#worst leg burn I’ve ever had

[kitty-x-kat]

Wore a long ass skirt today for the first time in ages because

Pictures do it no justice. Shits glowing red lmaoo.

[glotoru]

SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger

── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.

content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks <3

god, you’re annoying sometimes.

unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.

and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.

it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.

eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.

but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.

“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”

‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.

it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”

eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.

“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.

the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.

honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.

the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.

and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.

fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.

eren jaeger: death by pussy.

doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.

“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”

eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”

you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.

your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.

his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.

“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.

“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”

your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.

you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.

eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.

the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.

the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.

“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.

“you said just the t-tip.”

“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”

eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.

the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”

and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.

with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.

“just…right there—”

your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!

there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.

“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.

and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.

“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.

the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.

because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?

nobody.

after all, you’re one of a kind.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

My Masterlist

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered

i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)

~~~

Lovefool

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you

summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…

word count: 4.4

~~~

2011

You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”

“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.

Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.

“What question?” He responds.

“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”

~~~

1993

Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.

You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.

The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.

What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?

Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.

At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.

It was around that time that he had found the mask.

It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.

He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.

Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.

He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.

“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.

“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”

Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.

Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.

~~~

The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.

However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.

So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.

He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.

After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”

Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.

“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.

“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?

“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.

“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”

You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.

“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.

Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.

“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.

He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”

He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.

~~~

“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.

Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It’s seventy degrees.”

“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”

Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”

Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.

So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.

It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.

On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.

“Is this really for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.

You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”

“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”

“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”

Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.

“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”

You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.

~~~

The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”

You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.

“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”

You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”

You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”

“How is it scary?” He laughed.

“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.

“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.

“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”

“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.

You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”

“Well, is that what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.

“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.

“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”

Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”

You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.

“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”

His heart practically stopped. “What?”

“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”

Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.

As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.

You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.

He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.

He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.

When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.

You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.

You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”

“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”

He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”

“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.

“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”

