she sees you cuddled up with this psycho killer…

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

SORRY GUYS FOR THE RUSHED ENDING don’t hate me pls 😔

[maxlarens]

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto���s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely. 

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

💫 fill out this form if you want to be added to my tag list: @clowngirlsstuff @leclercsluvs @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @papayamusha @mvk1ma

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Isn't It Fun?

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

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

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

You hum as you come up the walk of your building. It isn’t in the best location. In the dark, it’s scarier as a shadow overhangs the door beneath the awning. You reach into your knapsack, hanging from one shoulder, as you eke out the tune to Easy Street offkey.  

As your keys jingle, a shape pops out of the bushes and you scream, throwing the keyring as you turn to sprint back down the pavement. You’re caught from behind as a familiar chuckle rolls up into the moonlit sky. You grunt and elbow Bucky as you realise the trick he’s pulled. 

“Ah, why would you do that?” You wriggle until he lets you go. 

You face him and try to snarl but you’re so relieved it’s just him, you can’t help but smile. 

“Just having some fun. At your expense,” he chuckles and bends to pick up the keys. “Can I give you some advice, dreamy?” He raises your keys and holds them so one points between his fingers. “Keep your keys out, hold em like this and if some creep jumps out of the bushes, stab em good.” 

“Stab-- Buck,” you shake your head. “I can’t do that.” 

“You can if it’s life or death,” he swings the keys around to hang from his thick fingers, “here.” 

“What-- what are you even doing here?” 

“Huh. You didn’t let me ask my question first,” he huffs as he stands back and waves you past. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working late?” 

“Well, firstly, you got lots going on,” you say. “And I didn’t think of it. I’m fine.” 

“Fine, I could be a real bad guy waiting for you out here in the dark,” he taunts. 

“But you’re not. So now my turn, why are you here?” 

“Well, I was wandering by on my way to see a Buster Keaton marathon and thought maybe you’d be up for it...” 

“Tonight? Right now?” 

“I see,” he grabs the door as you opens it and holds it, “you’re too busy. Or maybe you’re too good for me.” 

You enter and he follows. It’s that familiarity that you just sort of fell into with him. He’s like a wise big brother, even if he really is older than your grandpa. It’s the most unexpected bonds that are the strongest. 

“No, not at all, Mr. Hero,” you climb the stairs as he stays a step behind, his hand on the railing right by yours. 

“Ugh, why doesn’t this place have an elevator?” He whines. 

“I thought the serum would give you extra strong legs,” you toss over your shoulder. 

“Whatever.” He clucks, “so how about it? You wanna fall asleep in the theatre with me, dreamy?” 

“Dream-- why do you call me that?” You head down towards your door. 

“You got your head in the clouds. Also, when you watch movies, you get this look in your eyes, like you’re living on screen. Dreamy. See.” He explains. 

“Mm,” you grumble. 

“You don’t like it? I put up with Buckaroo.” 

“That was once and it was a slip-up,” you unlock your door. “Fine, I’ll go with you since you don’t have any other friends.” 

“I have friends.” 

“Sure you do,” you snort and turn to give him a playful wink. You put your keys and bag down on the tall table. “You and Cap, the superfriends. Heroes and buddies til the end—whoa!” 

You hit the shoe rack and stumble, landing on your ass. Bucky is quick enough to save you but he doesn’t. He watches smugly and cackles as your cheeks burn up. 

“Not funny,” you pout. 

“Oh, it is very funny,” he approaches and offers his hand. “How’s that humble pie taste?” 

“Fine. I was being a meanie. I admit it but you got my adrenaline up. I can’t help it.” 

“Ha, yeah, that was good. You shoulda seen the look on your face. And that noise you made.” He hauls you up as his vibranium thumb rubs between your knuckles. “Ayeeeee!” 

“I don’t sound like that.” 

“You do.” He grins. You scowl and he laughs again. “You know I love that face. The day you actually get mad at me, I’ll be down on my knees, dreamy.” 

“Ugh, you are such a...” you let the sentence trail off and the dimple stays in in his cheek as he crosses his arms. 

“I’m a what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“No, say it,” he goads. 

“No.” 

“Come on, I can handle it. You know, I got hit by a truck the other day, I think I can take a few words.” 

“Hit by a truck? Bucky?” You squeal. “Are you okay?” 

“Ah, look at me. I’m fine. Not a scratch. That you can see,” he shrugs. “So what am I? Tell me.” 

“No,” you turn your nose up. 

“Say it. You’ll feel better.” 

“It’s... not nice.” 

“Come on,” he unfolds his arms and flutters his fingers at you, “I am trained in torture.” 

“No,” you grab his hands, his skin rough, “no tickles.” 

“So, tell me.” 

“Not fair,” you struggle to keep his hands away from your sides. 

“Almost...” he wiggles his fingertips a half-inch from your middle. 

“Brat! You’re a brat!” You step back, out of his reach. “Okay, and if you keep being one, you can go to the movies alone.” 

He laughs and grips his hips in victory, “wow, you know, I’ve actually never got that one. Creative.” 

“Right, well, I can’t sit in the theatre in this get-up,” you look down at your frilly plaid overall dress and white blouse.  

“I didn’t get to mention that yet. It’s a choice, as the young ones say.” 

You cringe, “it’s my work uniform.” 

“Uniform?” He squints. 

“Don’t, okay? I get enough guff from the customers.” 

“Guff? Oh, that’s language I understand.” 

“Ergh,” you stomp your foot. “You are so... so... old.” 

You turn and march away. He laughs and you turn into your bedroom. He just loves to tease you and despite your efforts, he always gets to you. At least he’ll have to be quiet during the movie. 

[lipglossanon]

22 December

Moaner!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pervert Leon, stalker Leon, obscene phone calls, name calling, degradation, masturbation

Black Christmas (1974) homage 💜

not proofread

You wave the cigarette smoke away from your face. Brittany giggles and blows another puff your way, sending your irritation spiking as you stand up from the sofa. 

“You’re such a child,” you sneer at her. “I hope you get cancer.”

“Hey!” She frowns at you, bubbly laughter dropping off. “What a shitty thing to say to someone.”

“But you’re not someone,” you smile sweetly. “You’re just a dumb bitch.”

Before Brittany can move from the couch, the den mother steps in with a haggard face. She’s nearing her 50’s and her days of putting up with hormonal young women are drawing to a close. 

“Now you two, be nice,” she chides, tired eyes moving between you both. “Brittany go pack. Your dad called a few minutes ago saying he’s on his way to pick you up for the airport.”

She stands from the sofa, running a hand through her box blonde hair. “Thank you, Miss Margaret. It’ll be nice to spend the holidays with family, something not all of us have.”

She grins, a nasty showing of her bleached teeth, “Have a lovely holiday, sister.”

“Hope your plane explodes on take off,” you shoot back, listening as Miss Margaret sighs in defeat—both of you watching Brittany disappear around the corner. 

“I wish you girls wouldn’t fight like that. It’s so unbecoming,” she pats her pockets, pulling out a peppermint candy, wrapper crinkling when she opens it.

“Well, if she wouldn’t have screwed me over with that Professor, then I wouldn’t have any issues with her.”

Patting your arm, the den mother makes her way back out of the room. “I know, dear. But thankfully, you’ll have a break from her over the holidays.”

Standing next to the tree in the empty living room, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing yourself not to get a headache. The shrill ring of the landline cuts into your thoughts like a dull knife. Blowing out a breath, you walk into the foyer and pick up the corded receiver. 

“Hello, Alpha Beta Theta house.”

Loud breathing comes over the line, like they’ve just finished running a marathon. 

“Hello?”

A shuddering groan fills your ear along with a wet squelching noise, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Is—is anyone there?” You clear your throat. 

“Unh, unh,” a masculine voice finally makes a more pronounced noise. “Mmm.”

“You know prank calls can get you in a lot of trouble,” you twist the cord in your fingers, nerves beginning to get the best of you.

A raspy laugh before he speaks. “Bet you have a tight piggy cunt. Little miss uptight bitch.”

