Tumgik
#cocky bastard series
starrikiru · 11 months
Text
yamace but ace survived marineford and came back to yamato
Tumblr media
i will be coloring this btw
62 notes · View notes
Note
Aurum how would you like it if I broke your kneecaps?
The supervillain raises an eyebrow. "Wouldn't appreciate it much, that would be inconvenient." He admits. "Though, I doubt you could. Maybe double check who you're talking to before making bold threats, hm?"
9 notes · View notes
tastywordgasms · 1 year
Text
📚💙📚ᑎᗴW ℛ𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈ℯ📚💙📚 Sexy Bastard by J.L. Perry is ᗩᐯᗩ𝕚ᒪᗩ𝔹ᒪᗴ ᑎᗝW! ᑕℍᗴᑕ𝕂ᗝU𝕋 Lita’s 🅑🅞🅞🅚 🆁🅔🅥🅘🅔🅦!!! ஜீ𝕆ℕ𝔼 ℂ𝕃𝕀ℂ𝕂 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪ஜீ @JLPerryAuthor @CockyClub @GiveMeBooksPR @jlperryauthor and @cockyheroclub
📚💙📚ᑎᗴW ℛ𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈ℯ📚💙📚 Sexy Bastard by J.L. Perry is ᗩᐯᗩ𝕚ᒪᗩ𝔹ᒪᗴ ᑎᗝW! ᑕℍᗴᑕ𝕂ᗝU𝕋 Lita’s 🅑🅞🅞🅚 🆁🅔🅥🅘🅔🅦!!! ஜீ𝕆ℕ𝔼 ℂ𝕃𝕀ℂ𝕂 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪ஜீ @JLPerryAuthor @CockyClub @GiveMeBooksPR @jlperryauthor and @cockyheroclub
    Title: Sexy Bastard A Cocky Hero Club Novel Author: J.L. Perry   Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: December 18, 2022   Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward are excited to bring you the Cocky Hero Club: original works from various authors inspired by Keeland and Ward’s New York Times bestselling Cocky Bastard series.     BLURB GRAYSON EDWARDS is one sexy bastard. From the moment we locked…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
sp0o0kylights · 3 months
Text
Part One
Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.
More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 
The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 
It smelled mockingly delicious. 
Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.
Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 
Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 
That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 
“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.
Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 
“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 
God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.
“Dustin what did I just say--” 
Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war. Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.
There was no cowering. 
No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.
Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.
No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 
“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of said cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 
It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 
Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 
Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 
Eddie’s eye twitched.
Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 
“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 
(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 
Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.
Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.
Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 
Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 
He hated how good they looked.
“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 
He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 
Eddie hated how good he looked too. 
‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 
“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 
Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 
Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 
(Their characters were dead too.) 
“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 
Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.
"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.
“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”
Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 
Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 
With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 
Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 
Jeff sent him a look.
The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 
He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 
“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”
Eddie pretended to gag.  
Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 
Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to presumably another annoying woman; 
“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 
For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 
Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.
Even Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sheer number of them. 
“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both took a step back. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 
“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 
“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 
The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 
(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 
“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.
Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 
Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 
“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 
Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 
(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)
Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.
(He told it to knock it off.
It didn’t listen.) 
No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 
Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.
The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.
Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 
Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 
Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 
Get him to help Harrington. 
“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 
Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 
“I’m supervising.” 
Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 
“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 
Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 
xXx 
Harrington was matching him tit for tat.
Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.
A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.
What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 
But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.
(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)
Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?
Erase the years of Eddie being their shield in high school? 
Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about his stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 
Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 
‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 
‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 
‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’
The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.
Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 
There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while the King enjoyed the attention of the masses. 
Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Harrington would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.
This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 
To defend his table, his club, his friends. 
Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 
“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 
Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)
“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  
“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.
“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 
Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 
Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 
“How delightful. I--” 
“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 
“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 
“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 
Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.
“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking on the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s actually been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 
Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 
“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"
The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 
He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 
“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 
Eddie gaped. 
“I cannot believe you right now--”
Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.
 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.
Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 
Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.
With the enemy. 
“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 
Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 
“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.
“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 
“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 
Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 
Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 
In Eddie’s fucking place. 
He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  
Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 
xXx
Trouble didn't hit the table.
It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.
Even the questions toned done, as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.
Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.
(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.
He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.
With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 
Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.
Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 
Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.
It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.
Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of innervation.
The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?
Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 
Sonovabitch. 
“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.
He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkin, Harrington and everyone. 
And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?
To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 
That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?
Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.
Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.
How long had he been like this? 
Been a douchebag asshole? 
Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?
Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?
Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.
Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marking her as a member of the band kids who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 
Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what he was doing. What he always did.
Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)
--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.
Because she and Steve were friends.
Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.
Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.
Tucked himself right into a corner, right there by the stairs.
Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.
Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 
He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.
He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.
“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 
(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)
“She gave me her number!”
That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 
Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 
Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation if they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 
“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 
“...I’m not following.” 
“Like in a friend way. Not a--”
“Romantic way?”
Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 
“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 
“Not so loud, Steve!” 
“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 
“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 
“Robs, breathe.” 
“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 
 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 
In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 
“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  
And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-
And-and-and--
Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 
It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 
Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 
You know, in a gay way. 
Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 
Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 
Eddie’s head exploded. 
Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 
Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.
(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)
Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.
Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.
“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 
“I’m busy Dustin--”
“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 
“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 
Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.
“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 
“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 
He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.
Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.
He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.
“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"
"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.
After he saved Hellfire. 
1K notes · View notes
kinanabinks · 8 months
Text
marital bliss
Tumblr media
18+
Months have passed since the wedding and you're settling into your new life as the Queen of New York.
Content Warning: Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader, mature themes, mention of pregnancy, smut, shower sex, fluff. Post wedding!
Series Masterlist
Tumblr media
"What about eggs? Can you have eggs?"
"As long as they're cooked," Banita replies as she scans over the menu. "I'm just gonna play it safe and get some pasta."
You look up from the menu and glance at her slightly round belly. "I can't live in suspense, B," You say, shaking your head. "When are you gonna tell me who the father is?"
She snorts, raising a brow. "Once I figure out who the father is," She jokes before looking back down at the menu.
"Oh, come on, there can't be that many potentials," You say with narrow eyes. "You're what, four months gone? So, it happened around the same time as my wedding?"
"Maybe," She chirps with a shrug, before sitting up. "Speaking of the wedding, how is it? Isn't it so weird being married to Bucky after being best friends for so long?"
"Not really," You answer truthfully as a smile grows on your face. "Things are pretty much the same, only with more sex. And more arguments."
"Oh, yeah?" She asks, frowning. "Are they bad?"
"Mostly, we fight about what we're gonna eat for dinner, so I can't complain," You tell her with a laugh. "I could never make him really mad, and he's too sweet to me for me to truly get upset about anything, you know?"
Banita raises a brow. "Sweet ain't exactly the word I'd use to describe Barnes," She admits with a mumble.
"You know what I mean. Bastard to the world, softie to me," You say proudly. "He's true to his word. He prioritises me, doesn't keep any secrets from me, and the sex is fucking mind-blowing."
"Must be nice," She comments with a smile. "I am so, so happy for you. And a little happy for Barnes too, I guess."
You give her a sly look, reaching out to rest your hand on hers. "You could be happy in love too, if you invited Mr. Baby Daddy into the picture."
She pulls her hand back and rolls her eyes. "I told you, I don't know-"
"Don't give me that bullshit," You say lowly. "You were in Romania the week before my wedding, and you were with your family in the Hills the week after. I'm guessing it was someone in that time frame, and I highly doubt your overbearing father let you out of his sight when you were with him. So-"
"I'm not doing this," She cuts you off. "Why don't we talk about you, hmm? When are you gonna have babies?"
Taken aback by her question, you let out a dry laugh. "Uh, never?"
She leans forward, her eyes trained on yours. "Does Bucky know you feel that way?" She wonders curiously.
"I'm sure he does," You mutter, feeling slightly doubtful all of a sudden.
"Yeah, maybe that's something you oughta talk about," She says with a wince.
"Yeah," You mumble, before sitting up and giving her an excited grin. "Anyway - we have a baby shower to plan!"
Tumblr media
Bucky picks up the glass of whiskey, his silver wedding band clinking against it before he takes a long sip. Once he's swallowed the dark liquor, he raises a brow. "Not bad. It's earned you a couple more minutes," He says, glaring at the man opposite him. "Make it quick."
"Think of it as a wedding gift. I heard you finally locked Y/N down," Steve says with a sly grin. "Congratulations, Barnes. You did well. She's... scrumptious."