“What?” You asked.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.

~~~

2011

“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”

All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.

Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.

You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”

“So?”

You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”

[baelabong]

ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʟ

(ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜰᴇᴍʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

plot: concerts can be stressful but luckily karina is there to help y/n out

rq: yes

you were always good at hiding things—emotions, desires, even the little fantasies you had. but when it came to karina, it was impossible to keep your cool. especially when her cleavage was right there, teasing you in every outfit she wore. the worst part? she knew. she always knew.

it started small, little glances during practice when her tight shirt clung to her chest just right. you’d let your eyes wander for a second too long, and when you realized she caught you, your heart would race, and your face would burn with embarrassment. she’d smirk every time, loving how flustered you got.

you thought you were slick about it, but karina had noticed your staring from the very beginning. the way you’d bite your lip when she leaned over, or how you’d quickly look away the moment her eyes met yours. she could practically feel the tension building between you two, and it amused her how easily you were shaken by her presence.

it wasn’t until today, though, that things finally boiled over.

the five of you were backstage, getting ready for your concert. the stylists had already left, and the rest of the group was scattered in their own rooms, fixing final details on their outfits. you were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your top for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to distract yourself from the way karina was leaning against the wall, her chest pushed out ever so slightly.

"you good?" her voice broke through your thoughts, making you jump.

you looked up, heart pounding, and saw her smirking at you. she had noticed you staring again—this time, blatantly, without even trying to hide it. your face flushed immediately, and you tried to laugh it off, but karina wasn’t letting it slide this time.

"something on your mind?" she asked, pushing off the wall and taking a few slow steps toward you.

"n-no," you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up as she moved closer. you took a step back instinctively, but the back of your legs hit the edge of the vanity table, trapping you.

karina’s smirk deepened. "really? because i’ve been watching you for a while now, and you’ve been staring at my chest like you’ve never seen tits before."

your breath caught in your throat, and you looked down, avoiding her gaze. she was right, of course, but hearing her say it out loud made your whole body heat up with embarrassment.

"oh, don’t be shy now," she teased, stepping even closer until her body was almost pressed against yours. "you’ve been such a good girl, trying to hide it. but i see right through you."

you swallowed hard, your heart racing as you felt her breath against your ear. she was so close now, her body towering over you, and you couldn’t help but sneak another glance down at her chest, feeling a rush of arousal when you saw how perfect she looked in her tight outfit.

karina chuckled softly. "see something you like, baby?" she asked, her voice low and teasing as she caught your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

you nodded before you could stop yourself, and her smirk widened. "good girl," she cooed, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "i knew you couldn’t resist."

your mind was spinning, and before you could say anything, karina’s hand slipped under your chin, tilting your head up further as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "you’ve been such a little perv, haven’t you? staring at me like that, hoping i wouldn’t notice."

you shuddered at her words, biting your lip to keep from making any noise. her voice was dripping with condescension, and it only made the growing heat between your legs worse.

"and now," she whispered, her hand sliding down your neck to your chest, fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you tremble, "i’m going to make you show me just how badly you’ve been wanting it."

your breath hitched as karina’s hand moved lower, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your top. your mind screamed at you to stop this, to push her away, but your body betrayed you, your chest arching into her touch as she cupped your breast, squeezing gently.

"that’s what i thought," karina murmured, her eyes darkening with lust as she watched your reactions. "you’re so fucking cute when you’re flustered."

you whimpered softly, feeling completely powerless under her touch. you had always imagined this moment in your head, but now that it was happening, it felt so much more intense than you’d ever imagined.

karina’s hand moved to your other breast, squeezing harder this time as her lips trailed down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your knees weak. "look at you, falling apart just from this. does my pretty baby want mommy’s fingers, too?"

her words made your core clench, and you could barely breathe as she continued her assault on your senses, her voice low and taunting. "such a dirty girl," she growled, pulling your top down roughly, exposing your chest. "i bet you’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh? how my tits would feel in your mouth, how you’d love to suck on them."

you nodded, unable to form words as karina pushed you back against the vanity, her body pressing against yours as her hands continued to explore. "go on, baby," she whispered, her lips brushing against yours. "suck on them like the needy slut you are."

your hands trembled as you reached up, cupping her breasts through her shirt, and when she nodded, you pulled her top down, your mouth instantly latching onto her nipple. the moan that left her lips was low and guttural, and it sent a wave of arousal straight to your core.

"that’s it," karina gasped, her hand tangling in your hair as she held you against her chest. "such a good little slut, doing exactly what mommy tells you."

your body ached with need, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against her thigh, desperate for some kind of friction. karina noticed, of course, and her lips curved into a smug smile. "you’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?" she teased, her hand slipping down between your legs. "can’t even wait until we’re alone."

"please," you whimpered against her skin, your body trembling as she pressed her hand harder against your core, the fabric of your shorts doing nothing to dull the pleasure.

"what do you want, baby?" she asked, her voice thick with lust as she pulled your mouth away from her chest, making you look up at her. "use your words."

"i want you," you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand. "please, mommy."

karina smirked, and in one swift motion, she spun you around, bending you over the vanity. your breath hitched as you felt her hard length press against your ass, and your legs trembled with anticipation.

"you’ve been such a naughty girl," karina growled, her voice full of authority as she yanked your shorts down, exposing you to the cool air. "now you’re going to take what mommy gives you."

you barely had time to process her words before she was thrusting her fingers into you, her long fingers stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you let out a loud moan, your hands gripping the vanity as she set a brutal pace, her free hand gripping your tits

"that’s it," karina groaned, her voice rough as she grabbed your hips, pulling you back to meet her thrusts. "take it all, baby. let mommy fuck you like the little slut you are."

your mind went blank, your body consumed by the pleasure as karina pounded into you, her hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"you’re going to come for mommy, aren’t you?" karina growled, her hand sliding down to rub your clit in quick, harsh circles. "come on, baby. let me feel you come."

her words pushed you over the edge, and with one last thrust, you came undone, your body trembling as you cried out her name. karina groaned, her pace never faltering as she fucked you through your orgasm. her body collapsed against yours, her breath hot against your neck as she pressed lazy kisses to your skin.

"good girl," she murmured, her voice soft and full of satisfaction as she pulled out, leaving you trembling and spent against the vanity. "you did so well for mommy."

your legs felt like jelly as you turned around, leaning against the vanity for support. karina smirked, brushing a stray hair out of your face. "better get dressed, baby. we’ve got a show to do."

[jungaji]

CATCH THAT GOMDO! ᵔⰙᵔ | 12 iced americano

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neo city hums with its usual morning rush, but haechan is in no mood to enjoy it, his breath coming in quick bursts. he’s weaving through the crowd like his life depends on it—because it kind of does. his first day back at work after his break (read: suspension), and he’s already late. 

his legs burn as he pushes himself faster, gripping his bag tighter as he mentally runs through a list of flimsy excuses to tell renjun, although, none of them will work, and he knows it all too well.

just as he rounds a corner, focused only on getting to work, he slams into someone, the sudden impact jolting him, almost throwing him off balance.

“dude, watch where you’re—” he snaps, irritation bubbling up as he straightens himself, but the words die in his throat when he sees who it is.

it’s you.

of course it's you. you always had a knack for showing up at the worst moments—his worst moments.

haechan glares up at you, frustration boiling over, but his resolve wavers when he catches the look on your face. you seem genuinely happy to see him, and for some reason, that throws him off balance more than the collision ever could.

his eyes fall to the iced americano in your hand, which you quickly hold out like a peace offering, as if this was all part of your plan.

“haechan!” you say, your voice bright despite his scowl. “i was just about to go look for you.”

for a second, he just stares, then his jaw tightens. he doesn’t have time for this. he doesn’t have time for you. not now, not after everything that you've done to him. he steps back, desperate to keep moving and put some distance between you.

“um, i.. i bought you,” you continue, lifting the iced coffee higher, “i wanted to apologize for... well, everything.”

haechan’s eyes flicker to the drink, then back to you. his expression hardens as he scoffs, “i don’t want your coffee.”

you blink, slightly taken aback by his coldness, but quickly recover. “could we just.. just talk for a minute? i—”

“i don’t want to talk,” he snaps, the irritation clear in his voice. “i’ve got nothing to say to you.”

your own frustration begins to simmer beneath the surface, but you swallow it down. you weren’t exactly thrilled to be here either, but you couldn’t afford to disappoint giselle again. she’d always been there for you, and you knew you owed it to her to at least try, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

“you think i want to be here?” you retort, your voice edged with bitterness. “i’m not doing this for you, haechan. i’m doing this for giselle.”

that catches him off guard, and for a brief moment, his eyes flicker with something—surprise? guilt? he looks away, jaw clenched, clearly not expecting your frustration to match his own.

“look,” you say, sighing as the anger drains from your voice, “i know i screwed up, but i’m trying here. can you at least hear me out for a minute? please?"

haechan looks back at you, and for a long, tense moment, it feels like he’s about to brush you off again. but then, he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly as he finally lets his guard down—if only a little.

“fine, i guess,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “but make it quick. i’m already late.”

you nod, grateful for the opportunity to at least get some words in. "this is.. this is really hard for me but..." you begin hesitantly, pulling your bag forward. “what if we... shared gomdo? i mean, he was yours to begin with..."

taglist(open): @hyuckluvr-com @dudekiss3r @iamsimplyasimp @miniature-tragedy @hamjwis @multifandomania @n0hyuck @jeongintwt @catpjimin @sunghoonsgfreal @loveholicness @222brainrot @swee7dream @joyzluvr @haechyuckan @injunnie-lemon @yewshi @p4tyaraujo @hyucktion @aek1ra @dwcljh @mystverse @kirbrary @ldh0000 @haechsworld @beomgyusonlywife @docilismo @222low @strrykais @polarisjisung @jeonghansshitester @spideykeyring @meemememeem @nessaassen02 @hyuckies18 @minkyuncutie @slayhaechan @xiaojunsdino @chenlesfavorite @taroddori @thegracerammy @luv4jeno @kyubing @chibilino @lionzyon @foxy-kitsune @hyuckiesoftie

authors note: first written chapter how we feeling😵‍💫😵‍💫 aaa sorry for disappearing oh my gosh ive been feeling a lil unmotivated lately because sch starts in two days n im dreading it so bad :[ also because sch is starting, i might have to start a fixed update schedule, so if u read this please lmk if u would prefer double updates on wednesday or updates during the weekends!!! ALSO ALSO 7dream & rii7e this week??? singlehandedly cured me🥰 ALSO ALSO ALSO thank you for all the birthday wishes!!! i love u guys so much! happy reading :]

[daceydeath]

Tipsy Confessions

Pairing: Yunho x Reader Word Count: 2.1k Genre: Smut, Brother's Best Friend Warnings: 18+, Alcohol, Swearing, Explicit Content