Fear and anger burn hot in your chest. “Did Brittany put you up to this? Well, fuck her and fuck you too, you fucking loser.”

You slam the phone down onto the cradle. Clenching your fists at your sides, you want to scream. You want to kick and slap and hit and gouge and—

The shrill ring of the phone has you baring your teeth at it like a feral dog. Snatching it up on the second trill, you bring the receiver up to your face.

“Alpha Beta Theta.”

The words are pulled from your mouth like rotten teeth. 

“Don’t hang up on me again, you cunting whore.” The man hisses at you. “I’ll rape all of your holes and then make more to stuff my cock into.”

Sweat beads on the back of your neck along with your palms and under your armpits. 

“W-who are you?”

He laughs again. “No one. Now stay on the line.”

The wet sound from earlier picks up, only this time it’s louder. He grunts and you suddenly realize what he’s doing. 

Schlick, schlick, schlick. 

It’s insane and disgusting—

and yet—

You clench your thighs, clit achy while you listen to this pervert jerk off. He curses under his breath and it makes your nipples stiffen. Gripping the phone in your hand so tightly the plastic creaks, you breathe in shakily. He must hear it cause his noises pick up speed, the wet slide of what has to be his fist around his cock grows louder still. 

“Wanna stick my face in your fat piggy cunt, lick those pretty piggy lips and suck on your juicy piggy clit.”

Instead of disgust, arousal pools hot and heavy in your core, panties sticking to your wet pussy. He groans brokenly, words bitten off as you listen to him cum on the other side of the call. Your hand begins to cramp from the grip you have on the receiver, making you swap over to the other ear.

Breathing heavily for a few moments, he sighs out a hum. 

“Merry Christmas, cunt.”

Those are his last words as the dial tone blares to life. You sit the phone down and shakily walk back into the living room. Pussy empty and aching, you sink down on the couch cushions. 

“Who was that, dearie?” 

Miss Margaret stands on the other side of the room in the doorway leading to the kitchen. 

“Uh, no one,” you repeat the pervert's answer. “Just a wrong number.” 

“Oh, okay.”

She heads back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with your messy thighs and turbulent thoughts.

[dollfacefantasy]

Just Like the Movies

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend dons the ghostface mask to let you live out a fantasy

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, cnc, praise/degradation, knife play, predator/prey dynamic (he chases her idk what to call it), dacryphilia, voyeurism mentions

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i wanted to write at least one spooky thing for halloween and i love scream so here you go. i'm working on requests i promise, i just wanted to get this out before october ends. as always, thank you for the comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz ghostface photo used in the header is from @/oikizumi on pinterest!

An old scary movie plays on the television as you relax on the couch after a hard week. You had a soft blanket draped over you and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. The missing piece was your boyfriend. You were just waiting for him to come home and join you for your little makeshift marathon.

You casually watch the movie while lifting handfuls of popcorn to your mouth. You had seen this one before so it wasn’t scaring you, but it was entertaining enough to pass the time with until Leon returned to you.

It was getting to be that time of evening when he usually came marching through the door, tired from work but still with open arms for you to slide into. He hadn’t come home yet though. As you’re wondering where your lover could be, your phone begins to ring.

You sit up and grab it from the table in front of you.

No caller ID.

You raise your eyebrows at the strange nature of that. Assuming it’s a scam call though, you leave it be. However, the phone rings again. You actively decline the call this time. You place your phone down again, hoping that would be the end.

It wasn’t though because not even a minute later, your phone vibrates again.

You reach for the device and see a text message pop up on your lock screen.

‘Don’t ignore me, pretty girl.’

That piques your curiosity. When the phone rings again, you click the answer button and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?” you say.

“Finally, she answers the phone,” a smooth, predatory voice teases.

“Who is this?” you ask.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t wanna ruin the fun already, do you babydoll?” he purrs.

“Well, what do you want?” you ask. The cadence of the voice was familiar, but the actual sound of it, you couldn’t place. It didn’t sound like anyone you knew in real life.

“To talk to you. I guess you could say I’m kind of lonely,” he says with mock sadness.

“Aw, well I’m not, so bye,” you say and hang up the phone. As you begin to place that voice and the cadence behind it, Leon’s late arrival makes sense. You had disclosed this little fantasy to him recently. And it seemed like he had got the modulator to sound just like the movie for you.

Not even ten seconds go by before the phone rings again. An excited chill comes over you as you lift it and accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Why’d you hang up on me, angel? That’s not very nice of you,” he taunts, “You doing something better right now?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Yeah? What’s so important that you can’t spare a few moments of your precious time?”

“I’m about to watch some scary movies,” you say, a smile spreading on your face. You sit up on the couch more as you feel where this conversation is going.

“Scary movies? I like scary movies,” he says, “Tell me, do you have a favorite?”

“I like Scream. You ever seen that one?” you say teasingly.

“I’m familiar,” he says, “That one’s not really scary though. I bet I could give you more of a thrill.”

“Mm, maybe. But sadly for you, my boyfriend will be home soon.”

“Boyfriend? That’s a shame,” he says, his voice becoming a hint darker.

“I’m sure it is. Anyways, I should be going…” you trail off knowingly.

“C’mon, blondie can wait a few more minutes.”

“Blonde,” you repeat slowly, feigning fear, “How do you know he’s blonde?”

“I’ve been watching you for a while, baby. Had to make sure everything would be perfect tonight,” he says with a low laugh, “Let’s just say that we have plenty of time now.”

“Why are you doing this? Who are you?” you say, cranking up the fear in your voice. You stand up from the couch and walk to a window to see if you can spot him outside.

“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Plus, I thought girls liked the whole man of mystery thing,” he chuckles, “You’re honestly telling me this doesn’t turn you on?”

“It doesn’t!” you say defensively.

“Are you sure about that?” he breathes, “When I cut those slutty little shorts off you, I’m not gonna find a messy cunt crying for me to fill her?”

“No…” you say, your cheeks heating up while arousal pools in your belly.

“You don’t sound so sure,” he teases, “Y’know, I think I can see your nipples getting hard under that thin shirt all the way from here.”

You quickly step away from the window, a shiver shooting up your spine. You bite your lip. “Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper.

His cruel laugh crackles through the phone. “I wanna hear you cry like that when you’re cumming all over my cock.”

Every word tumbling from his lips stoked the flames of desire within you. Your veins were coursing with a primal need at this point.

“I’m gonna call the police,” you say. Your voice was breathy in what could be interpreted as terror, but in reality, it was pure lust.

“Do you think that would stop me?” he rasps into the phone, “Because, we both know I would get to you before the operator could even take your address. But let’s say you did get through. I can be quick, doll. Take what’s mine and have that tight pussy full of my cum with time to spare.”

You shift your thighs and look for the smallest semblance of friction as he lays this out to you.

“By the time any cop did get here, all they would find is a pathetic little mess, lying on the ground all fucked out and bred, a dumb smile on that pretty face.”

The tiniest whine escapes your throat from that mental image. You wonder if he heard it, but the throaty chuckle on the other end answers your question.

“You dirty fucking whore. You love this. You wanna be pinned down and used until your sweet mind is broken and completely cock drunk.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, trying to keep up the act of defiance even though your desire was palpable in your voice.

“Well, too bad. But I’ll be generous, little one. I’m telling you that I’m coming in now. A little head start if you’re smart,” he says, “You better not waste my fucking time. Give me a good chase, or I’m not gonna be nice when I catch you. Find out if your insides are as pretty as the outside.”

You hang up the phone. Your body was on fire with a mix of adrenaline and arousal. You scamper through the house into another room, wondering what to even start with. Your thoughts are cut off when you hear the back door slide open.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. You move quietly across the room you’re in, peering through the doorway back into the living room. You see him. That tall and fit body donned in a tight black t-shirt and pants. He wears black leather boots on his feet. A large hunting knife is strapped to his belt. His head is covered, and when he turns, your heart seizes at the sight of the ghostface mask.

He catches a glimpse of you through the cracked door and starts toward you. You zoom through the other door in the room, maneuvering quickly around furniture and stray clutter. Then, you loop back to the open back door. You can hear him clambering through the hall behind you. Primal fear courses through you, instinctually telling every cell in your body to run.