"One more word about my wife and I'll cut your tongue out, Rogers," Bucky warns him gravely.
With a cocky chuckle, Steve sits up. "I assure you, Barney, you'll wanna keep my tongue intact," He states confidently. "I have some very interesting information for you."
Letting out a grumble, Bucky clenches his jaw. "What could you possibly know that would be of any value to me?" He asks gruffly.
Steve tilts his head and smirks. "How about the name of the guy that caused your mother's death?"
The tension tightens between them as Bucky sits back, slightly confused. "I killed Rumlow six years ago," He reminds him curtly as his fingers twitch with the memory of Rumlow's warm blood.
"You sure did. And my, what a bloodbath that was," Steve reminisces warmly, before his face drops. "But, you didn't kill the man who ordered her death. The man who told Rumlow where she'd be that night. The man who helped him take down her security detail and left her vulnerable."
Bucky feels his heart begin to race as a panic sets in. The image of his mother flashes in his mind, the lack of light in her eyes, her blood-soaked dress. He takes a few deep breaths and remembers his hypnotherapist's tips, closing his eyes and calming himself down. He wraps his hand around the arm of his chair, grounding himself in reality. In the present.
Once his heartbeat has stabled and he can breathe normally again, he reopens his eyes and clears his throat. Meeting Steve's eyes, he simply questions, "How much do you want?"
The blond's eyes fill with delight as all the power is handed to him. Sitting back, Steve gives him a small smile. "It's not money that I want, Barney," He reveals cryptically.
Just then, the door to the office opens and you walk in, making Bucky relax a little more. He holds his hand out to you, silently begging you to take it. "Fairy," He murmurs under his breath to nobody in particular.
"Hi, baby," You greet him sweetly, stealing a glance at Steve before sitting on Bucky's lap and linking your fingers with his. "Who's this?"
Steve's cocky smirk drops at your question. "It- it's me, Y/N. Steve," He says.
Playing dumb, you tilt your head. "Steve who?" You ask, making Bucky's lips curl up.
"Rogers," Steve clarifies, baffled. "You know, I own the club? We've met, multiple times. We even-"
"Oh! That Steve!" You cut him off loudly before turning to Bucky and giving him a soft kiss. "Anyway, baby, dinner's here. Peter made sarmale."
Bucky raises a brow. "He did?" He asks with a scoff.
"He developed a love for Romanian food while we were there," You explain. "So, finish up your little meeting and come to the dining room."
"Yes, ma'am," He obeys, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it gently before looking over at Steve. "We'll continue this another day, Rogers."
With a sigh, Steve stands up and gives him a nod. "Call me when you're ready to talk," He says before looking at you. "Y/N. Always a pleasure."
"It was nice to meet you, too," You say innocently, giving him a sweet smile as he narrows his eyes and walks out. Once Steve's gone, you turn to Bucky and wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Why was he here?"
Rubbing his face, he sighs. "He's claiming to have some valuable information for me. I'll drop by the club next week to see if he's bluffing," He explains, to which you nod.
"Hey, Jamie?" You begin, sitting up.
"Yes, fairy?" He replies, nuzzling his cheek against the back of your hand.
"D'you want kids?" You ask him, gently running your fingers down his chest.
He looks surprised by your question as his eyes widen for a second. "Where'd that come from, huh?" He wonders aloud. "Did I get a little too intense with the breeding kink last night?"
Shrugging, you pull on one of the buttons on his shirt. "I dunno. Banita brought it up, and I realized we haven't discussed it," You tell him.
"We've spoken about it before," He reminds you. "We know where we stand."
"But now we're married," You emphasize. "Maybe your desires have changed now that you have a wife."
"Have yours?" He questions you, pulling you closer. "Does having a husband make you want kids?"
"No," You answer truthfully. "Not in the slightest."
"Well, unless that changes, I'm more than happy with my world revolving around you and nothing but you," He says, cupping your cheek in his hand. "I love you, Mrs. Barnes. I don't need anything else."
"I love you, Mr. Barnes," You reply with a smile, utterly content. "Now, let's go eat some sarmale."
Surprisingly, Peter hasn't completely butchered the recipe, and even Bucky's impressed.
"So, why the sudden interest in Romanian food?" Bucky asks Peter as the group of you stand around the kitchen island, eating.