This was the worst idea you had ever had and simultaneously your greatest idea ever, at least that’s what you told your slightly tipsy self as you made your way towards your bedroom in the middle of the house party your brother Mingi had thrown while your parents were away. You had seen the way some of his friends looked at you. They had all made it obvious but out of the three of them only one held your attention. 

Your tight red dress was a controversial choice when Mingi had first seen you in it but after a few beers he had stopped caring what you were wearing and who you were talking to or more importantly who you were flirting with. A few paces behind you was Yunho following you just like you knew he would, Mingi’s ex girlfriend had let it slip one day that Yunho had feelings for you when she was talking to Mingi, who scoffed and told her that was impossible. You, however, had been sending him subtle signs since then and after the way his eyes raked over your body and the possessive looks he gave you any time another guy would speak to you made you think it was true. Slipping into your bedroom you didn't lock the door before you simply stood in the middle of your room waiting for him.

“You’re playing with fire you know” He smiled roguishly as he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure.

“Maybe I like fire” you looked at him with the best doe eyes you could manage.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble” he chuckled darkly, closing in on you until he was right in front of you, his hands moving to your hips and squeezing slightly which made you shiver in anticipation.

“I like trouble” you smiled sweetly looking up at him through your lashes making him swallow hard, tugging you slightly forward until you were pressed flush against him.

“Tell me to leave now, I might not be able to later” he murmured, giving you one last chance to stop what he was about to do.

“I want you Yunho” you admitted the last shred of your bravery tangled with the lust you were feeling burning its way through your bloodstream.

“You are going to kill me baby girl” he almost groaned leaning down to press his lips to yours hungrily. His plump lips slid against yours feeling like everything you had hoped they would, when his tongue poked at the seam of your lips you were eager to allow him entry letting him lick into your mouth messily his tongue dancing with yours. His hands slid up and around your waist his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts as his fingers wandered your body. Lifting you suddenly you yelped and he grinned walking you to your bed and laying you down covering you with his body, slotting himself between your legs as though he was always meant to be there.

“So pretty and so pliant baby girl. Letting me just pick you up and do whatever I want to you” His words were muffled due to his mouth being still partially attached to yours. You ran your fingers through his hair while he kissed down your neck and across your chest.

“You going to let me fuck you? Huh baby girl, Gonna let me make you mine?” he smirked watching your face as you nodded violently, your brain already foggy with only thoughts of him.

“Please Yunho” you mumbled watching a wicked grin cross his face as he sat back on his knees tugging at your dress to give you the message to get it off of you while he discarded his jeans and boxers. Slipping out of your dress you didn’t miss the sound of his sharp inhale of breath when he realized you were not wearing underwear.

“Such a naughty minx” he breathed pulling his shirt over his head and pressing you back onto the bed, his hands wandering your body squeezing and massaging his way from your breasts to your thighs leaving goosebumps wherever he touched his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” he smiled against your skin, kissing his way down your chest stopping only to swirl his tongue around your nipple before sucking it between his lips and teasing it with his teeth until it was swollen and hard.

“Mmm wanted this for ages” you sighed, arching into his again and grasping at his hair making him hum against your flesh as you tugged it gently before he continued to your stomach and finally to your hips. His large hands each taking hold of one of your things to spread them further apart allowing him better actress to your already glistening folds. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, eyes staring into yours to allow you one final moment to stop him before licking a long slow stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Yunho” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillows as he expertly made out with your cunt, each swirl of his tongue around your clit feeling like heaven and each time he licked his tongue inside of you made your hips chase him.

“God you taste so sweet my baby girl” he groaned into you his tongue speeding up as your arousal began dripping from your hole drinking it from you like a man dying of thirst. 

“Yunho…Shit…. I’m going to…Ah” you tried to form a sentence as you felt the knot that had been slowly building slowly finally snap making your legs tremble as Yunho continued to hold the open.

“You're gorgeous when you cum baby girl” he smiled, coming back up to your face to cup it and kiss you sweetly as you recovered from your orgasm. “Think I’m going to have to make you do it again and again”.

You could feel the head of his cock moving slowly through your folds as he gently rubbed himself against you collecting your essence to make it easier for him to fuck you,when you stiffened slightly not feeling as confident as you had been only moments ago and of course he sensed in immediately.

“I won’t put it… No, I mean we don’t have to continue” he swallowed hard “Fuck I should hae waitied until you were totally sober, shit you regret it don’t you? I’m sorry baby girl” he continued forcing himself away from you so he could look for his clothes to leave you.

“No wait! Yunho I want to I’m just nervous” you almost shouted grabbing at his arm to pull him back to you taking in his disappointed and slightly panicked face. “I’ve never done this so I’m nervous but I want you Yunho, I want my first time with you” you added much more quietly looking at him hopefully.

“This is your first time?” he blinked, surprised by your revelation “But I know you have had boyfriends before”.

“Yeah and it never lasted very long because I wouldn’t sleep with them” you shrugged, embarrassed that what had started out so hot and carefree was now becoming awkward and unlikely to happen at all.

“Are you sure you want this with me? I mean I will so happily fuck you, I’ve been in love with you for ages but are you sure?” he pressed softly taking your fingers ans kissing them gently.

“You love me?” you gapped not even processing the rest of the words he said.

“Shit I wasn’t going to tell you that right now” he sighed, deep pink flushing across his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears “But yes I love you”.

“So can we go back to kissing and about to have sex part please?” you asked shyly, biting your bottom lip and looking at him hopefully. The dazzling smile that crossed his face made your heart skip a beat slowly crawling back over you until he was just hovering above your lips.

“I should really be taking you out first but since you asked so nicely” he teased before pressing his lips back against yours gently, less desperate than before and far more sensual, deepening the kiss slowly as you whimpered against his lips. Yunho moved his hands back to your body carefully, letting his hands map out your body before dipping his fingers between your folds and circling your clit with feather light touches you arched into him, feeling him smile against your lips. He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock once again sliding it through your folds and letting it catch against your clit. You rolled your hips against him making him chuckle as he lined himself up with your entrance slowly pushing his aching cock into your tight hole.

“Yunho” you cried softly, the stretch of your walls around him almost too much for you but at the same time nowhere near enough. 

“So tight baby girl” he panted stilling once he had sheathed himself inside you completely giving you some time to adjust “You ok if I move now? Tell me if I hurt you and I’ll stop”.

“Ah, please Yunho, ngh need more” you whined as you felt him slowly roll his hips against you the pain you were expecting was not there you could only feel pleasure.

“We have all night baby girl there is no rush” he murmured, connecting his lips to yours while he picked up his pace making you moan against his mouth. “Fuck you make such pretty noises”.

His steady pace was igniting heat in your lower belly again, each perfect deep long thrust of his hips giving you enough to start digging your nails into his back. His lips moved to your neck sloppily kissing wherever he could reach until he felt your walls beginning to flutter.

“Fuck baby girl you gonna cream on my cock?” he panted, your walls tightening around him again until you couldn’t help but come with a sharp cry of his name. Fucking you through your orgasm he slowed his hips until you were rolling your hips back against his desperately. His hips moved fast surrounding you with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your wet cunt as he fucked into you hard and fast.

“Where do you want it baby girl?” he moaned loudly, his thrusts turning sloppy as he neared his own peak.

“Inside me, please Yunho inside me” you babbledas you heard him growl gripping your hips so hard you thought it might leave bruises. He thrust hard and deep inside you a few more times before filling you with his seed. Instantly Yunho was cupping your face, kissing your lips, cheeks and everywhere else lighty until he was ready to pull his now softening cock from you. Collecting you gently he laid himself down cradling you to his chest while you both tried to catch your breath.

“That was incredible, baby girl” he whispered into your hair, kissing the top of your head softly “Did I hurt you?”

“No Yunho?” you yawned “That was perfect” he hummed softly as he squeezed you softly leaving you in silence for a few minutes letting your sex addled brain catch up.

“What do we do now?” your voice showing the uncertainty creeping into you. 

“Well now right now I’m going to just let you rest but later maybe we go round two?” you could hear the smug look that was no doubt on his face.

“That’s not what I mean” you grumbled thinking perhaps he didn’t want to talk about it because it was just sex to him you were still just going to be his best friend's younger sister despite saying that he loved you earlier.

“I know” he admitted carefully “I know that I want you, I know I want you to be mine and I know Mingi is going to fucking kill me”.

“Mingi isn’t going to kill you” you smiled looking up at him noticing the dusting of pink on his cheeks. He had just fucked you but admiting he wanted to be with you was the embarrassing part.

“Oh yeah? I distinctly remember him saying to all of us he will kill any of his friends that dare to touch you” he joked trying to lighten the mood from how serious it had become. 

“I would never let him kill you though, maybe Wooyoung, but never you” you giggled making him roll his eyes before silence overtook the pair of you. Looking into his eyes you felt so safe and loved. 

“Rest baby girl I’ll stay right here with you” he soothed as you yawned again holding you tighter “We can talk about it later when you aren't so tired”.

A/N: Thank you for reading, I have recently fallen into a bit of an Ateez hole but that's alright because I love it. As always and comments, reblogs or like are appreciated you sexy sexy people xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar , @tara-skyhold , @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[littlestarlightseverywhere]

Do Your Worst

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s lover is having a hard time, but no amount of acting out can push him away

Warnings: mentions of violence (torture)

Notes: Sorry for the silence, I’ve been having terrible writer’s block but I think I did okay with this one!

Image Credit: Pinterest

Today was rubbish. Probably one of her worst days yet. 

It had been exactly two months since Hybern captured her from Azriel’s post and took her to their war camp deep in the Spring Court’s woods. Exactly two months since she’d been tortured for information she’d die before giving up. Exactly two months since she’d made peace with her death. Rhys couldn’t track her immediately, Mor and Feyre’s searches came up empty each time, and even Azriel’s shadows couldn’t pick up a clue. Azriel had driven himself mad, downright insane, trying to find her. Each day he spent every waking hour looking for clues, scouring the forests for her scent, and each day he returned to bed with nothing to show for it. It took Amren and Nesta a month to finally locate her. In that month she laid cut and bruised, chained to a wooden post like an animal, struck, cut, and burnt for every question she refused to answer. They left her in the middle of that camp, exposed to the heat of the day, the cold of the night, the rain, the wind, and the thunder. They made her into a spectacle. 

She only thought of her family, her Azriel, the entire time. My Azriel, she’d think each time they brutalized her. My Azriel, my Azriel, my Azriel. Rhys collapsed when she allowed him into her mind after they brought her home. He would never forgive himself for sending her on that mission, nor would he ever show his brother what she’d shown him, for Azriel very well would have sent Prythian to immediate war. 

And while the cuts, bruises, burns, and broken bones would heal completely, the skin of her back would forever be changed, marred with angry, raised scars from a heavy leather whip. She could barely walk. 