“Where do you think you’re going, sugar?” you hear the voice modulator crackle.

Moving through the sliding door, you dart across the backyard. The grass was wet against your feet since you didn’t have the time to grab a pair of shoes. You fumble with the gate, your hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through you. You try to shut it behind you to delay him, but he’s already so close.

You continue sprinting into the woods behind your home. The area surrounding you was dark. It was cold out too. Your skin had broken out into goosebumps, your thin shirt and shorts not providing much warmth, and your bare feet only exacerbating the feeling.

There were trees everywhere, and it felt like there were things hiding within the dense woodland. The whole time you focused on not running into a tree, you could hear him behind you. His breathing was heavier, but it was clear he was exerting minimal effort.

You jump over overgrown roots and duck under stray branches. Despite running for a bit, you still weren’t too deep in the woods. You shoot a look behind you, trying to see if you were any closer to losing him than before. He’s just as close, and in the midst of your attempted glance, your foot catches on a rock. You cry out and tumble to the ground. Skin scrapes against the dirt and rocks beneath you.

He slows his pace to a simple walk, pulling the hunting knife from the sheath. The wide blade shimmers in the pale moonlight. He holds it up and drags a gloved fist over the silver, just like in the movies. Another, low laugh breaks through the speaker of the modulator.

“Too easy, princess,” he taunts, “Get up and keep running.”

Your eyes widen and blood rushes to the lower region of your body at the command. You stumble to your feet and stagger away. Your foot aches a little from the rock and the fall, but you continue in earnest.

He lets you go on for a while longer. Occasionally, he would intentionally fall behind, giving you the illusion that you could outrun him. But also filling you with the dread that you would be out in those woods alone.

Soon enough, he’s had enough of the chase. He speeds up and hooks his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the ground in a swift motion, whipping around your body so quickly that you could barely see it. He’s got one of his knees holding your dominant arm down while a hand holds the knife to your throat. You squirm and whimper under him, causing him to shake his head and make a noise of mock disappointment.

“Poor baby. You did all you could, didn’t you?” he coos menacingly, leaning down closer to your face, “Look at you. Out of breath, heart beating out of your chest. You tried so hard.”

He brings the knife up to your cheek and drags the tip across, not cutting you but letting you feel the cool metal on your soft skin. You whine and scrunch your face in discomfort, eliciting a cruel laugh from him. He drops the knife nearby and shakes his head.

“Not a fan of knives, sweet thing? Too scary?”

Next, you try recoiling from his touch, but he’s caging your body on the ground. The damp dirt presses against your back and smears on his clothing as he wrestles with you to keep you in place. Again, you can see how little effort it takes for him to keep you down. The display of strength has your heart beating harder with lust.

“Keep fighting me, little one. It’s my favorite part,” he breathes before shifting on top of you and roughly flipping you over.

Now, squirming only rubs your face into the soil beneath you. In this position, you can feel his hard cock against your ass. He reaches over for the knife again and brings it to the base of your spine. He uses his knee to hold down your arm again, so he can pull your skimpy top taut and slice through it with ease.

He handles you like a ragdoll and yanks it off. The knife falls to the ground again as he reaches around your body with both gloved hands to knead your breasts. You whimper at the harsh squeezes and rolls of his fingers. His face is right next to your head, and you can hear his ragged breathing under the mask.

He pinches and teases your nipples, your noises now becoming obviously pleasurable. A hand slides into your hair and grips the roots as he shoves your face to the ground. Your cheek is smooshed on the cool surface, and your lips part as your own breathing picks up. Your hips are still squirming, but now only to try and feel some friction with his dick.

“There we go. Such a little slut. Didn’t take much for you to give in. You know this is where you belong. Beneath me, stuffed full of my cock,” he groans.

His hands glide down your body, pulling your hips into place. He tugs your shorts and panties down to your knees, humming in satisfaction when he sees your dripping cunt. Two leather-covered fingers slide through your slick. They circle your puffy clit, drawing mewls from your throat. The fingers then dip inside you and pump in and out a few times. Your body shudders at the sensation.

“So fucking wet. You like this even more than I thought. So sick baby. My twisted little doll,” he teases.

He plants his free hand on the back of your neck and digs his fingers into the side of your throat. His other hand continues working your aching pussy, adding in another finger to your needy hole. You choke out a few moans as your breathing becomes more like panting.

“All this for just my fingers? Can’t imagine how you’re gonna cry on my cock. Maybe scream for me a few times,” he purrs.

After a bit more, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, shushing you when you whine in protest. You hear the sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric being adjusted. It isn’t long before you feel the heat of his cock prodding your entrance. You shift your hips back, taking the tip in.

He grunts and his breath hitches as you clamp down on the sensitive head. Once he regains his composure, he slams his hips forward, sheathing himself fully inside you with one thrust. You cry out and claw the dirt beneath you.

“You wanna be an impatient little bitch, I’m not gonna be gentle with you. If you’re so fucking needy that you can’t wait two seconds for my dick, I’ll treat you like the cockslut you are, sweetheart,” he says before beginning to rock his hips back and forth.

He finds a rhythm with ease. One of his hands gives your ass a few firm smacks while his other hand returns to your head to pull on your hair. The noise of your skin connecting sounds through the woods along with your whining. His grip on your hair is like a vise. The mild sting of the pull mixed with the rush of pleasure from him drilling into you brings some tears to your eyes.

“That’s right, fucking take it. This is what you were made for, sweet girl. Your body knows it,” he grunts as your walls flutter around him.

He smacks your ass again while getting more erratic with his thrusts. The hand in your hair returns to your hip to give him more leverage. His digits dig into your skin to the point of potential bruises. You whimper and moan, your head becoming cloudy while he stretches you out.

His quiet moans hit your ears and make your stomach erupt with butterflies. You tighten around his shaft. You were starting to work up a sweat despite the cool temperature of the air around you. You shudder and twitch, only causing him to hold you tighter.

Your back arches as more sinful noises pour from your lips. A particular thrust snaps something in you and breaks the dam that was holding in your tears. It felt like he was stroking deeper than ever before, and you just couldn’t hold it in. Warm drops stream from your eyes while your whimpering grows louder and less controlled.

“Are you crying, little love?” he coos, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. He starts rubbing your back with even, soothing strokes without stopping his thrusts, “Cry it out, sweetheart. It just feels too good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimper with a weak nod.

“Yes it does. I know, baby,” he says condescendingly. His gloved hand continues caressing your back while he snaps in and out. You grow louder still, whining and moaning through tears.

“Someone’s gonna hear you, doll,” he teases. Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but you’re past the point of being able to control your volume. “You’d probably get off on that though, you little freak.”

“N-no,” you stutter out in an attempt to defend yourself, but you’re cut off by your own gasps of pleasure.

“No? You wouldn’t cum on the spot if someone saw you like this? Taking my cock like the good little whore you are. Crying cause it’s just too much for you.”

You shake your head as best you can while being pressed against the ground. Your pussy clenches around him though from the description alone.

“Sure,” he chuckles before grunting, “Someone could be watching right now. It’s so fucking dark out here you wouldn’t even know.”

You can’t hide the thrill that gives you. A loud cry tears through you and your hips squirm within his grasp, trying to get you to that peak.

“Yeah, I know you like that,” he growls, leaning down and encasing you with his arms. The new angle lets him piston himself even deeper within you.

He keeps grinding himself into you as you both feel the coils of release getting closer to snapping. One of his arms snakes around your head, his bicep curling around your neck. The plastic front of the ghostface mask presses into the side of your head. He’s grunting and moaning into your ear, bringing you right to the edge.

“I feel it coming, honey. Let it go. Cream on my cock, baby girl. Give it all to me,” he mumbles.

With no reason to hold back, you let your release explode. You writhe in his hold, gasping and crying as euphoria floods your being. You bite your lip and tilt your head back to nuzzle and sloppily kiss at the mask.