Peter shrugs, his cheeks tinging pink. "No particular reason. I just liked it, and so I wanted to be able to have it here, too," He answers timidly.
Sam raises a brow. "There are plenty of Romanian restaurants in the city," He reminds the brunet.
Nervously, Peter busies himself with opening up a water bottle. "Yeah, but it doesn't taste the same," He claims lowly.
"Those places are run by actual Romanians," Bucky points out with an unimpressed look. "You think you can do better than them? These sarmale are good, but not that good."
Laughing softly, you nudge Bucky's arm. "There's obviously a girl he's trying to impress," You say, before shooting Peter a wink. "Met someone at the wedding?"
"It wasn't one of my cousins, was it?" Bucky asks him with a glare.
Gulping, Peter shakes his head. "N- no, Sir. It wasn't one of your cousin sisters," He replies, choosing his words carefully.
"Ah, so there is a girl," Sam teases through a grin.
"I just really like sarmale, okay?" Peter bursts with bright red cheeks.
While the two of them spat, Bucky lowers his voice and moves closer to you. "How was Banita earlier?" He asks. "All good?"
"Yeah, she's doing great," You reply with a smile. "Still a little morning sickness, but not as intense."
Your words catch Sam's attention. "Morning sickness?" He repeats with a frown.
"Yeah, she just entered the second trimester, so it isn't as bad as it was before," You tell him while feeding Bucky another bite.
Sam's lips part and his eyes widen. "Banita's pregnant?" He asks, his concern confusing you seeing as he's never asked about her before or even met her that many times.
"Mhm. Four months," You tell him, to which he nods.
"Oh," He says, before clearing his throat. "And, uh, it's been how long since the wedding, again?"
"Four months," Bucky answers with a grin. "Fairy and I have a theory that she slept with someone that night, but she isn't telling us."
"She claims to not know who the father is, but I know she's lying," You say, shaking your head. "I know her. She doesn't sleep around a lot."
Sam swallows thickly, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. "Right," He mumbles, looking down at the counter. "Right."
After finishing up with dinner, you and Bucky bid good night to Peter and Sam before making your way up to your bedroom. It feels much more homely than the place Bucky lived in before you were married, and it felt right to start somewhere new to signify the new beginning in your relationship.
You stand in front of the full-length mirror and start to take off your jewellery, keeping on your ring and diamond studs. Bucky moves closer behind you, resting his hands on your hips while pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. His eyes flicker up to meet yours in the mirror, the two of you immediately smiling. He slowly pulls down the zipper on the back of your dress, keeping his eyes on yours while helping you remove it.
"Join me?" You ask lowly, leaning your head back to rest it on his chest.
He presses kisses up your neck, making you shiver. "Don't have to ask me twice, fairy."
You start the shower off while he undresses. By the time he enters the en suite, it's warm with steam. You're standing under the water, letting it soak into your hair, and Bucky doesn't think he's ever seen a more beautiful sight.
"Still can't believe you're all mine," Bucky mumbles, mostly to himself as he walks closer. "All mine, forever."
You turn to him with a smile and reach your hand out. "I always have been," You tell him as he joins you in the walk-in shower.
He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his. You bite your lip when you feel his thick shaft pressing against your stomach, already hard. There isn't a single word that needs to be said. No question, no answer. Bucky simply has to give you a look that tells you he needs you on a carnal level, and all you have to do in return is give him that coy smile he loves seeing. The smile that tells him you want him just as bad, if not more.
The cold wall is hardly paid any mind when he pushes you against it, kissing you. As the water rains over you both, Bucky lifts up your right leg and wraps it around his hip. His fingers brush against your wet folds, then your clit, as though he still needs to check you're wet enough. You're always wet enough. His cock is welcomed in with no resistance, encapsulated within your spongy walls as he buries himself deep inside you.
There was a time, just after you returned from your honeymoon, that you felt a fear. A fear that he'd get bored. Bucky hadn't so much as held down a girlfriend for longer than two weeks, and suddenly he was married to you. What if he got bored? What if the constraints of monogamy became irritating - or worse, what if he saw them as a challenge? Ever since you met Bucky, you were exposed to the kind of men he works with. Men with similar jobs and mindsets as him. Not a single one of them remained faithful to their wives, so were you a fool for thinking Bucky would be different? For thinking you were special enough to have his loyalty?