The first time Azriel saw the lashes on her back, he was helping her undress the night she returned home. Each movement caused her to cry out in pain. She tried to bite her lip, clench her fist, grip Azriel’s arm, tried anything to keep from crying, but nothing helped– the pain was too much. It would’ve been a mercy from the Mother to fall apart, limb by limb, bone by bone, instead. 

Azriel had seen all the other scars when Madja was working on her; those alone made him sick and wild with a hideous rage, potent enough to crumble the mountains surrounding the city into nothing more than powder on the ground. The lashes on her back– the thought of some wretched male stripping her and lashing a whip over her soft, warm skin in the mud and rocks– filled him with a fury so intense, so horrid, he could’ve wrapped his bare arms around the sun and pulled it down to earth. Set everything on fire. 

That very night, with names in his ear courtesy of the shadows and Cassian and Rhys positioned at her door, Azriel made each of those names pay. He was back by sunrise, tucked into bed beside her, wing draped over her restless body, and she was none the wiser. 

“You’re killing it,” Madja’s appointed physical therapist, Jarrah, encouraged as he watched her do her exercises. He was tall and muscled with glittering, golden-brown skin, looking ever the Summer Court high fae that he was. 

“It’s killing me,” she ground the words out, mincing each syllable as they passed through her teeth. Pain gripped her legs, lower back, and upper arms like a vise as she fought to complete a rep, the movements squeezing every last bit of energy out of her and collecting on the mat below in puddles of sweat. “I can’t do it, Jarrah.” 

“You can and you will,” he squared his shoulders at her, smile fading as he willed her to find her strength again. In recovery, he’d taught her, there were good days and there bad days– healing was not a linear process. 

Some days she did well in physical therapy and pushed herself– the pain only meant she was getting stronger. Azriel would be absolutely beside himself with pride and their friends echoed as much. 

Other days, her body seemed to give out in protest, the pain too unbearable, and she’d wonder if she’d ever be the same again. Azriel would encourage her– she knew it wasn’t pity– but she couldn’t stand it all the same. She’d collapse onto the floor against her will during physical therapy, shoving Jarrah away with shame when he’d tried to help her up each time. Sometimes, she’d wake up in the dead of night, clammy, and nauseous from a nightmare that felt more and more real each time she had one. Azriel held her to his body whenever she’d jostle awake, heaving and shaking, stroking his warm hands up and down her arms. Other nights he held her hair back as she retched her dinner into the toilet, panting and crying silent tears. 

“To expect linearity is to set yourself up for failure,” Jarrah lectured during their very first session when all she wanted to do was get to the hard stuff, to prove that she was alright– that she was still whole. Jarrah did not mind her bad days, but something died within her every time she left training without making any notable progress– every time her body failed her when her mind seemed to be giving its all. 

From the moment they started their session this morning, Jarrah noted her body was fatigued and her mind was somewhere else. Oh dear.

“We can take a break–” 

“No!” She buckled down and held her position, determined to prove to herself that even on her worst days she could succeed. It was the most enthusiastic response Jarrah had gotten all session from her so he allowed it. He watched her body tremble from the strain, the sweat bead at her temples, the fatigue in her eyes as she fought the pain in her spine. 

Her body could not bear it anymore. She felt her traitorous legs give out beneath her and the ground came up faster than she could register, faster than Jarrah could react. A strangled cry crawled from her throat as she collapsed and her body trembled in a pain her mind could barely process. 

“Fuck,” a familiar voice rang out from the gym’s entrance and Azriel ran in. Just great. What was he even doing here? After the first training appointment in which Azriel could barely keep himself from choking out Jarrah and coddling her, he agreed to not interrupt her sessions thereafter. His disregard for their agreement made her feel so small. 

“Fuck,” Jarrah echoed. He was at her side in two steps, arms outstretched to help her up, but she scooted away as fast as her leadened arms would allow, turning her face away in shame. 

“Don’t touch me!” She croaked. 

Jarrah stopped himself by the time Azriel was at her side, crouching beside her and taking up what felt like all of the oxygen in her space. Breathe, she tried to remind herself but with Azriel hovering and Jarrah a foot away, both watching her crumpled pathetically on the mats, she couldn’t. 

“Are you alright?”

“Get her some water!”

“That’s enough for today, let’s get you some food.”

“... My love?”

Azriel’s soft voice pierced through her terrible thoughts. She felt his strong hands reach under her armpits to help her up but she pushed against his biceps, swatting him off in a desperate attempt to move away. But the pain made her so dizzy, it was difficult to create any real distance. 

“Don’t!” she cried out, for it was all she could do, and Azriel dropped his hands immediately. “I can get up on my own.”

Azriel didn’t move. Jarrah placed a comforting hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “We should give her some space.”

Azriel clenched his jaw but it didn’t stop the twitching of his upper lip. He stood abruptly, swiveling on his heels so his face was only mere inches from Jarrah’s, who’d since quickly retracted his hand to himself. To his credit, he kept his shoulders square, but even he wasn’t immune to the pure threat in the Shadowsinger’s glare. 

“My mate is in pain, she can’t even stand up, and you want to leave her like this?” He growled. 

Anger grappled her lungs, stealing whatever air she’d managed to collect. That was the problem. “I can stand up, Azriel. I’m not made of glass.” 

It took her a few minutes, but she did it. She first rotated her hips so she was on her hands and knees. With one foot underneath her, she pushed herself up, trembling, sighing, moaning as her body resisted the upward movement, but she finally stood. 

Azriel clenched his hands at his sides to anchor himself back, to resist from helping her. He knew she was capable of doing anything, that she didn’t really need him. Part of the reason he was so hesitant to pursue her all those years ago was because she was so independent that it intimidated him. Azriel wasn’t sure what he brought to the table, what he could do better that she already did for herself, how he would fit into the life she’d built for herself. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he would still do anything for her. It didn’t take away that primal need to protect her. He tried his best not to suffocate her but sometimes he couldn’t help his instincts when his love for her outweighed everything else.  

She allowed Azriel to link his arm with hers as she waved goodbye to Jarrah, silently apologizing for Azriel’s outburst. 

“Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?” His voice was soft as he led her out of the gym and to the townhouse’s sunlit sitting room. “You did so good today, love.”

“I’m not hungry.” Was all she replied. She couldn’t stomach anything after such a rubbish session. Fear that she would never be the same ever again set in, but nobody would understand. No one could even fathom what it would do to her if she couldn’t keep doing her job, going on these missions, protecting this city. If she was relegated to a desk for the rest of her life, she’d have lost everything she’s ever worked for.

“Sure you are. At least something small to keep the medicine down.” 

Madja had her on a cocktail of herbs and elixirs– something for the pain, something for the scars, probably something for how fucked her mind had become– she couldn’t keep track. Azriel kept track for her. She swallowed the pills and the bitters he gave her and allowed him to rub the salve into her scars before bed. Whatever. This was life now– being shoddily held together by some combination of antibiotics, gauze, and ointments. 

She shook her head in defiance and Azriel sighed, stopping her just before the doorway to the living room where the rest of their friends sat. She was so stubborn– if she didn’t want to do something, no one could get her to do it. It was a quality he admired but also a quality that drove him downright mad at times like this.

“What’s bothering you?” 

“You mean besides healing at a snail’s pace and sitting on my ass all day in this house while everyone else goes to work– fulfills some sort of purpose? I’m doing just great.” The smile did not reach her eyes. 

Azriel tilted his head as if to say No, really. I know there’s something else. He could read her like a damn book– it had always been that way. 

She hesitated for a moment before confessing, “I don’t know if I’ll be the same ever again.”

Azriel’s face softened at the anxiety that weighed on her shoulders so heavily they sagged. 

“Of course you will, love. It’s only a matter of time.”

“It’s been two months and I can’t even climb the stairs without needing a break. My body hurts by the time I go to bed. I can still feel my back– the scars–” the words caught in her throat and she quickly cut herself off before she choked on them, unable to talk too much about it without feeling her body and mind repulse. 

“Come here,” Azriel wrapped his strong arms around her frame and pulled her into his body so close their hearts beat in sync before each other as if in private conversation. “The physical training, the medicines, the therapist, you’ve got it all going on. No one here is working harder than you right now.”

“But what if it isn’t enough,” she mumbled into his chest, a single hot tear catching on the fabric of his sweater. She turned her face into his chest to wipe the tear away completely and Azriel’s heart broke for her. He wished he could reach into her chest and pull out the pain with his bare hands, fly with it to Ramiel and drop it at the peaks where it could never find its way back to her ever again. “You know better than anyone, you could do everything right and it still wouldn’t matter. I just need to get better. Be myself again.”

“I will love you no matter what happens. Even if you are never the same, I will still love you. This changes nothing.”

She pushed him away abruptly, hastily wiping away tears as if Azriel couldn’t see them. He didn’t get it. This wasn’t about him, about him loving her. This was her life. If she couldn’t get back to who she was, fill the roles she’d spent her whole life caring about, where would she stand among her family? Where would she stand in this life? In this world? 

“But it changes everything for me,” her eyebrows furrowed incredulously. “I want my body back, my mind back. Thanks for letting me know you’d still love me if I were to be this fucked up forever, but that’s literally the last thing on my mind right now, Azriel. I don’t want to be fucked up forever, I want to get better, and I need you to want that for me too.”

Azriel tried to find the right words, stuttering in his search to say the right thing. He didn’t mean it like that. He only ever wanted the best for her– would kill for her to have what’s best for her. “I-I didn’t mean–”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” She huffed, storming past him into the sitting room. Instant guilt flooded her as soon as she left him. Azriel helped however he could. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t put himself in her shoes in this very situation, but he’d gone through something traumatic too, and Azriel definitely knew a thing or two about helplessness. Still, she felt so alone. Azriel tried, but he wouldn’t understand what it was like to be a woman tortured in a camp full of males. What that took from her. She wouldn’t explain it. 

Azriel watched her storm off, feeling as if he was failing her all over again. Every night, he watched the dullness in her eyes grow as he handed her the medicines. When she laid down in their bed with practiced monotony so he could rub the salve into the scars stretched across her back, he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from crying. They were nasty things, raised and swollen with blood and she flinched every time he touched them, as if he were delivering the lashings all over again. She was hurting and he felt so helpless. He vowed to always protect her and take away her pains but he could do neither of those things and the thought of it ate him alive everyday. Only the Mother knew the true lengths he’d go to for her. That man would do anything. 

In the sitting room, Azriel brought her a sandwich that he put together in the kitchen. Nuala and Cerridwen insisted that would make it, but he politely refused. He wanted to be the one to do it. 

“Az, I told you I’m not hungry,” She murmured as he handed her the plate. 

“You need to eat something if you want to keep the medicines down,” He reasoned again. 

“I know what Madja said, I was there,” She snarked, crossing her arms. She was so tired of people telling her what to do. Jarrah telling her what exercises to do, Madja telling her what medicines to take, Rhys telling her that she shouldn’t try to work again so soon, Feyre telling her she should take more walks, Cassian telling her to drink less wine, Azriel forcing her to eat more food. 

“Okay, darling,” He placed the plate on the table when she wouldn’t take it from him. 

“Turkey and swiss, okay!” Cassian peeked at the sandwich, nudging her arm. “And he cut it in half too.”