He’s not far behind you. A few thrusts later, he’s draining himself in you, filling your insides with hot and sticky cum. His hips sputter and the mask becomes misaligned on his head as the two of you press against each other.

You’re both panting in the end. Leon pulls out and rolls off of you, landing on the ground next to you. You don’t move from your place in the dirt and just look over at him. He tugs off the mask and drops it near the knife. For the first time tonight, you see his charming smile and sweet eyes, a sharp contrast to the performance he just put on. He leans over and gives you a soft kiss as he adjusts the rest of his clothing.

You still don’t move from your position. He sits up and rubs your back again. His hands massage the muscles there for a moment before trailing down your leg. He gently lifts your foot and kisses your ankle.

“Your foot ok, baby?” he asks while rubbing your thigh. Even after all that, he hadn’t forgotten your fall earlier.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

“Ok, good,” he says. 

He starts to help you roll over so you can get up. He smiles at you, brushing some dirt off your cheek.

“Let’s get you home so we can shower,” he says and helps you pull your shorts back on as you sit up. He kisses your temple a few times and strokes your hair, “Then we can cuddle and watch some scary movies.”

That makes you crack a smile, and you kiss his lips.

“Let’s get home quick. It’s cold out here, and I don’t have a shirt anymore thanks to you,” you tease.

You rise to your feet and lean on him for support. He picks up the knife and mask as well as the scrap of cloth that was once your top. He offers it to you with a sheepish smile. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Guess, you’ll just have to stay close then,” he says and tucks you under his arm. He kisses the crown of your head before you two start walking back through the woods to your home together.

[strawbeerossi]

Let Me Love You

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Unsub!Spencer Reid

Description: You've always thought Spencer was a sweet guy. What happens when he shows up to your apartment unprompted?

Content/Warnings: Dubcon, mention of stalking, oral (f rec), some crying, obsessive!Spencer, perv!Spencer, mentions of past panty theft.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Twenty: Dacryphilia

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Hearing a knock on your front door at ten in the evening pulled you out of your movie, deciding on having a ‘Scream’ marathon with the rumors swirling about a seventh and final film coming out. You didn’t think anything of it, pushing yourself to stand before heading to look out the peephole. 

You were met with Spencer Reid, one of your neighbors standing with his hands in his pockets while glancing around the hallway. The both of you had talked a few times, however it wasn’t enough to build up a friendship to the point he could feel comfortable randomly showing up though. 

“Spencer?” The sound of the door unlocking inside had him letting out a soft breath of relief. He couldn’t kick down a door like Derek so that idea was out. “Hey, I was stopping by to talk to you about something important. Do you mind if I come in?” You were letting your shoulders bounce. Why not? You stepped out of his way before gently closing the door behind him. “What did you need to talk about?” You asked while sitting back down on your couch with a smile, hand reaching for your mug of hot chocolate. 

“I know it’s none of my business but I was worried about you. I noticed you’ve had a new guy in the area, he just had a sketchy look about him. He already knew it was your ex boyfriend, doing his research via Penelope as she unknowingly helped Spencer fuel a delusional relationship between himself and his neighbor. Hey, if she didn’t like him, then why did she always talk to him when she saw him? She would bring him coffee sometimes or share any left over treats she’d made the night before. 

Nobody was that friendly unless they were interested. 

“You mean Josh? Oh, Spence..” Spence. The nickname was like music to his ears. She said it so sweetly, her words like honey. “He’s just a friend. I know it seems shady how late he leaves but I promise it’s nothing. You have nothing to worry about.” He knew that he didn’t. Spencer wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “I just worry about you, you know?” He spoke while heading over to cup your cheeks. It had you a bit stunned, you never had him get this close before. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest as you gently pushed him away. “You should get going.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested, you just didn’t like this newfound confidence and forwardness towards you. “No, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was low as he was moving to rest his hand against the couch as you were quickly leaning back. “Just.. I don’t know why you fight it, you know? We have a connection. A special one.” 

“I-I don’t know if I’ve given you any false intentions but I’m not-” You’d been cut off by the frustrated huff coming from Spencer’s lips. “Just let me love you, bunny. You won’t even need Josh to come around here anymore. You have me. Consider Josh taken care of. He isn't gonna come bother us at all, I promise.” The words had your eyes brimming with tears. “What are you talking about?!” You’d asked, trying to push him back again although this time he was gripping both of your hands.

“Come here.” He murmured, now closing the gap to let his lips smear against yours. You were trying to hold back from returning the kiss, yet your body was betraying everything your brain was yelling at you not to do. He’d let go of your hands as he pulled away slightly, pressing a few kisses across your jaw before moving to your neck. 

“See? No woman lets a guy kiss their skin if they aren’t interested. Do you believe me? You want me just as bad as I want you.” He spoke while bringing his hands down to grip your hips. The force had you squeezing your eyes shut. “Let’s move this to your room. Don’t worry, I know where it is.” He’d paused your movie before lifting you in his arms, your arms draping around his shoulders quickly while you were looking around. “H-how do you know where my room is?” It was a dumb question, making Spencer laugh. “The key under the mat trick is so old. You’re lucky that I have the key, after all, a random person could come in at any time if they wanted.” 

He’s been inside your apartment. 

Your brain was screaming at you to use your bedside lamp to smash over his head once you’d made it into your bedroom, however your stunned state had you as stiff as a board, body being tossed on the mattress as you watched the male with wide eyes. “I’ll take care of you. Let me prove it, bunny. Please? Let me show you that I can do what Josh can’t.”

You didn’t make an effort to stop him or shove him away, instead letting him tug the fuzzy Halloween themed sleep pants down your legs. “These are so cute, by the way. I really love the ones you have for Christmas though. The one with the reindeer on them.” He clarified while he was tossing your pants somewhere behind him. He looked over your clothed pussy, a soft sigh of content leaving his lips. “These are my favorite pair. I’ve always wanted them but you wear them every time I get a chance to swing by.”

He’s been stealing your panties. That is where they are all going, the washing machine hasn’t been eating them like you thought.

The thought of him stealing your panties was enough to make your eyes well up with tears. What if this man tried to kill you? You didn’t see him doing it but you also didn’t expect for him to break into your apartment and steal intimate articles of clothing from you either.

“Oh, bunny. You look so beautiful when you cry.” He gushed, one hand wiping the tears escaping your eyes. The sight of tears in your eyes had his cock swelling in his pants. He could just imagine making you cry as he fucked you deep into your mattress, you sobbing from overstimulation and the need for more. He didn’t skip a beat as his hands were going to the waistband of your panties now.

“Here we go.” He spoke as he was pulling the red underwear down your thighs with a soft hum, lips pursing as he blew cold air on your glistening cunt. Your body worked against you in this case, pussy being wet and ready for what was to come after the kiss you’d shared in the living room. He didn’t waste time as he leaned down, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your inner thighs. His tongue was licking a stripe up your slick folds, taking in your essence while groaning lowly. So much better than he could’ve ever imagined. Your hand was moving to tangle in his hair, head tilting back against your pillow as his tongue was licking your skin. His mouth had soon after wrapped around your throbbing clit that was begging to be touched, his tongue lapping over it before he was hollowing his cheeks and suckling.

“Oh,” You moaned while letting your eyes flutter shut, hand shoving his face into your cunt more once Spencer was diving in. He ate you like you were the last meal he’d had, drinking up every ounce of arousal that you had flooded his tongue with. “I told you,” He spoke, two fingers delving into your pussy as he was curling them almost immediately in an effort to brush against the button inside of you that you so desperately needed him to find. “You like this, don’t you? Such a dirty girl, letting your neighbor tongue-fuck your pussy.” He growled, a shiver going through your body as you were thinking about the situation now. 

However every ounce of thought was out the window as his fingers prodded against the sweet spot he was in search of. “Fuck,” You whined while letting your hips roll against the thrusts of his fingers. Your slick was running down his hand now, a third finger being added to give you a pleasurable stretch as his tongue was lapping and sucking at your throbbing clit. “I’m gonna cum!” Your nails were digging into his scalp, shoving his face more against your cunt even if it did nothing in the long run. 