But there's a look you've learnt that he gives you. A look he gives you every time he sinks into you for the first time. It starts in his eyes, then his eyebrows flicker upwards, his lips part, and his nostrils slightly flare for a split second. It's a look no man has ever given you before. It's a look that says, I never want to lose you. I never want to be like this with anyone else. You're safe with me.
You and Bucky have known each other too long to need words anymore.
"Oh fuck, fairy, your pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me like that."
Words are still nice, though.
"Don't stop," You breathe out, digging your nails into his back. "Please, don't you ever stop."
He finds the perfect rhythm quickly, as always. The perfect beat for the song of your pleasure. You sing along while he conducts, constantly in awe of each other.
His lips are at your ear, his beard scruffy against your skin. He whispers, groans, sighs, praises your existence while railing you like there's no tomorrow. "My beautiful girl," Bucky utters, stroking your cheek with his thumb. His hand slowly travels down to your neck which he gently wraps it around, slightly squeezing the sides.
"Oh, Jamie," You cry loudly, wondering what you ever did to deserve this. To deserve him. You must've been a saint in your past life.
As the end begins, Bucky pulls his head back so he can look you in the eyes. So he can watch as you come undone, because that's his favorite view in the entire world. The sight of you, mouth open in a silent gasp, eyebrows raised, pupils blown, while you cum for him, is worth more than anything else. His fingers rub your clit, his other hand finds your nipple, because he wants this one to be big. He wants you to be shaking, screaming his name, unable to think straight for at least a half hour afterwards.
The end is always a blur for you. You remember clearly how it feels, but once he sends you flying through ecstasy, you're gone. Your mind is empty, legs like jelly, and you're not sure if you're making any noise or not. Bucky's final grunts are barely audible, and you cling tightly to him as he brings you both to climax. It feels endless, like constant jolts to your core as wave after wave of pleasure overtake you.
It isn't until you're laying in bed that you regain full consciousness. There's a dull soreness between your legs, but it's a feeling you never want to be without. Proof that you're his. That he's yours.
"Good day?" He asks you with a whisper, testing the waters of your sensitivity. It's possible you're not ready to talk, or that you're still not fully capable of forming coherent speech, or that you simply don't want to. There have been times that, even thirty minutes after the act is over, you've burst into tears. So he whispers, and he gently kisses your forehead, but he makes sure not to overwhelm your senses much more than that.
You turn your head so your eyes can meet his. Your lips curl up into a smile and you reach out, wordlessly telling him you're ready for him to almost crush you in his tight grip. "Good day," You whisper back.
He pulls you closer and his arms are around you, holding you close to his body. Bucky rests his forehead against yours for a few blissful moments, wondering what he ever did to deserve you. He kisses your lips softly, both of you slowly blinking as exhaustion threatens to take over. No more words are spoken between you before you both fall asleep, but there's no need for them. Not when all the important things have already been understood.
Tumblr media
to be notified of when i next post, please follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on update notifications as i no longer have a taglist!
the best way to support me is to buy me a kofi <3
2K notes · View notes
ghosts-cyphera · 5 months
Note
lovieee im so excited for tmrw its gonna be my birfday weeeee 🐛🩷
🪷
18+; mdni / pornstar!ghost x fem!reader; masterlist here / suggestive little extra ficlet. not an official part of the series, just a little something as a present for the sweetest 🪷-anon. happy birthday, darling!
Tumblr media
from the feeling of something heavy falling onto your lap, you lifted your sight to meet the frame of ghost. his eyes were sparkling with amusement, the corners of his lips tugged into a smug grin.
"I know it's your birthday," he chuckled before you got a chance to ask. "I know you tried to hide it from me, but—"
"who said I tried to hide it from you?"
ghost squinted his eyes, playful. "you didn't invite me to your party."
"who said I was having a party?"
"val," he mused, only to curse under his breath as he saw the smirk rising to your features. "fuckin' hell. surprise party, wasn't it?"
"did she invite you?"
"long as I behave," he grinned as he leaned against the side of your armchair and nodded toward the cream-colored box in your lap. "open it, yeah? maybe it'll make up for the spoiled surprise 'n all."