“Just the way she likes it. In half though, not diagonal– too much crust in one bite if it's cut diagonal,” Azriel smiled from where he sat across the table from them. She could have cried at the sight of him, at the love in his eyes, in his voice. Words were never his strong suit but Azriel more than made up for it in acts of service. This was how he showed his love. This was him reaching his hand out, begging for her to take it, to let him in. To let him help. 

And she didn’t know why she had such a hard time letting him in. She didn’t want to seem incapable of anything, and letting herself fall apart the way Azriel would allow her to terrified her. She’d never fallen apart before. She didn’t know how she could do it without completely tearing herself and every past wound open again. It broke her heart to watch his smile falter when she didn’t reach for the plate. 

“I’m going to bed,” she stood up as quickly as her body would allow and left the room. It was too much. Azriel’s disappointment, everyone’s expectations, watching her, studying her, readying themselves to be there for her if she did explode. She never needed this much attention in the past– to receive so much of it all of a sudden made her feel like she was made of porcelain and everyone was expecting her to shatter at any moment. She could hardly breathe in that room and needed to get out before something within her cracked further. 

The stairs loomed before her, mocking with how many there were. Grabbing the bannister until her knuckles paled, she hoisted herself up one step at a time, maneuvering her body so that her entire weight wouldn’t be on one leg for too long. 

Nesta appeared behind her, climbing the steps she’d taken over the course of minutes in just mere seconds, with a stack of books in one arm and a handful of her gown in the other. Nesta stopped a couple steps ahead, turning around and looking down at her through long eyelashes. 

“Well this is pathetic,” Nesta snorted. 

“Fuck off,” she meant to sneer, but it came out in a breathless huff instead. Pathetic indeed.

 Nesta let her skirts fall from her right arm as she extended it toward her. 

“I don’t need your help.”

“You definitely do.”

“Don’t you have those smutty little novels to get back to?”

“Shut the fuck up and take my arm, or bust your ass on these stairs, I don’t care.” 

Begrudgingly, she took Nesta’s arm. Neither of them spoke, but Nesta patiently guided her up the stairs, supporting her where she needed it. Out of the entire Inner Circle, she got along the most with Nesta. Their conversations usually followed a very similar pattern as this one did, but only because they each saw a little piece of themselves in the other, even if they never mentioned it. 

“Heard you being a bitch downstairs,” Nesta finally spoke when they cleared the last stair and stood at the landing so she could catch her breath. 

She couldn’t find it within herself to take offense. “I love him more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. I don’t know why I do this,” she confessed. She didn’t need to explain further. Nesta automatically understood. When they locked eyes, that silent comprehension flowed between them again and for the first time since arriving back home from the war camp, she felt relief. The kind of relief that made your heart beat out of your chest and go a little dizzy. The kind of relief that came from being completely understood without having to spend the energy trying to put the thoughts and feelings into comprehensible words. 

“I know. It’s not your fault.” The words fell softly from Nesta’s lips. It was the last thing she said before she led her to the library. They sat in arm chairs across the fireplace and read for hours in each others’ company. No one came looking for her. No one tried to force a plate of food down her throat. No one wanted her to do those stupid mobility stretches. Nobody was asking her if she was okay. It was everything she needed. So why did she still feel restless, like something was missing?

Azriel.

She left the library after she’d calmed down. In the quiet, amongst the books, when she thought that was all she needed, she felt misery instead. She needed Azriel. She wanted to lay in bed with him forever, feel his skin on hers forever, stay in his warmth forever, feel their heartbeats sing side by side forever. Azriel forever. Nothing else would compare. 

When she reached their room, it was empty. Disappointment flooded her chest, but she knew Azriel was giving her space. As she moved closer to the bed, she found a new plate of food waiting beside a note. A remade sandwich, cut down the middle as always. 

Your favorite. Was all the note said. 

Indeed it was. She polished off the sandwich in a matter of minutes, as ravenous as she was. Actually, she was hungry when Azriel first offered one to her in the sitting room, but she was too stubborn to take it then. 

The bath towel beside the note on the bed was warm to the touch. From the soft sound of trickling water in the bathing room, she knew he’d run her a bath. The air above the tub smelled of sandalwood– his scent. As she stripped off her clothes and lowered herself into the warm water, the scent encompassed her as if he was in the room with her right then, waiting to join her. 

Surely, an hour or two must have passed. Her eyes pried open, the water and soap around her body in the tub still warm and feathery like a winter duvet. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, only that it was the best sleep she’d gotten these past two months. For the first time since coming home, she slept with no nightmares and no nausea to rouse her from rest. She didn’t even dream. She simply passed out.

When she finally left the bathroom, her body wrapped in the towel he’d warmed for her, she found Azriel sitting on the bed with a book nestled in his large hands. As she stepped through the doorway of the bathing room, he looked up, smiling softly. Pure love shone in his eyes like a beacon, flashing and blinking in the darkness that war camp left her in. 

At the sight of his soft smile, the gentleness of his features, the relaxed sag of his shoulders, she felt something break. 

Sensing a shift in her demeanor, he lowered the book, eyebrows knitting together. 

"What's wrong?"

Those two damned words. She bit the inside of her cheek, walking weakly to Azriel's side of the bed. He placed his book on the nightstand and sat up straighter, anticipating her next move. 

She climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and laid her upper body against his torso, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Her arms wrapped around his body tightly, breathing him in like he was the oxygen she lived off of. Anything else, anything that was not Azriel, and she could just die right there. 

He brought his arms around her tightly, heart sinking when he felt her hot tears on his neck. She did not shake. She did not sob. He only felt the wetness on his skin and the erratic heaving of her chest against his as she fought to regulate her breathing.

He did not say anything else. He held her, unmoving except to rub her back or run his hand over the back of her head, smoothing her hair. His other hand held the back of one of her thighs to keep her in place as she grew increasingly limp in his arms. 

"I've been such a wretch." Her voice was heavy and filled with sorrow. "I've been such a wretch to you. I'm sorry Az."

"Oh my love," He held her as close as he could, willing her to feel the love he held for her in his chest. His love for her ran everywhere his blood did, from his toes to the top of his head, every day and every second, his astonishment of her coursed his body like an electrical current keeping him alive. Without her,  there was no pulse. 

"How do you put up with me?" He felt her wipe her nose on his shoulder and he couldn't help the smile on his lips.

"Because I love you, and I know your anger has nothing to do with me."

"But you should not have to put up with it."

"I will put up with anything when it comes to you. You don’t ever have to worry about that when it’s you and I,” He pulled her back so he could look into her eyes. “You went through something horrible. You’re going to need time to work through it all, but I will be here for every moment of it. I’m sorry if I’ve been suffocating you, darling. I only do it because I can’t help it. When I see you hurting I wish I could take all of it from you and put it in me.”

“I never want you to hurt,” she told him earnestly. The thought of him going through what she did filled her with rage so sudden and consuming she couldn’t begin to imagine what Azriel felt when they finally found her at the camp. 

“I could never when I have you looking out for me,” He smiled that cheeky, boyish smile that came out so rarely. 

“I’ve just been having so many bad days. I should be happy that I’m back home, that I’m safe now. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, and it comes out at the wrong times in the wrong ways. But I don’t know what I’d do without you, Az.” 

“Even on your worst days, you’re the best of us. So do your worst. I can handle it." 

The disbelief in her eyes melted away when he cradled her head, smiling earnestly– and gods, she wished she could commission Feyre to paint him like this– a man smitten. With all the tonics and creams Madja had forced on her, she had a sneaking suspicion that none of them would truly heal her. They helped the symptoms, but never the cause. She’d accepted that it would take a damn miracle to heal the cause. And here Azriel was, pleading and lovely, looking like her damn miracle. 

She let him undo the towel from around her body and lay her into the soft covers, warm from where he sat while she was in the bath. Turning over, Azriel smoothed the salve over her scars as he did every night. But for the first time in months, she finally replied to his attempts at starting conversation as he worked. For the first time in months, she laughed genuine laughs that felt only slightly foreign– much like old friends– in her throat. For the first time in months, as he tenderly slicked Madja’s balm over her scars, praying to the Mother for her health over each one he touched, she did not flinch. 

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[pombeom]

deal? | beomgyu fic (nsfw)

nsfw content below! mdni!

this is my first ever smut fic so please don’t judge and let me know if there’s anything that needs improving! i’ve only ever written fluff before so i definitely need some practice but i hope you still to enjoy it!

warnings: dom!gyu x switch?reader, smut, fingering, blowjob, handjob, living room sex, best friends to lovers, teasing, nipple play?, dirty talk?, unprotected sex (DON’T), fluffy ending, (am i forgetting something?)

The spitting of the rain echoed through your apartment. Despite the weather this week consisting of warm, luscious sun, today the skies had different plans for both you and your best friend Beomgyu. You had planned on taking a trip to the beach and invited him over to join you on your endeavours to which Beomgyu was very much happy to tag along. The sudden shift in the weather, however, obstructed your journey and as a result you’re both sitting on the couch of your apartment scrolling through Netflix picking something to watch.

“How have you never watched Gossip Girl! Are you even from this planet?”  

“Just because I have different tastes doesn’t mean I’m an alien,” Beomgyu shrugged, rolling his eyes.  

“No but seriously. You’re missing out big time Beom.”  

“Alright if you say so…If you really love it that much why don’t you put it on?”

“Seriously?? You’re letting me put in a show that I wanna watch…with no form of bribery?”  

“Well I didn’t say that did I. Everything comes with a price angel.” 

“What is it this time?” 

“Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough,” his smirk was enough to tell you that he had something planned. Something so devious that it might end up with you staying home all week from embarrassment. Your mind flashed back to the time he made you flash your tits at one of your elderly neighbours and you could do nothing but just feel the burn on your face and hear his laugh from behind you. The relationship between you and your neighbour was never the same again even after the cookies you baked her as an apology gift. Obviously, you didn’t want to trust him again this time. 

“Just promise me that it won’t involve my poor old neighbour again. I don’t think she could handle seeing my tits again,” you whined hoping that he’d pity you for last time’s ordeal.

“I promise angel. This time it’d be only you and me.” 

And for some reason, you had a feeling that this time wouldn’t be any better than the last. In fact it’d probably be worst… 

You shoved your doubts to the back of your mind and pressed play on the remote, starting Episode 1 of Gossip Girl as agreed upon by the both of you. 

As the episode progressed, you felt Beomgyu shift closer to you. Whilst it was normal for him to be clingy, the aura in the atmosphere was tenser than usual. Even though his eyes were glued on the screen observing the drama unfolding, you could sense that his mind was elsewhere. Every so often you felt a stare lasering the side of your face and your cheeks burnt up as a physical reaction of your nervousness. You felt a sharp tingle land on your bare thigh and instantly you regretted wearing your itty bitty surfer shorts. Soon enough Beomgyu’s entire hand was squeezing your thighs, kneeling them between his slim, long fingers. Your mind ran through thoughts which were criminally outrageous for your liking but you couldn’t help but wonder how his fingers would feel in between your legs, collecting the pool of slick that had now formed. 