As his tongue was greedily licking and sucking your clit, it wasn’t long until you were letting your back arch with a moan of pleasure. You could swear that you saw stars as you were orgasming on his tongue, the male not skipping a beat to lick up your mess while sighing dreamily. 

“See bunny? Didn’t you like that? I know exactly what you like.” He spoke while pushing himself to sit up on his knees.

“Why don’t we keep this going, hmm?”

[georgiapeach30513]

Nothing You Could Do, Part 2

Summary: Steve has to find you, and be honest.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (M receiving), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

You ache. Your body is on fire, and hurting in places you didn’t think possible. Your muscles tinge with the ways they were stretched, pulled, and relished. Your core throbs with a rawness of where Steve was all night long. Riding you. Moving inside of you, and fucking inot you.

All. Fucking. Night. Long.

How many showers have you had? Orgasms? How many ways were you twisted in a pretzel? And how is this hard body still so soft and warm in the most comforting of ways? You sit up groaning, and stretching out your wrought body, wondering just how you did the things you did. Eyes closing, you inhale. The heady scent of fucking Steve is all around you.

Who is this man? And can he do what he did to you again next weekend? Your body will need a few days to recover after that marathon. You could get used to this. Normally you’re sneaking out, avoiding anymore conversation with the loser laying beside you. But this man is no loser. That is a man. All man. Every inch of him.

A very delicious, filthy, thick, sexy, hot, beautiful, warm man. You’re getting ahead of yourself, but you like this one. Like him enough to not want to run off. Like him just enough to want to cook something that was prepared in the microwave. You’re saving money after all, and only one person.

“Lay back down,” Steve pulls on your arm, bringing you back to his snuggly chest. His titties are like hard pillows, but in a good way. Your hand grazes up the sizable pec, playing with his hair on his chest when he groans. “How are you feeling?”

“Like you turned me out. You know what a balloon looks like when it’s been blown up, and it slowly deflates? That’s how my pussy feels,” that is one way to put it. She’s sore, and you don’t even recognize her.

He releases a hoarse chuckle, and that very pussy of yours pings at the sound. How is that sexy? Down girl. Do not get wet. “Well, I guess it’s good that there’s no more condoms, so I’m sorry, but we cannot be fucking anymore.”

“I don’t know whether to be thankful or whine that you’re not going to fuck me again,” your mind and body are saying two different things. Even though it might be difficult, the idea of having him inside of you again makes slick rush to your core, and you curse yourself.

“I wouldn’t say never again. But,” he yawns, stretching out his body. Tightening his muscles, and you grow weak. Wetness leaks out of you.! “But the lack of condoms, and your deflated balloon pussy, we’ll have to hold off.”

“Steve!”

“That’s what you called her!”

“You were the one that was fucking me hard last night!”

Steve gasps dramatically. Clutching his invisible pearls, “You kept screaming for me to fuck you harder!”

“I lacked the ability to talk last night. So this was determined to be a lie,” he snorts, rolling his eyes as he sits up in bed. The sheet drops around his beautiful body, and his cock is already hardening. Slut. “What are you doing?”

“Spread your legs, I want to see how swollen she is.”

“Why?” Smirking that devilish smile, and his fucking damn eyebrow, and you’re already spreading your legs, and leaning back on your elbows as he centers himself between your legs. So close your sex, and you can’t have him.

“Aww, honey, you’re soaked.”

“Am not,” he swipes a thick finger through your slit and holds up the sticky mess for you to view. “You’re so hot! She can’t help it.”

“Well, she is such a pretty girl. My god, she’s still so swollen, and gaping from my cock,” more like the pounds from his pelvis. The slaps from his hands. The suck from his lips, and the bites.

“You bit my clit last night!”

“If I recall, you cried out my name, and wet my face because you came so hard from your clit being bitten,” okay. This is nice. The most filthy words are being spread between the two of you, and it still is fun. “She is a pretty little pussy.”

“You keep staring, and I’ll have to,” you cut yourself off. No, you wouldn’t say such things. You know absolutely nothing about the crazy man that says he’s a presidential candidate, and that should be enough to get you running far far away.

“If we do this again, I’d like to get tested, and then we’ll cross that bridge. I’m only protecting both of us,” you know. It was just a moment of weakness. He leans forward kissing the lips between your legs, and sighs, “Still so sweet. But she does look a bit tired.”

“Did you just say that my pussy looks tired?”

“Seems like she’s not used to such a big cock.”

“She’s not,” not by a long shot. Not even your toys were quite that large.

“That’s too bad. You should be fucked good, and often. But she needs some rest,” his voice goes up too many octaves, and he baby talks to your sensitive flesh, and then pushes your legs together. finishing the conversation with ‘her’, and looks up at you. “However, do you want to see if you can come by sucking my cock?”

“Is that a thing?” There is no way that is a thing.

“Well, you could get on your knees on the couch, and let me fuck your mouth, and if you’re an extra good girl, I’ll even finger you,” oh. Oh, that sounds really nice. Sitting up on the bed, Steve pinches your nipples, and pulls you to him. Crashing his lips into yours, and he devours you. Kissing should not be this sexy. But there is an art to kissing. There needs to be enough hardness, but still have that element of soft sweetness.

He keeps his fingers on your nipples, rolling them between his thumbs, and then pinching harder, only to let go. The ultimate tease, and menace, and your body loves every second of it. “Can we keep the curtains open?”

He sucks on your tongue as he slowly pulls off you. Releasing your muscle slowly, and those dark blue eyes stare intently on your face. “It’s early.”

He looks towards the window, and starts to draw the curtains. Acting oddly about keeping everything hidden before he gives you a small little space of light. You love this city. Love being able to see it while still sleeping. “Is that all?”

“What do you think will happen if someone gets a picture of us in that position?” Who would want a picture of the two of you?

“Oh, that’s right, Mr. President.”

“You keep talking like that, and I won’t finger you,” you hop out of the bed, sauntering over to the couch before getting on all fours, and you wiggle your ass. “I’d really like to see you with a plug in that tight little ass.”

“Oh, while not opposed to anal play of any kind, I have to know you very well.”

Placing himself directly in front of you, he places each hand on your head. Keeping his eyes on you before you open your mouth wide. Sticking out and flattening your tongue, “Neither do I. Now, suck my cock, princess,” his voice is raw. So deep and raspy from the night before as he pushes into your mouth, and you hollow out your cheeks. Receiving him all the way into the back of your throat.

Peering up at him with glossy eyes as he pets around your face. Admiring just how submissive you could be. He fucks into you gently. Lazily even. Pumping his cock into you with a need to empty himself one more time, but this time, inside of you. Your lung sting with the lack of oxygen. Burning for another inhale before he pulls himself fully out, and air races into your lungs but he drives back into you quickly.

“My god, you look absolutely gorgeous like this,” his calloused thumb caresses your cheek as he beams down to you. “So pretty,” he repeats, and you open yourself wider. There’s no way that you’ll be able to take all of him in your mouth without him going down your throat. And maybe one day you’ll advance to that, but not today.

He slaps on your naked rear, chuckling when you lurch forward. “How’s this pretty little pussy looking, hmm?” He leans over your body, forcing you to take more of him, and he grabs each ass cheek, spreading you so wide. Steve gazes at your tender flesh, so raw and sore looking from his thrusts. Only a tiny part of him feels bad about it. The other part is so proud that you took him so well. And wants to know what you sound like when you squirm if he enters you again.

“She is looking a little bit sad, and she’s still crying for me, Princess,” you hum. Preening at his words. “But you did such a good job at being my little slut,” oh the degrading praises should not make your cunt throb the way it does. “You like that, hmm? You like me owning you?”

“Mhmm,” you say, your mouth full of him.

His fingers circle around your entrance, but never sink in their depths. He spreads around your sticky honey, and too gently rubs on your bundle of nerves. Even though you're sore, you want him. You whimper around his length, and he tsks, “I know. I know you think that you can handle it, but I’m not so sure. Maybe one finger?”