"I'm not sure I should trust you," you laughed. the mint green ribbon tied around the box came undone with just the gentlest of tugs, and your fingers—ever so slightly hesitant—pushed up the lid. 
oh.
in the box was a cake: an intricate one with a frosting of your favorite color. little candy pearls and edible decorations had been neatly placed around the cursive words that read—clear as day—talk dirty to me. 
"you couldn't go with happy birthday, or—," you glanced at him as your breathless laugh bubbled from your lips, "to my darlin'?" you mimicked his accent.
"I consider it a bloody birthday wish come true," he grinned. "y'know, gettin' to talk dirty to me day in, day fuckin' out. even get paid for it."
cocky bastard.
"you should've just wrapped a bow around yourself," you laughed.
"that your biggest wish?" he grinned. "havin' me all to yourself, eh?"
"maybe." you laughed as you raised your gaze to meet his eyes. "do you have any birthday candles? for seeing if maybe this year my wish will come true?"
he let out a deep chuckle as his lips found your forehead, warm as he planted a kiss on your skin. "no need for 'em, darlin'. 'm already yours."
Tumblr media
a/n: happy birthday, bestie!! I hope you have a wonderful, beautiful, magical day full of snacks and love and thoughts of ps!ghost or whoever else it is that gets your tummy full of butterflies, hehe. I adore you!! / pornstar!ghost masterlist / inbox open for all your thoughts and ideas and tea! 💌
671 notes · View notes
shellyshellshell · 4 months
Text
Your Heart or Mine: Part One
Tumblr media
Attn: Y’all I am so sorry. I knoooow I said I’d write an August series next and like I said earlier I’m supposed to be writing Henry but Sy just wouldn’t leave me alone sooo here we go with another Sy series 👀 Hope yall aren’t disappointed and enjoy this!!! It’s really like porn with a little plot but we’ll get there when it comes to the plot eventually lol.
Word Count: 2,234
Pairing: Sy x Reader
Summary: You meet a sexy stranger in a bar.
Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (female receiving), fucking in a truck, semi public sex (p in v), exhibitionism, bit of praise kink and body worship
The first time it ever happened you weren’t even meaning for it to. That night you and your cousin Dani had decided on a long awaited girl’s night together with your friends, you hadn’t even been looking for a hookup. You stood by the bar in your tightest jeans and black tank top waiting on your third round of drinks when he came up beside you. He was big and burly. Full beard with a cropped haircut and the most beautiful cerulean eyes you’d ever seen. You were trying hard not to stare, but when he caught you looking he smirked.
“It’s alright darlin’, you can look,” he drawled. Cocky bastard, you thought. “I’ve been lookin’ myself. Haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since you walked in here,” he added. Or maybe not. “Is that so?,” you said, flashing him a grin. “Hell yes. You’re the best lookin’ thing I’ve ever seen. I’d like to see more,” he said as his eyes darkened. You don’t know what came over you, maybe it was because it had been awhile, or maybe it was because this man was like sex on two legs, but suddenly, you wanted him to see, to touch, and taste every inch of you.
“I don’t even know your name,” you said after your brain could function again. “Eric, Eric Syverson. Most people call me Sy but you can call me whatever you want,” he said as he extended his hand out to you. You took it and introduced yourself before something dawned on you. “Didn’t we go to school together? I think you were a few years ahead of me,” you mused. He called the name of where he went to school and it all clicked. You hadn’t recognized him at first, but you remembered him now. He was handsome even then, but he’d turned into this absolute bear of a man now you hadn’t realized who he was at first.
He still had ahold of your hand and pulled you in closer. “Sugarplum, I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but I’d sure like to take you out to my truck and have my way with you,” he rasped. Your breathing hitched in the back of your throat. You weren’t sure what it was but there was something about him… something that made you feel absolutely wild. You moved in closer, pushing your chest into his before putting your lips next to his ear and speaking. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you whispered. You could feel him shudder against you before he quickly pulled you outside of the bar.
He pulled you around back and over to his truck before pressing you against it and kissing you with such ferocity it took your breath. He then grabbed you under your thighs and lifted you, pressing himself in between your legs. You could feel his hard cock pressed against you and ground your clothed center into him. He groaned deeply against your lips before fumbling with the door handle and all but tossing you into the back seat, making you yip.