And slowly but surely, his hands crept up closer and closer to your heat, barely scratching the fabric of your shorts and with the sudden contact, you let out a suppressed whimper. You finally turn your head to see Beomgyu smirking at your reaction, pride glimmering in his eyes. He continued to press against your pussy from outside your shorts gaining more sounds from you and subconsciously your hips started grinding against his palm. 

“Are you that desperate angel?”

“Beom, please,” you mumble.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” 

“Please strip me and put those damn fingers in-“ 

Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt your shorts and underwear being ripped off and your pussy trembles in the contact of the cold surrounding air. He rubs your entrance gathering the slick and circles your clit sending sharp shivers up your spine. He picks up the pace and suddenly launches two fingers into your hole, pumping it in and it at the same speed. 

“Beom, pl- please go fast… faster” 

“Aww look at my angel stuttering. Are my fingers really doing that much to you?” 

He quickens his pace going at an absurdly high rate making your collapse under his control. You were a moaning mess and your every cry was music to his ears. Your pussy clenches around his fingers and just as you were about to cum, he removes his fingers crashing you down from your almost high making you cry from pain and the urge for release. 

“You’ll get your chance angel. But now I want you to please me. You think you can do that baby?” 

You nod your head and slip onto the floor of the living room, positioning yourself in between Beomgyu’s legs which were spread wide open. You put down his joggers with his underwear, revealing his thick, hard cock which stand erect. He holds up his hoodie so you can grab onto his dick and you start by rubbing the base of his shaft, slowly making your way up to the pink tip. You bring your mouth closer to his cock and tease it by swirling your tongue around it. Beomgyu, being impatient, grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoves his cock into your throat taking you by surprise. 

“I told you to please me, not tease me angel. Now suck.” 

You follow his order and hollow your mouth feeling his fat cock deep in your throat.  He takes control and fucks your mouth by rapidly pumping his suck into your mouth at a monstrous pace causing a pool of tears to well up in your eyes. 

“You’re taking me so well angel. Can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.” 

Your moans mixed with his grunts and whines echo through the room, replacing the sound of the rain and the TV. You feel his cock twitch and he pulls out taking away his own orgasm. You knew what was coming next and you were ready in every way. He picks you up from the ground and bends your over the arm of the sofa and positions himself behind you. He slaps his dick against your heat causing you to hitch your breath. Beomgyu places the tip in your slit and slams into your core, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. He continued to pound your pussy, not letting you adjust to his girthy size. 

“Beom, it- it’s too big! Slow…slow down!” your words came out slewed. 

“You can take it angel. Take my fat cock in your pretty pussy.”  

He abused your hole repeatedly as his hand clenched around your waist whilst the other made its way under your baggy t-shirt and straight to your naked tits. You knew you should have worn a bra before he arrived. 

He pinched your nipples sending shock waves straight to your brain, numbing every sense in your body apart from his touch, heightening every feeling he causes. Your pussy clenches again around his dick which only encourages him to move even faster.

“You’re clenching so hard right now angel. I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“Ahh!” You screamed pleasure overflowing in your body. “I’m gonna cum too Beom.” 

“Cum with me then angel. On the count of three.” 

“3, 2, —“

Before he could get to 1, both of you crash as Beomgyu rides you through your post-orgasmic release. Your body is shaking under his, while he holds you from collapsing into the wooden floor. 

“Beom- Beomgyu, that was so good.” 

“Yeah? Well you were great angel. Your pussy was made for my dick.” 

Your face turns red upon hearing his dirty compliment but your couldn’t help but agree at how well he fit in you. 

“I have something to tell you,” Beomgyu begins. 

“Go on,” you say now slouching back on the sofa whilst he wraps his arms around you. 

“I’ve liked you for a really long time now and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of holding you like this. So as a part of our deal, am I allowed to ask you if you would let me be your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes widen at his confession and although you expected it after your little escapade together just moments ago, you felt a sense of shock but you were also pleasantly surprised. 

“Beom, you know that you’re my bestest friend in the world. And if I’m being honest, I’ve never thought of you as more than that,” you pause, gaging his reaction. He’s still maintaining eye contact but the hope in his eyes have disappeared which you chuckle at finding it amusing. 

“I’ve never thought of you as more than a friend. But ever since the moment you stepped in my apartment today, something felt different between us. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it until now but it’s taken me this long to realise the way I really feel about you. I also like you Choi Beomgyu and not just because you’ve given me the best fuck of my life but also because you light up my world. You’re so stupid sometimes because who would ever think of flashing an old lady like that but that’s what I love the most about you. So to answer your question, I would be honoured to have you as my boyfriend, only if you’d let me be your girlfriend.” 

His response came in the form of plunging into your lips, exchanging years worth of feelings and passion. 

He pushes his tongue in and before you have time to react, he picks you up bridal style and carries you over to your bedroom. 

“Beom, what are you doing?” You ask pulling away from the kiss.

“You up for round 2, angel?” 

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 7 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

a/n: a little look at how alexia and ona are doing. big thank you to @codiemarin for help with the plot!! she’s a lifesaver x

------

At training the next day, Ona refused to look at Alexia. Her stomach churned whenever she heard the woman’s voice, and the guilt she felt about what had happened burned at the back of her throat. 

Alexia understood her behaviour, but she couldn’t help but feel frustrated - after all, Ona was the one who had stormed in yesterday, all confused about her feelings. Alexia was well aware of her own feelings, she had been for a long time. She’d made peace with her feelings towards Ona before you’d even joined Barcelona, and then she’d made peace with her feelings towards you after you had. She had recognised the feelings, labelled them as silly little crushes that would never amount to anything, had put them in a box, never to be thought of again, and that was that.

At least, that had been that, until yesterday. Until Ona had come barrelling into the changing room, face flushed, an adorable, slightly confused scowl on her face, and had yelled at the captain. Now, the yelling part wouldn’t have phased her, but the bit that followed?

The way Ona had reached up and pulled her into a kiss had been playing in her mind on repeat, making Alexia feel weak at the knees. The way Ona’s lips felt against hers, angry and harsh but so, so soft, the way it had felt so right to finally kiss her, after waiting for so long. 

When Ona had said it was a mistake, it couldn’t happen again, Alexia tried her hardest to ignore the way it felt like she was being stabbed, like her lungs were collapsing, like Ona had been her only source of oxygen. She had nodded, telling Ona that it would be okay, that you would be okay, that they would figure it out. She was the captain of the team, for fuck’s sake. She was better than this. She could handle this. 

And as captain of the team, Alexia knew that having one of her players ignoring her wasn’t good for the team, regardless of what had happened between those players. So she did what any good captain would do, and messaged Ona. 

[Alexia:] We need to talk about yesterday.

[Ona:] What’s there to talk about? I thought we were pretending it didn’t happen.

[Alexia:] Clearly not, since you wouldn’t even look at me today. Can we please talk about it?

[Ona:] Fine. Tomorrow? I can come early again. 

---

Alexia’s leg bounced anxiously as she waited in the empty changing room. Ona had said she’d be there early, but Alexia wasn’t sure how early she meant, so she’d arrived 45 minutes before the others would start to arrive. After a few minutes of waiting, the door opened softly, a stark contrast to the way Ona had entered just a couple days before. 

“Hi,” Ona said, still not meeting Alexia’s gaze. “You wanted to talk?”

“Will you at least come in and sit down?” Alexia asked. “I won’t bite.”

Pink rose to the brunette’s cheeks, and she nodded and sat down. 

“Are you going to look at me today? Or are you going to keep ignoring me?” 

Alexia’s voice had an edge to it, the way it did when she was speaking as captain rather than as another player or as a friend. Ona looked up, staring Alexia in the eyes. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Ona asked, her voice measured. 

A million questions raced through the captain’s head and she grasped on to the first one that came to mind. “How are you feeling?”

Ona let out a short laugh of disbelief. “How am I feeling? Really? You asked me to meet so that we could talk about how I’m feeling?”

Alexia frowned. “Si. A lot has happened lately and I care about you, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Ale…,” Ona sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m feeling like a mess. I feel awful and guilty and like the worst person ever for what I’ve done to Y/N, and I feel mixed up and confused about you, okay?”

“Oh,” Alexia said. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts and feelings that she hadn’t considered how Ona would be feeling about her, how what had happened would be affecting her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. Can I ask why you feel mixed up and confused about me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t- I don’t understand how I feel, I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I like you, but I’m not allowed to like you, I’m not meant to like you, I like Y/N- no, I love her, so I cannot like you!” Ona said, the words bursting out of her. She hadn’t realised how confused she was until she said it out loud. “And all I keep thinking about is that I want to kiss you and kiss Y/N and it’s not fair, but that’s just not how it works.”

Alexia leant back against the wall, heart aching. “No, I guess that’s not how it works. We can’t all be together. And you and Y/N were together first, so that’s that.”

“Exactly,” the brunette nodded. “That’s that. So please let me keep ignoring you for just a few days, until I’ve sorted out my feelings? That’s all I’m asking.”

“Yes, I- I’m sorry,” Alexia blushed. She felt foolish for not considering Ona’s feelings, for assuming she was the only one who was confused. “I’m sorry. Thank you for coming in and talking to me.”

“I’m going to go now, okay? I’ll see you in training, Ale,” Ona said. She suddenly felt exhausted, like she’d just played a full 90 minutes, but without the exhilaration that usually accompanied it. She just wanted to be alone for a while, to not have to answer to anyone.

She left without waiting for a reply from Alexia and headed straight into the gym, making a beeline for the treadmills. No matter how tired she was, running always helped her think, helped her clear her mind. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Alexia and about you, so with a frustrated groan she decided to try and think of solutions instead.

And that’s when it hit her.

The night before, when she’d been at yours, you had mentioned Alexia. She froze when you said the captain’s name, terrified that somehow you knew what had happened, that you knew about them, and had been so focused on acting normally that she’d only half listened to what you were saying. Now though, it was coming back to her.

“So, uh, did you know that a lot of people think me and Ale are dating?” you’d said, off-handedly, like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t a big deal, you knew that. 

“Hm?” Ona had responded, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I saw some stuff online yesterday when I was looking myself up. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah, crazy.”

“I mean, she is super pretty, and obviously very very good at football - oh, actually, I found a journal entry I wrote when I first moved,” you casually interrupted yourself, as if you hadn’t been thinking about what to say and how to say it for hours before Ona had arrived. “And the two people I wrote about were you and Ale! It’s kind of funny, it seems like I had a crush on both of you, at the start?”

You’d held your breath, waiting for Ona’s reaction. You weren’t sure what you were hoping for, all you knew was that you couldn’t stop thinking about either of them. Maybe you just wanted to know if that was the kind of person you were, and maybe Ona would know.

Ona had glanced at you, cheeks faintly pink. “Really?”

“Yeah, I guess? I don’t know, did you ever notice anything that made you think I had a crush on her - or on you?” you asked, saying the last part in one quick breath. 

“I’m not sure,” she’d shrugged. “I don’t really remember.”

“Oh, okay,” you’d said, trying not to let her notice the disappointment you were feeling. 