He answers by dipping one finger into your body, and he moves in and out of you at the same speed that you suck on his cock. You create a lazy little pattern. Moaning at the way that it feels almost sweet, in a very disgustingly slutty sort of way. And then he adds another finger, and his breathing hitches.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but she looks just as good stretching around my fingers. Where did you come from?” The sound in his voice makes you want to suck his soul right through his cock. It’s what he deserves for talking to you like that. He deserves to see you on your knees, ready to receive him.

You didn’t care that he is a crazy lying man. You can role play for this man. You’re the princess of Monaco, and he can be the president of the United States. You’d meet him at bars, and play all coy. You’d even wear a tiara if it meant that he was going to make you feel so — alive. Cherished. Pleasured.

The man has been treating you like an absolute whore, and it feels so fucking good. This is the treatment that women deserve on a daily basis. Men had the tools, but didn’t have the know-how. Steve knows how to make you feel lighter than air. Swimming in a sea of orgasms. Even sucking his cock while he fingers you is making arousal drip down your thighs.

Coating your legs, while Steve pants over you. Maneuvering your body, you cup his balls. Gently start to massage them, and the squeak and hitch in his voice makes you feel so powerful. You could own this man if you so chose to. And it only seemed fair since he without a doubt owned every inch of you, and every ounce of your pleasure.

You were utterly destroyed for other men, and it didn’t even have anything to do with love, it had to do with pure unadulterated pleasure. Animalistic even. No emotions are involved, but you feel it’s your duty to mate with this man. You’ve got to extend his genes, and you also know that you sound like a fucking idiot. What woman has sex with a man one night, and wants to procreate with him? Not really you, but you’d consider it.

“God, your mouth is perfect. I have never wanted — wanted to — fuck!” His words trail off as his hips start to buck into you more than you bobbing on him. He wants to come. He’s desperate to release, and can’t even think of his filthy words that you love too much. No, this man is melting into your palms from your amazing blowjob.

His movements become staggered and uneven. “You’re too good. Too fucking good,” ahh, that’s sweet. Romantic even. “Wh-wh-what — what’re you — what are,” you don’t know what he’s trying to say, don’t even care. You’ve made him breathless, and unable to speak, so you feel magical.

He fucks into you one hard deep thrust. His balls tighten ever so slightly, and you feel his warmth coat the back of your mouth. His essence starts to drip down your throat, and he stands to full height, “Get on your back, and I’ll let you come on my mouth,” you shake your head no as you sit down on the couch, “What? You didn’t come.”

“I know,” your voice is rough. Wiping around your mouth, you just smile at him. “Steve, trust me when I say that you more than supplied enough orgasms for me last night. And honestly, I don’t know if my body can handle another one.”

“It can,” his mouth tips up into a smile, and you shake your head no. “Yes, your body can take it. Let me prove it.”

“Or,” you wager with him. You’d take another one, but honestly, you’re starving. “How about you use whatever card you used to pay for this room, and get us the biggest breakfast that you can think of, and while we wait we can shower, and I can walk around with your shirt on.”

“And then…?”

“We part ways for now,” his face falls a bit with that remark. It’s not that you wanted to leave him, but you could get lost in fucking him. Forget your life, and your goals to to pleasure this man, and you didn’t want or need to do that.

He wasn’t quite ready to part ways with you, but he knew that Gail would be calling. There is always something to do, and he’d rather end things on a good positive note, and while he could actually tell you goodbye, and not have to run off to a meeting. He nods, agreeing to your terms, and sends a message to Peter. He needs a suit, and a car. And you need for him to wash your hair, and for him to treat you to an amazing breakfast.

But he wasn’t finished with you. Not by a long shot. He just hopes you’re not finished with him. Especially once you find out the truth. How you didn’t even know who he is, is still a mystery to him. But he’ll chalk it up to someone that did not get into politics, despite living in the city. It’s okay. As long as you aren’t down for just last night.

Steve twirls your earring in between his fingers. You’d lost the earring in the bed last night. At least he had an excuse to see you again. But a fake name. Of course you would use a fake name, and he honestly can’t say that he blames you. He didn’t expect any of that. He also doesn’t regret any of it. He wants to repeat it, but on a completely honest playing field.

His eyes start to close slowly, and he’s thankful that the team meeting is over. Starting to stand to leave, Gail shakes her head no, and points to his chair. He’s a grown man, but he knows that Gail’s job is not easy. Knows that she means well, even if she treats him like a child sometimes.

“I want everyone out of this room, except for you, Mr. Barnes,” her eyes stay on Steve, so he knows he’s included in staying behind. “Peter, have someone guarding the door,” his personal assistant gives a nod before Gail stands at the opposite end of the table. Her arms stretch wide over the table. Gail’s hand grips each side of the table as her vision narrows on Steve, but he remains leaning back in his chair comfortably.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Steve?”

“This was an excellent meeting,” she clears her throat. “Umm, your pantsuit looks incredible,” she throws a Manila folder towards Steve and Bucky, and paparazzi photos billow out, and Steve pulls one up. You. There you were with your hand on his chest, while you gave him the best goodbye kiss, and he stuffs you in the car he had ordered.

“The fact that you have these photos is highly creepy.”

“The fact that you put yourself in this fucking position is idiotic,” here we go. “You are campaigning to become president. When I told you to find someone for your arm, I didn’t mean find a DC whore.”

“Woah, woah. You can change your tone immediately right now.”

“Who is she?” That is a great question, and one that Steve couldn’t fully answer despite Bucky finding your real name. “You men are insufferable. And you,” she points at Bucky. “You let him?” Bucky shrugs, smirking at her. “I guess your boy needed to get laid?”

“I guess you need to,” Bucky responds, and quickly turns to his nails. Pretending to clean something from under them.

“Steve, do you know what this means?” Not fully another than the fact that she is annoying him.

“That I’m a grown man that had consensual sex with an amazing woman that I met at a bar,” Gail’s laugh barks out of her mouth, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Finally got rid of that tension headache that has plagued me for a week.”

“What about the security video?” Bucky’s head turns towards Steve, and he starts to laugh.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks her. What is she getting at with the security video.

“You pay enough money, and the fucking hotel talks,” Steve looks towards his friend, not fully understanding. “Good thing I paid the money. You fucking idiot,” she slides over a flash drive. “I made sure it was deleted completely from their hard drive. But you were fingering this whore in the elevator?”

Bucky bellows out a laugh, holding onto his stomach, but Steve glares at his campaign manager, “That’s the second time that you’ve called her that, and I suggest you remove that word from your vocabulary when concerning her.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Gail’s hip cocks to the side. “I truly don’t know. You want to know what happened? I met this incredibly awkward and charming bartender,” Gail groans, but Steve gets louder, “She didn’t even know who I was. She just treated me like a human. And yes, I was extremely attracted to her, and by the end of the evening, I had to have her, and she was consensually in agreement. We went to a hotel, and I fucked her six times. And then she gave me the best head I’ve ever had the next morning. We showered, I fed her, and then I made sure her cute little ass got in the car safely. That’s it. Now, can you please explain what the fuck you’re going on about.”

Gail takes a slow breath, and starts to walk towards Steve, gathering up the photos taken from the morning after his night with you. “You are the most eligible bachelor in the country. I have told you that your odds for election would look better if you had someone on your arm. I explained to you that we could find you a suitable wife,” Steve snorts, gawking at her.

“Yes, Steve, suitable. Not some random bar whore.”

“You will not speak of her like that. If I hear you say that one more time, I will find another campaign manager,” the only time you were a whore is when you were on your knees, for him.

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t even know her. Do I see myself able to love her? Of course,” placing all the photos into the folder, she shoves it up against his chest.

“Then I suggest you find your Cinderella, and you turn her into your girlfriend. Have someone give her a new wardrobe. Give her a salary. Buy a damn ring, I really don’t fucking care. Make America fall in love with her, and get ahead of your sneaky link. Because while you don’t like me calling her a whore, what do you think the opposition will call her?” Steve glares at her. She isn’t entirely wrong. He knows that if you aren’t attached to him, it could be very bad for both of you.