He chuckled at your reaction before getting in and shutting the door. He straddled your legs and began pawing at your body. “You got too many clothes on Sugarplum,” he murmured before he started undressing you. He began with your top, then your bra. He groaned appreciatively at the sight of your bare breasts before reaching down and grabbing them up in his big hands. They were warm and rough, sending chills over your body. “Mmm,” you mewled as he began rolling your nipples under his thumbs.
“These are nice darlin’. Real nice,” he said before leaning down and taking a nipple in his mouth. Your body writhed beneath him at the feeling. When he let one go he just couldn’t neglect the other so he gave it the attention he thought it so well deserved. He kissed down your stomach before popping the button on your jeans. “You like oral Sugarplum?,” he mumbled against your skin as he continued to kiss you. “Hmm?,” he insisted. “I- I’ve never orgasmed from oral, but most men can’t find the fucking clit,” you panted. “I know exactly where it is, and I can show you,” he said assuredly.
“Okay,” you breathed. He slid your pants and underwear off before looking down at you. “Pretty,” he said, mostly to himself as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. He dipped one in. He slid it in and out, making you moan. “Shit,” he groaned. “What’s wrong,” you asked. “Not one thing darlin’. So tight and wet. You’re gonna feel amazin’,” he told you. “You got protection?,” you asked. “‘Course I do,” he replied before leaning down and flicking his tongue out against your clit.
“Fuck,” you cried out. “Told you I knew where it was,” he said before going right back to eating you out. He was swapping between licking and suckling your clit while continuing to move his finger in and out of you. Ragged little gasps came from deep within your throat, you in complete and total pleasure from what he was doing to you. He slid his arm beneath your thigh pulling you impossibly closer before reaching up and fondling your breast. Grabbing, pumping, licking, sucking. Again and again and again.
“Ssss- Sy,” you cried out as you came. “That’s right baby,” he cooed as he worked you through your orgasm. He kept licking your oversensitive clit, and added another finger to your aching cunt. “I- I can’t,” you gasped. “Just one more. Your little pussy tastes so good. I ain’t ready to stop yet”, he told you before starting back up. Before it was over you were squirming against his face and fingers chasing release. What finally sent you over the edge was him sucking your clit into his mouth and moving his tongue over it in quick, tight little flits. “Ooooh fuck,” you moaned while gripping at his forearms. “Mmhmm,” he groaned against you.
He finally pulled back taking the time to suck your juices off his fingers before ridding himself of his clothes. You looked down at his hard cock and bit your lip. It was so big you weren’t sure if it was going to fit. “You can touch if you want darlin’. I won’t bite, unless you want me to,” he winked. You sat up and ran your hands over his hairy chest, down his stomach, and finally to his girth. You wrapped your hand around it, stroking him a few times before taking your thumb and rubbing the precum over the head. “Shit baby,” he shuddered at the feeling. “I’ve never had one this big before,” to told him. He took your face in his hands while you stroked him and kissed you hungrily. “I’ll take it easy on you darlin’. You still want it?,” he said.
“Yes. I- I wanna try,” you told him. “You’re good girl ain’t you?,” he then said. “Maybe,” you said as you looked up through your lashes. He reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out a condom. He slid it on before laying you back on the seat. He pressed the head of his cock against your cunt before looking down at you. He grabbed your breasts before breaching your entry. As promised, he took it easy on you, slowing pushing his way inside.
“Oh my God,” you groaned when he bottomed out. You could feel yourself constricting around him but you couldn’t stop. “Fuck, Sugarplum. You gotta relax,” he panted. “So big. Uhhh, you’ve got me so full Sy,” you whined. Between how tight you were, the sight of your body and your pussy wrapped around his cock, and your words Sy was more aroused than he could ever remember being in his life. He started moving, harder and faster than you expected. You gasped at the feeling.
“Yeah? This alright. I- I can’t. I can’t darlin’. You feel so good,” he whimpered. “Yeah. Mmmm. Harder,” you pleaded. He hadn’t even been inside you long but you felt yourself so close to your peak it was ridiculous. Sy gladly obliged. He pounded into you hard and deep, the head of his cock, pressing further than any man had ever pressed before. You reached your hand down to your pelvis and could feel him moving beneath your skin. “That where you feel me baby? All the way up there?,” he grunted. “Yes,” you whimpered. “Anybody else ever fuck you this good Sugarplum? I know you’re close already. Feel you squeezing me so tight,” he said. “Nooooo,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit you. Your legs shook at the force of it. “Damn right baby. Fuckin’ takin’ my cock so well. I knew you were a good girl, Pussy’s so fuckin’ good can hardly stand it,” he said before pulling out and snatching you up and setting you on your knees.