Your words hit Ona like a brick wall, and she almost tripped over her own feet, momentarily forgetting where she was. She quickly turned the treadmill off and picked up her phone, starting to type out a message to Alexia.

[Ona:] What if we could all be together? What if there was a way to make it work?

Her finger hovered over the send button. Somewhere, a door slammed as her teammates started to arrive, making her jump. When she looked back down at her phone, the message had been sent.

[Alexia:] is typing…

[Alexia:] is typing…

[Alexia:] is typing…

[Alexia:] How?

[monster-mash-m]

Chubby!Slime!Gf x Afab!Fem!Reader

MDNI!

Cw: Very wlw, slight possessiveness on her end, reader is a service top, reader is a simp for her gf(as she should be), slight d/s dynamics, dom!reader, slight sadomasochism.

Definitely not self indulgent at all.

This slime girl has a name! Wowzers! Her name is Melma (definitely not slime in Italian- I gotta use my half Italian side to good use 😭-)

Once again lemme know if I missed any!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

You wait by the door for your girlfriend, since you were both going on a cute cafe date! Melma, the pretty girl she was took her time getting ready every time you went out and like the loving girlfriend you were, you waited patiently. Finally she made her way through the living room and to the front door. Her cute chubby thighs pooling out of her thigh highs quite literally. Her cropped top clinging to her curves, gods you just wanted to hold her cute tummy and give it a soft squeeze. She smiled softly at you “what do you think baby?” She asked spinning around excitedly before pulling a pose.

You let out a low whistle as you look her up and down “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You hum. She smile widens and something akin to a blush appears on her cheeks “Awh stop it you sap.” She playfully rolled her eyes and took your hand. “Let’s get going my pretty human.” As you held hands hers slightly stuck to yours, like it normally does.

You both walk towards the cafe, telling eachother small anecdotes and stories of your days at work or some hijinks you got up to. This cafe was your favorite, since it was her favorite, she loved how cute and quaint it was, and you loved seeing her happy. Plus the cakes here were quite good.

She skips happily next to you, energetic. You look at her adoringly as the sun shines slightly through her, illuminating her pretty lime skin(?). You finally both make it to the cafe and open the door for her. She chirps out a thanks and makes her way to her usual spot as you go to order your usual order for the two of you. Hm, a new person was working today, they seemed nice. They struck up conversation quite easily, that was for certain.

The person working gave you an inviting smile and took your order, although it felt like a pair of eyes were burning into you. You thank the worker for making your order as you take it over to the table Melma is sat at. She had quite a sour expression with her arms crossed “They seemed friendly.” Her tone was bitter. You immediately caught in and smirked “they were, weren’t they?”

She huffed and just took her drink, sipping it. You sighed and gave her a look of ‘really?’ She only glared at you in response. “Baby don’t start acting like a brat.” You say rather abruptly knowing it would make her flustered, and indeed it did. Making her choke on her drink and cover her face with a hand “what’s wrong with you- I’m not a brat!” She says defensively. You can only tut and shake your head, “no?” She nods defiantly.

You trail your foot up her leg slowly under the table with a Cheshire grin, making her shiver and look away “now you’re just being mean…” she pouts looking away “oh you wanna see mean, pretty?” She freezes but slowly looks at you with a challenging look. “Do your worst…”

When you get home Melma basically drags you to the bedroom and throws herself on the bed dramatically “Oh I’m soooo scared.” You simply just roll your eyes with a grin. “Strip baby.” You say simply and walk over to one of your drawers and pull out some fluffy pink handcuffs. When you turn around, there she was. Naked and sat on the bed looking up at you with big eyes. You stroll over to her softly and lift her face up by her chin gently “What’s our safe word today?” You ask softly. She pouts “baby stoppppp I won’t need it-“ “Safe word.” You say rather sternly “I don’t knowww, Muffin.” She rolls her eyes playfully. You nod satisfied and sat down patting your lap. “Bend over my lap baby.”

She didn’t disobey or anything but she did make a whole song and dance of resting across your lap. You hun in satisfaction as you run your hands over her jelly like ass. “Fuck baby, I would honestly take a bite out of you if I could…” you groan softly before smacking her ass harshly without warning, making her moan out and grip the sheets. Her ass juggling and slightly bubbling up. “You can’t hit harder than that…” she bit her lip as she antagonized you. Oh she was in for a long night.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Definitely making a part 2 for this

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Smut blurbs yaaaas. We gotta talk about Steve trying out a new position for the first time. Like, I feel like the first time he went from standard missionary or backseat car sex to having you there before him face down in the pillows he had a revelation.

18+

“Steve,” you groaned, his name nothing more than a filthy rasp as you clutched at his shoulders, his waist, claw marks left from the way your nails scraped against his skin. “Fuck, babe— baby, deeper, please.”

The boy huffed out a laugh and a gasp, lifting his head from your neck to push himself onto his hands, hovering over you, grinning. The chain he’d put on for meeting his parents for dinner - suit and tie a creased heap on the floor - caught your lip, pout brushing over warm gold.

“Shit, honey, I don’t think I can get any deeper,” Steve smiled, one wide hand spanning over your thigh, keeping it against his chest, your leg sling over his shoulder. He throbbed inside of you, cock big and hard enough that it was nudging the space under your belly button. “You want more?”

You nodded, whining, needy about it. You did want more, you did. But Steve had come to yours after a half eaten dinner and an argument with his mother over the white cloth covered table, shoved at his dad in the parking lot before he could finish his main meal. He was rippling with unspent energy, something he couldn’t talk out, couldn’t let settle until he did something about it.

So you’d stripped him off his suit jacket, slid his tie away from his neck and kissed him until he was panting. You told him to be rough about it, but down on his neck and his bottom lip to punctuate your point and Steve had laughed, breathless, amazed, before he’d thrown you over his shoulder and made his way to your bed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes wide and doe like, begging. “Want more, please, babe. Wanna feel you in the morning.”

You grinned when Steve’s lashes fluttered, eyes rolling and jaw slack when he moaned. He slid out of you, making you both hiss and whine at the loss, but he gave you a soft slap to your ass in return.

“Get on your knees, baby, yeah? Wanna try somethin’.”

You burned, chest flushed, heat rising to your face, ‘cause you hadn’t tried this with Steve yet. Still early enough in your relationship with the boy that you craved face to face contact with him, chests pressed together and legs wrapped around his waist, able to kiss him whenever you wanted. But you did as you were told, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you scrambled to your knees and turned around.

“There you go, fuck,” Steve groaned appreciatively. “That’s it honey, bend over for me, yeah? Little more, be good.”

You obeyed, tits pressed to the mattress as you dipped your back, ass up and waiting. You squirmed under Steve’s gaze, a stare hotter and heavier than an Indiana summer.

“Fu-ucking Christ,” Steve rasped out, his voice shot. He whispered your name, hands grabbing at the soft dough of your ass, handfuls of it so he could spread your cheeks, cunt put on show for him. “I’m gonna lose it just lookin’ at you, baby, shit.”

You laughed into his pillow, everything smelling like the boy, his cologne, his laundry detergent, his shampoo and your perfume. You wiggled in his grasp, heard the shlick as he pumped himself once, twice, before lining himself back up with your entrance and sliding back in.

You both swore, gasping, chests heaving as you tried to gain a little control over yourselves. Steve’s grip moved to your hips, fingers splayed wide over your skin and you knew you’d feel his touch there long after he let go. His cock throbbed inside of you, suddenly closer to the edge than before and he chuckled, almost laughing at himself.

“I dunno if this was the best idea or the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he told you, and his voice was hoarse, dirty, low. It made you clench around him and you got a swift slap to your ass in retaliation. “Baby, be good, c’mon.”

You didn’t listen. Instead, you pushed yourself back, ass slamming into the cradle of the boy’s hips, the hard length of him kicking up inside of you in response. He cried out, a pretty, dirty noise and it made you moan back.

“Steve.”

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.”

You grinned into the sheets, hands fisting them, legs spreading when Steve hooked a hand around one thigh and coaxed it wider. You felt so fucking full, wet and tight and warm around Steve’s cock and the boy wasn’t sure he was able to handle it.

“C’mon, Stevie, move,” you encouraged him with another wiggle, hiccuping over a sigh when he pulsed inside of you. You could feel him in your fucking stomach. “Want you to fuck me.”

Steve swore, hands running soft over your skin, fingers creating a sweet trail over your spine, up and down and back again. His hands curled around the nape of your neck, squeezing just slightly. You groaned for him.

“Yeah?” He asked, sliding out of you until only the tip teased your entrance. “Gonna take it? Like my good girl?”

You nodded, panting, cheek pushed to the sheets as you tried your best to look back at him, all wide eyed and flushed cheeks, lips still kiss swollen and reddened. Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen anything prettier than the sight before him and he was losing his goddamn mind.

“You asked for it, baby,” he reminded you softly, hands palming at your hips once more before he slammed back into you, giving it to you exactly the way you’d wanted.

…

[holidayinhell]

Interview

CWs: references to noncon, violence

1. Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

R: Rope.

W: Chains, dear god, chains any day. Ropes fucking burn.

2. If Whumpee had multiple Whumpers, who is their favourite? For Whumpers, which Whumpee was your favourite?

R: Yeah, I’ve got a favorite. A couple years back I had a Whumpee who fought me at every turn. He'd throw his food at me, cuss me out, and try to attack me. One time he scratched absolute shit outta my arms. Anyways, I got tired of his shitty attitude and decided to kill him. I didn't keep it a secret, I told him he was gonna die. But when I went in to do it, he changed completely. No more screaming, no spark in his eye. He got quiet. Heh, he got all lovey dovey with me even. You know, lots of people say they’ll do anything if only you’ll spare their life. I never did cash in on that promise, but on this Whumpee, I put it to the fucking test. Heh. He let me do whatever I wanted to him. Depraved, horrible things, that would make the most degenerate man blush. Heh, and even though he was crying through most of it, he still pretended to like everything I did to him. And god. You should’ve seen his eyes when I told him I was still gonna kill him. That look. I think about it still.

W: I can’t. glances over at Whumper. Next question please.

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

R: Humans are fickle fucking beasts. You have to break down someone’s pride in order to train them. I start off with food deprivation, that usually helps me gauge what kind of fight I’m in for.

W: Positive reinforcement has always worked for me… I’ve only ever had a pet bearded dragon though.

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound? 

R: Both.

W: These questions are uncomfortable to answer. But, uh, bullet wound I guess. Assuming it didn’t graze any organs.

5: Preferred type of gag? 

R: I like a fabric gag. Or a simple piece of duct tape. Sometimes they come off and I get to squeeze a little scream out of Whumpee, and then I put a fresh one right back on. I kinda like the cycle of it.

W: I don’t have a preference… none? I guess the metal bit one isn't the worst of them. It hurts my teeth but at least I can still kinda breathe.

6: Burned or stabbed?

R: Stabbed.

W: Stabbed, I guess?

7: Favourite stress position? 

R: An old-fashioned hogtie. I guess I’m unimaginative but I don’t get too crazy into the BDSM shit. Who has the patience for that?

W: Uhh.. just, handcuffs behind my back. Something relatively comfortable.

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

R: Heh. No. Never been branded. I certainly have had my fun branding Whumpee though.

W: I… have two… Uhm. One on my chest that, thank Christ, is almost all the way healed. It said, uh, swine. The other one is on my back, it’s a lot worse. I don’t know what it says but I can feel it so it’s um, it’s here to stay, I guess.

R: It says Nice Try. Remember?

W: Not really.

R: From your second half-hearted escape attempt. Didn't realize you forgot. But I did hit you pretty fucking hard that night.

9: Broken arm or broken leg? 

R: Leg.

W: Arm. A million times, arm.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

R: I live here. Far as I know, I’ve always been 'like this'-- whatever the hell that means. And I don’t see a problem with it. We’re all free to do as we like, so that’s what I fucking do.