He didn’t care about himself. But you went into this relationship blind. Not that it’s a relationship. But it was the best night of his life. And you were none the wiser for the photos, and the video. He’d been careless, and it put you at risk. “Go now,” she warns, and he stands slowly.

He keeps eye contact as he turns towards the door. “Steve, I can’t stop the photos from going to press. You understand that, right?”

Cracking his head, he nods. Motioning for Bucky to join him, “And Barnes, I expected more from you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. Steve’s a big boy. He’s still alive, and he needed that night,” Bucky knew how badly Steve needed to let go, and be a normal man for once.

“And we all need a win,” she says with finality as she spins on her heels, and clicks out of the boardroom.

“Are we fucked, Bucky?”

“Nah, we just have to make sure the address that I have actually fits your princess. The only hope you have is that she agrees to — the terms? That sounds disgusting. A relationship. But it’ll be fully public. And I don’t think she believed at all that you were running for president.”

You didn’t. He knew deep down that you had no idea who he was. But that was the best part. There were no preconceived notions on how you should be. You even called him Mr. President, and it sounded so good coming out of your mouth. He hoped that he didn’t fuck up the chance at a relationship.

You groan as you look down at the spilt ice cream on your shirt. You wanted that last bite. Everyone knows the last bite is the best bite. It’s completely why you just don’t share the last bite with someone unless you really really like them. You look around the apartment, but know there is no one in here to judge you.

Once satisfied that there aren’t any spiders or ghosts watching, you wipe up the frozen treat off your shirt, and use your mouth to clean it off. It doesn’t taste as good as it would have if it was from the spoon, but beggars can’t be choosers, and you really wanted that last bite.

Now you’re left feeling dissatisfied, and the ice cream wasn’t even the problem. The problem was you still feel him. And the worst part of feeling him is you don’t have him here with you to fix the problem. You doubt that there are enough condoms in the world to fix the aching in your core.

You miss him.

And you don’t even have the right to miss him. You didn’t even know him. Didn’t know if Steve was his real name. Didn’t know what he actually did for work. In retrospect you didn’t know much about this man and his magic cock. And mouth.

Ahh his mouth.

It wasn’t even what he could do with his mouth. It’s the things he said. How he commanded you with so very little effort, but the best part is he delivered on his words. He made them sound delicious, and that you earned them. But! He earned it as well. It doesn’t even make sense, and you’ve tried to wrap your head around it. And you’d tried.

You have tried since the moment you left him to compare any man that you have ever been with, or could ever be with to him. It was a stupid endeavor. There isn’t another Steve. You sigh, leaning your head back on the couch, trying to figure out the best way to locate him. You had to find out. You just had to.

You must have fallen asleep. A beautiful wet sleep with Steve as the lead. And now you’re woken up with a banging on the door. Your head feels so heavy as you lift it off the back of the couch, and now you have an obnoxious crick in your neck. What did you do to deserve this? You’re in pain, and you were just getting to the good part; Steve blowing his load inside of you.

You’re obsessed, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s shameless, but only you knew how you were down bad for that man. The banging on the door continues, and you squint at your phone. You didn’t have anything delivered, so you’re not sure who could be here.

Groggily standing up you walk towards the door, and open it up without asking any questions. Because you’re a crazy person. Peeking through the crack, you’re met with glass blue eyes, and you jump back from the door, fully awake now. “Sweetheart, you should really learn to open the door better.”

Now that you’re not in the doorway, he pushes on through, and a familiar groan growls behind him, “Steve?”

“Yep,” the creepy shadow man that follows him around everywhere steps further into your space. Your home, and starts opening cabinets, and doors, and you look towards the door where Steve is standing. He shakes his head, looking as annoyed as you before stepping inside.

You’ve never been able to manifest things before, and this is not exactly how you thought you would see Steve again. “I apologize for his intrusion,” he takes another step into your apartment, and then looks at you, “May I come in?”

“May you explain to me what is going on?”

“That’s fair,” he stands there, looking at you questioning before you hold your arm out, letting him know to come in. Steve offers you a terse smile before walking in, and closing the door, and fully locking it. You get into the sitting area, and glare at his friend relaxing on the couch and his legs propped up as if this is normal.

“Can I get you some drinks or something?” The shadow man smiles, nodding his head, and Steve responds with a thank you. Your apartment is an open floor plan, and you don’t have to go far, but letting them know the embarrassing list of things that are in your fridge is terrifying.

“Um, I’ve got — uhhh — Yoo-hoos, Capri Suns, filtered water, cold brew, and Hawaiian Punch,” both men stare blinking at you a moment before the odd one smiles.

“Are you a child?”

“Bucky and I will have a Capri Sun,” so the shadow man had a name. That’s good. You get each of you a Capri Sun, and toss one to the men. “Pacific Cooler, this one is my favorite.”

“When you were eight.”

“Can we not make fun of the impeccable beverage I just offered you, and explain to me why you’re both in suits, and I’m in my disgusting sweats. I could have made more of an effort had I known,” you could have been waiting with lingerie and condoms.

Steve takes a deep breath, looking at Bucky, and then back at you, “You lied about your name,” you glance towards his friend who is looking more comfortable, while Steve is standing, and staring at you.

“Yeah, well you work at a bar in this city long enough you know not to be giving random weird men your name. They have a tendency to stalk you.”

“They won’t be doing that while I’m around,” you narrow your eyes towards Bucky, wishing that Steve would open that beautiful mouth. But instead you get the weirdo.

“Have you had someone stalk you before?” Aww, he’s concerned.

“Yeah, but stop talking about me. What the hell are you two doing here, drinking my Capri Suns?”

“You know your social media is quite blank?” Bucky scrolls through his phone, and you want to hurl it at him. “That will make this quite easy. Oooh, you know Scandal is a bit of an overrated show, but I’m glad you have the tiniest bit of knowledge with politics.”

“I really don’t like him,” you point towards Bucky. “Can you shed some light here?” you’re seriously about to get pissed off. Stupid shadow Bucky is scrolling through your social media, and judging your show of choice, while the man with a magic dong is just standing there. “Steve?”

“I don’t know where to begin. You seriously don’t follow politics at all?”

“Why?” You ask annoyed.

“What?”

“Why should I follow politics? It’s just a bunch of white old men who think they know what is best for me. They don’t. Did I offend your career? What, are you like a mayor or something?”

“Or something,” Bucky grins.

“Do we have to have him here?” You point towards Bucky, and both men nod their head. “Okay. So you’re actually in politics. I apologize for my impedance in knocking you down to just a mayor. So you’re a senator?” He shakes his head no. “Congressman?” Again, shakes his head no.

You look towards Bucky, and he smiles again, while you walk over to your beanbag, and start to sink on it. The beanbag was your safe space. It makes you feel all cocooned as bad things happen. “What are you?”

“I’m a presidential candidate,” he didn’t lie. He didn’t lie to you. Oh god, you’re going to be sick. The possible president of the United States tea bagged you. He treated you like an absolute slut, and you loved it. You pull your blankie up to your chin, and think about all the ways this man degraded you.

“To be fair, I did not lie to you.”

“Shh!” You scold, you are going into your brain. Because your body, and your mind are confusing. Your body wants to go to Steve, and let him fuck you into oblivion. Your mind is trying to wrap itself around the fact that you fucked, multiple times, the possible future president of the United States. “How likely are you to win?”

“He’s leading the polls,” you don’t like that man.

“So, um why are you here?”

Steve’s sighs, and sits on the edge of the couch closest to you, and his thick fingers caress your temple. Moving over to your nose, where he runs a finger up and down it. “My mom used to do that for me when I’d get in my head,” it’s nice, but you’re not saying another word, until he starts talking.

“Because of my position people tend to follow me,” he clears his throat, adjusting his tie with his left hand, and it stresses you out. “People with cameras.”

“Is there a sex tape of us? Oh my god! Does this mean that mom is going to see you with your thumb in my ass, while you’re fucking me from behind?” among other things.

“My god!” Bucky gives a whoop, and you look over towards him. “I’ll go wait in the hallway. Can I get another Capri Sun?”

“Are you eight?”