W: I dunno. I, I was outside, it was dark and I think it was raining…yeah… heading home from the bar. I didn’t drink that much. I didn’t live that far, either, so the rain wasn’t a problem. I remember falling down and then… I woke up here. And I’ve been here ever since.

11: What is your biggest regret?

R: I wish this Whumpee could’ve learned a thing or two from my defiant Whumpee in the second question you asked. I wanna get my dick sucked like that every fucking night.

W: Regrets... yeah, I've got a few. One stands out. It was late at night, Whumper didn't tie me up. I snuck out of my cell and I made it to the steps. Almost to the top, nearly all the way out. The door was unlocked and cracked open a little, I thought I could make a run for it and—

R: —I was waiting for you at the top. Heh. I wanted to see if you'd run, and you sure tried to. Not so much after that, though.

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For Whumpee, what do you most fear Whumper might do?

R: A line I wouldn’t cross? Uhhh…. No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll cross any fucking line. turns to Whumpee, grinning. So what are you afraid of, Whumpee?

W: I, um. Does he really have to be here when I answer these questions?

R: Tell them, Whumpee.

W: Can I whisper it to you? (he’s already done so much to me, so fucking much… it’s dumb but I don’t want him to shave my head.)

R: smirks. You know I heard that.

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

R: Everything has been the same old, same old for me. Guess this Whumpee’s lasted longer than the rest of ‘em. He’s coming up on a year soon. Kind of impressive he’s stuck around this long and hasn’t given me a reason to kill him yet.

W: I don’t know. I do what I’m told so I can eat. I take it day by day. I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that abandoning pride is the only way to survive…

14: Whip or cane?

R: Whip.

W: Yeah. Whip.

R: Didn’t expect you to say that. Noted.

15: Drugged or coherent?

R: Depends on the situation. Drugging them is useful for transport but I don’t much like it when they’re too dazed to understand what’s happening. Sometimes they fall asleep, too.

W: Drug me any fucking day. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you have.

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

R: Sometimes I like to touch him. He’s warm and it’s funny when he tries to squirm away. Plus I like it when he begs me to stop. But do I care about him? …eh. Sure, sorta. He’s my plaything.

W: Erm. Thanks, I guess. For me… Whumper is the reason I’m here. I guess I’m appreciative for the food… but he does hurt me. A lot. Constantly.

R: You're very welcome.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

R: He’s got pretty hair. A kind of pretty face, too. Yeah, almost like a girl. Heh. And he makes good sounds when he’s screaming.

W: Ah. Fuck. I really don’t know how to answer this…

R: Come on. What’s your favorite part?

W: Um. Well, I'll say this: Whumper is smart. Scary smart. I don’t think anyone would ever imagine how smart. I don’t know. I don’t. It’s… terrifying.

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about Whumpee? Do they care?

R: Yes, yes, and no.

W: I have a half sister in, uh, Arkansas. We’re not close, obviously… used to have friends I guess, but it’s been a long time since I saw them…

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

R: Video games. 

W: I used to play saxophone. A lifetime ago.

20: For Whumper, is there any chance you’ll let Whumpee go? For Whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

R: No. Sorry. Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to ‘let him go.’

W: I, uh, I used to think about it. I don't anymore… like he said.. realistically it doesn’t make any sense.

R: Mm. Good answer, Whumpee.

------------------------

this interview uses the questions from Character Ask Game post by @inhurtandincomfort !! thanks homie!

((more Whump))

[loveliestlovelygirl]

an affair of the heart

boss!anakin x secretary!reader

synopsis: after months and months of mutual pining, your boss, anakin skywalker finally makes a move on you, though he has the absolute worst timing.

w.c: 0.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} office romance, power imbalance, infidelity, anakin is married, semi-public sexual encounter, explicit language, brief mentions of domestic violence

“I won’t tell her,” Anakin whispers, his deep voice low, his lips brushing over your ear. “Will you?” His entire body drapes over yours and presses you against the edge of your work desk.

With the perfect way your bodies fit together, you can’t help but wonder if this is meant to be. You’ll never be his glamourous wife, the model, her beauty displayed on countless fashion magazines. She’s his equal in every way. But you know the truth of their marriage. He’s told you all his secrets. How she cheats on him. How she screams in rage when he disappoints her. How she hits him when they fight.

You’ve seen the bruises, evidence of the abuse he’s entertained for all the years they’ve been married. And you know he’ll never hit her back. It’s not in his character. He’s a sweetheart to her, and until now, such a loyal husband.

“I wouldn’t. But this… isn’t a good idea,” you say, trying to find the willpower to resist him.

Your nails dig into the hard surface while Anakin, your boss, hugs your body tightly and holds you dangerously close to his broad chest. The edges of his curly hair tickle the side of your cheek and your neck as he kisses you softly.

Anakin spins you around to face him. He leans down to match up your lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Haven’t you? I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me ever since I hired you.”

You shake your head. “No. No. I need this job.”

“Fucking me can be added to your list of duties if it makes you feel better.” He sighs against your skin. “I’ll even throw in a little raise for you… no, a big one.”

Your boss trails his hand around your waist and down your abdomen, rubbing your stomach through your clothes. Your skin twitches from the electricity you feel at only his touch. “Mmm… can’t. That wouldn’t be legal.”

“Angel… make an exception. For me.” His intense gaze burns your vision. He’s almost too pretty to look at. “I make the rules around here, don’t I?”

You bite the edge of your lips. This is bad. Very bad. And very tempting.

“Someone might see,” you argue, more with yourself than with him. That’s the only excuse you could think of besides the fact that Anakin is your fucking boss. Now he wants to be your boss that fucks you.

You really never wanted this to happen. Of course, you’d have the occasional fantasy, a little daydream about him here and there, but you’d never thought he’d come onto you. And at the worst possible timing. You’re supposed to be briefing him for the upcoming meeting. The one that’s supposed to be happening in—you check the clock about the door—twenty fucking minutes.

“You should know I don’t care about that.” His tone is suggestive, hinting at the time you caught him with his wife one day when you came in early. He had her sprawled out over his desk. That was when things were good between them, before she started to get violent.

“You’ll be late to the meeting with—”

He shuts you up with a kiss, his mouth pressing to yours gently and quietly demanding more. This is the first time you’ve ever kissed him. Though it’s something you thought of a lot over the months of your employment. His lips are soft and smooth, everything you’ve dreamed about. And when you kiss him back, against your better judgment, you swear you hear him gasp. How long has he wanted this too?

Anakin lifts you up onto your desk and pulls your legs apart, squeezing his body between your thighs. Halfheartedly, you try to hold him there, keep him away, but it doesn’t work. It can’t work. Because. You. You love him. 

And so, you yield… to his every impulse.

add yourself to my taglist!!

[strangeandoff-putting]

why I'm happysad that they let Numa be the narrator in Society of the Snow.

So if you, like me, have been more than a little obsessed with the story of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 for a very, very long time, your stomach probably dropped like mine did when the narrator introduced himself as Numa Turcatti. (My immediate thought was, "why would you do this to us?!") If you went in blind, I feel for you!

But while the film gave us a version of Numa, since it's from his perspective what it doesn't really give us is the group's perspective on him. He comes across a bit like an outsider, and although, yes, his only surviving friend was Pancho Delgado, he wasn’t an outsider for long at all. On the contrary. So, here are a few excerpts from the books that tell you more about what he was like and how much they all loved him, because I feel like that’s important.

From Alive, Piers Paul Read:

Next to Parrado, Numa Turcatti was the most generally beloved of the boys. [...] Since he had known few of the boys before leaving Montevideo, it was proof of his strength, simplicity and complete lack of malice that he became so loved and respected by them.

On celebrating Numa's birthday while trapped under the avalanche:

The boys gave him an extra cigarette and made a birthday cake out of snow. [...] Many would have liked to give him a better time on his birthday, but instead it was he who improved their spirits. "We have survived the worst," he said. "From now on, things can only get better."

From Society of the Snow, Pablo Vierci:

‘When I talk about Numa, I can’t help but cry,’ says Coche Inciarte. ‘He’s the best person I’ve ever met in my life. However tenderly I cared for those who were losing heart, Numa did it much better because he never got tired. He was constantly aware of everyone else’s distress. He radiated peace, he never gave up, and when he came near me, I felt like Jesus Christ himself was among us, with such mercy and compassion in his eyes. I don’t know where he got his strength.’ ‘I could never imagine him living in everyday life, because I met him and I loved him in that torment of the Andes,’ says Coche. ‘He had a hard time eating, like I did. We ate the bare minimum in order to survive. I lost one hundred pounds, he lost more. And just like me, his leg became infected after the avalanche. We operated on our legs together with a razor blade. But he deteriorated more quickly than I did, because he had given so much more; he had been too generous.’

Moncho Sabella:

Numa taught us about the anonymous heroism of giving more of himself to others than he reserved for himself. In that balance between solidarity and selfishness, which decided whether you lived or died, he tilted the balance in favour of the others to the detriment of himself. [...] And when the avalanche came and covered the plane, the one who worked the hardest, the one who removed the most snow so that we could come back to life, was Numa. Again, he was exceeding his own limits. [...] In the end, his immune system was so devastated that he got one infection after another. We gave him antibiotics and the doctors on the mountain attended to him every day, but finally he left us. And with him, we all died a little more.

Gustavo Zerbino:

I always remember Numa up there, full of despair, when he told us that he would rather die watching the sky, walking, instead of ending life immobilised in a cave of broken metal. For that reason, after the avalanche, he kept digging and removing snow without rest until he burned himself out with exhaustion. He always thought that his time had come but he wanted to work until the final moment, doing whatever he could to help. I cared for him all those days; I saw how he was hurried to the brink of death, with no defences, getting one infection after another. I went up to him and first I gave him a kiss on the cheek to greet him and asked him how he was doing. He just stared at me with a kind of infinite peace. He never complained. But Numa was quickly deteriorating: from that physical strength and vigour he had had at the beginning, he finished as a skeletal dying boy. He held on to his characteristic qualities until the end though. He was that same stoic guy when he was strong and when he was wasting away.

‘Gustavo Zerbino didn’t tell us the whole truth [about the expedition] because he didn’t want us to be discouraged. When I asked Numa about it, he couldn’t lie and he told me: “As far as we went, all you could see were more mountains.” But even so, he always wanted to be an expeditionary. “I want to go,” he told me, even though I knew at once he could never go, he was too exhausted and too hurt.’ So Numa approached Daniel Fernández, knowing that he had influence over the others, and he tried to convince him: ‘I can do it, Daniel, please believe me. I can do it.’ Daniel recalls, ‘When I told him that his injury made it impossible, he started working even harder than ever, like a bull, shovelling snow to unbury the plane after the avalanche to show that yes, he could do it.’

Finally, from Alive, after Numa died:

On this particular afternoon, Javier Methol lay at the back of the plane. "Be careful," he said to Coche as he rose and stepped over Numa's body. "Be careful not to step on Numa." "But Numa's dead," said Parrado. Javier had not realised what had happened, and now that he understood his spirits dropped completely. He wept as he had wept at the death of Liliana, for he had grown to love the shy and simple Numa Turcatti as though he were his brother or son.

I'm not sure the Numa we see in the film is quite the same person that he actually was on that mountain, but I'm so, so glad that he got a voice. He fought so hard for them all.

So, yeah. In the immortal words of Jake Peralta,