“Only in my head,” he gives you a wink, walking towards your fridge, and you curl back into yourself.

“You can pet my nose again,” Steve smiles, and starts to pet your nose, “So there’s a sex tape? How do we get on top of this? Are my parents going to see me crawling on the floor towards you?”

“There is no sex tape, Princess,” that’s nice. You like that name very much. “There’s pap photos of you doing the walk of shame out of the Four Seasons,” oh. My. God! There is too much to process there. “You’re covered, but there’s one of me kissing you.”

“Doing that chin tilt up thing?” He nods his head, and you very much would like to see this photo. “I don’t know if I understand.”

“Well,” he gulps. “Can I join you on that thing?”

“The Lovesac?”

“That’s what the beanbag is called?” You nod, scootching over a bit to give him room, and the big man gets into your cocoon with you. He pulls you over onto him, and you start to melt. Yes, he was amazing with his cock, but honestly, the cuddling was just as amazing. How warm and snuggly he feels. Both hard and soft.

“There’s only one way I can protect you from the public,” you’re listening. Lifting up his hand to weave your own with his. “It’s not the most ideal, and you are free to walk away. But if we put it out there that you are my girlfriend, and not just some hookup it won’t make you look like…”

“Your whore,” you whisper. Dropping his hand, while you focus more on your blankie.

“Essentially,” there’s something so reassuring about his voice. He understands why you would choose not to agree to this. But there seems to be a hope that you will.

“So I would be hired to walk by your side as your girlfriend with no strings attached?” It feels so grimy when you say it out loud. You didn’t want to be a girlfriend for hire, and you doubt that Steve would want that either.

“Is that what you would want?”

“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice. Either I pretend to be your girlfriend, or I’m labeled as the president’s whore. I won’t be able to live in the city ever again. I’d have to go back to bum fuck Egypt in my small hometown just hoping that nobody pays attention to presidential gossip. Why — why didn’t you…I mean you did. I know that you did. And I said it over and over again, but I just thought you had a president kink. And now here you are saying it’s a high possibility that you’re going to be living in the,” an odd noise bubbles up from your throat, and you sit up.

“I think I’m going to be sick. I ate the president’s cum. I painted the president’s cum on my body. I have fantasized about fucking the president for the past few days.”

“I am still just Steve,” he reminds you, and you glance back at him. “Think of it as a job. But I am still just me. I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t fully go into the truth, and I wasn’t sure if you were doing a bit.”

“A bit?” Chuckling, you flop back on the beanbag with him. “I called myself the Princess of Monaco, and you thought I was doing a bit? What kind of weirdo do you think I am?”

“The best kind?” That was sweet. He’s sweet, and you’re not sure you’re willing to completely change your life. Could you go on the road, and campaign with him? As his significant other?

“So, let’s say that I decide to pretend to be your girlfriend,” Steve cringes. There’s something in the words that you’re saying that bothers him a bit. “Am I going to have a glow up montage?”

“What?”

“You know, like in the movies. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman kinda thing. That was a bad example. I’m not a prostitute. Not that I care. Power to sex workers. The people work hard in that job, and it’s not just women. Men, too. But are you going to change how I look?” You can’t just walk around in your leggings and t-shirts anymore.

“Publicly,” hmm. That’s an interesting way to say it. He doesn’t care what you wear in private.

“So will I get to live at the White House with you. If you win, I mean. I don’t know if you’re superstitious, but that sounds like a terrible thing to say. But can an unmarried couple sleep there?” You gasp, “Will you be the first president that just has his live-in girlfriend there? Would we share a room?”

“Shh,” he coos, trying to get your racing brain to calm down. But how can it calm down when you’re going between excited and sick to your stomach? “You wouldn’t be just my girlfriend on the campaign.”

“Come again?”

“It’s suggested that you would be my fiancé. It sounds a bit more permanent,” that sick feeling is bubbling up in your gut again. The Capri Sun is not sitting well. This just went to a place you didn’t think it would.

“So a pretend fiancé now?”

“Can we drop pretend?” That’s what’s bothering him? The word pretend?

“Wait. Not pretend?”

“I’d prefer not. We’re being honest, and I wasn’t going to say anything, but the idea that you’re just there to look good on my arm is making me sick. We had sex. We had amazing sex, but I don’t want to just have sex with you,” what does that mean? “I would like to spend time with you. Actually date. Have you become a friend during this campaign.”

“That sounds nice,” you smile, grabbing his hand again, and start playing with his fingers. He only gets the fingers when you're in a happier place. “So we date while we’re on the campaign trail. But publicly I’m your fiancé.”

“It sounds gross, I know.”

“I wouldn’t call it gross. I’ve dated a lot of frogs. I’d call it crazy. Can I ask you a question without you thinking I’m vain? Because I’m not. But when are these photos being printed?”

He scoots down more into the Lovesac making himself more comfortable, “Sunday morning,” he could have just said tomorrow, damn. That gives you no time at all to think. No time to process this.

“So I’m going to be very selfish right now,” he turns his head to look at you. “Are we going to keep doing the sex?”

“I would very much like to keep doing the sex with you,” you start counting your inhales and exhales. Traveling the country with Steve, while you also get to the sex with him is a positive. Having everyone look at you through a magnifying glass is the negative. “And I would also very much like to watch you have your glow up montage, and not in a creepy way. Only if you want me to be creepy.”

“I want you to be creepy with me sometimes,” that sounded weird even coming from you, “But I don’t know if I can do this. This is a lot. How did you find me?”

“Bucky was creepy.”

“He’s always creepy. Is he always with you?” He nods his head, “Of course he is. He’s kinda like your ninja warrior that keeps you safe.”

“Otherwise known as part of my security team, yes,” you’re going to have to learn words with him. Real words, and not just making things up.

“My words are so much more colorful than yours. Do you really think I could be a,” you retch. That doesn’t even sound right. “A First Lady?”

“Do you think I could be a president?”

“I mean maybe. I might vote for you,” he kisses the top of your head, and for the first time in this conversation, you feel oddly at peace. A small gesture. “I don’t want to spend every second with you IF I choose to do this.”

“What?”

“I mean, I can’t lose my independence. I can’t lose me. And I have never wanted to spend every waking second with someone. It’s a bit odd, ya know? I want us to do our own thing considering we’re going to be strapped together.”

“I think that’s fair, Princess,” he sits up too abruptly, leaving you wishing that he would lay back down with you. That was nice, and you want it back. “You understand that if you choose not to,” he looks away from you. Did he feel the same things that you felt that one night? It’s not love. It’s a great start to maybe finding it. And then this dumbass campaign.

“If you choose not to do this, I can’t take chances with you,” meaning he can’t sneak around and do the sex with you.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I guess that is one way to look at it,” abort mission. You don’t like that or the look in his eyes. It hurts your heart. “I can’t risk it for me, but especially not you. Things that happen in the dark eventually get brought to light.”

“Were you going to pick some random girl to be your fiancé?” He shakes his head no, and that leaves you with the tiniest bit of relief. Tiny, but still there.

“No. I was going to become a single president. Would you still like me to continue to call you Slade or Meadow?”

“Ehh, Princess is my preferred nickname,” he leans forward to kiss your forehead. Adjusting himself to stand, “Where are you going?”

“A meeting. I’ll leave my number for you, please call me, regardless of what you decide. I’ll understand no matter what your decision is,” no matter what you decide. He’s leaving it completely in your hands. Do you want your glow up montage, or do you want to become the whore that slept with the future president?

Do you want to possibly have something real with him? Or do you want to kick yourself forever and think what might have been? Back in the cocoon. And think. Or sleep. You were woken up. Make a note to do laundry because you saw Steve again with an ice cream stain on your shirt, and fluffy socks. Think. Ponder. Wonder.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @buckysteveloki-me @peaches1958

@seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightamyeoncravings

@kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @distractingbeth @buckybarnesisdaddy

@musingsfromthemitten @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @elaramae @blackchickinthedesert @hisredheadedgoddess28

@otterlycanadian @mima116 @mycrimsonsparrow @loverofthedilfs