He had you facing the back glass of the truck, where he arched you to his liking and reentered you. You held onto the back of the seat as he absolutely throttled you. He moved your hair to the side before wrapping his arms around you and laying his front to your back. He pressed sloppy, wet kisses to the side of your neck as soft groans fell from his lip that you could still somehow manage to hear over your wanton moans. “Gonna come for me again Sugarplum? I sure wish you would. Wanna feel you,” he whispered into your ear. He pulled you upright before scooting you forward and pressing you into the seat and back glass. Your nipples pressed into the cool glass while Sy held you about the middle.
“Or maybe you’re a bad girl. Letting me fuck you like this where anybody could see, huh?,” he taunted. He ran his hand down and rubbed your clit as he slowed down and ground into you. “Y- you’re fuckin’ me so good I don’t care who sees,” you said between pants. You could feel him smile against your shoulder. “Yeah? You like how I’m giving it to you darlin’?,” he asked. Just then you came a fourth time, unable to hold yourself together any longer. “You do like it huh? Never had such a responsive little thing. Respondin’ to my touch, my cock, and even my voice. Fuckin’ sexy as hell,” he said before sliding out of you again.
You whimpered at the feeling of being so empty after he’d had you so full. “Come here,” he said. You shakily turned around and sat down on his waiting lap, sliding down on his cock inch by inch. He took your face in his hands and kissed you as you started rolling your hips, grinding against him. “Just like that darlin’,” he whispered before kissing you again. You kneaded at his strong back as you kept moving your hips. He slid his tongue across your lower lip before you opened your mouth and granted him entry.
“Mmmm,” he groaned over and over. You came once again before Sy took over. He kept you there in his lap, as he braced himself and started pounding into you. “I’m about to come darlin’. You’ve been so good for me. Comin’ on my mouth and fingers, then on my cock so many times. I’m gonna show you just how good you make me feel,” he whined. “Uhhh, uhhh, uh, uhh. Fuuuuck,” he husked as his body went rigid. He moaned loudly as he slammed you down on his cock twice more before he stilled.
He held you tightly as he rested his head on your chest, his sweat dripping onto you. He rubbed your back softly before giving you a kiss and helping you off him. He disposed of the condom before gathering up your clothes and handing them to you. Once you were both dressed he helped you out of the truck then took a look at you and chuckled. “What is it?,” you asked in confusion. “I got your hair sticking out everywhere,” he laughed as he tried to smooth it down. “Better?,” you questioned. “Ehh, not really,” he smirked. “Oh well,” you shrugged.
“Really?,” he questioned playfully. “Look, I just had the best sex of my life, my hair is the least of my concerns,” you giggled. “Best of mine too Sugarplum,” he told you. It took you a minute to register what he’d just said. When it did he looked at you with a lopsided grin. “I mean it. If I’m not being too bold, we should do it again sometime”, he then said. “Seriously?,” you questioned. “Unless you don’t wanna,” he added. “I definitely do want to. Where’s your phone?,” you asked. He reached in his back pocket and handed it to you.
“There. I put my number in there so you can call me whenever you want,” you told him. “Whenever I want huh?,” he smiled. You draped your arms around his neck, and looked into his eyes. “Whenever. You. Want,” you reiterated. He grabbed you at the nape of your neck and gave you another one of those fierce kisses that took your breath before pulling you back just enough to look at you. “I’ll definitely be callin’ you,” he rasped. “I’ll be waitin’,” you said before kissing his lips and walking away.
Part Two
Taglist:
@mrsevans90, @sofiebstar, @kingliam2019, @ylva-syverson, @foxyjwls007, @identity2212, @summersong69, @bascmve01, @thewhowhatwherewhenuniverse, @noirecatt, @sweetbearcolorgarden, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @beck07990, @everything-but-the-not-natural, @hannah9921, @pandaxnienke, @thearcana-moonlight, @drewharrisonwriter, @nikkitc0703, @slut-for-henry-cavill, @princessaxoo, @cersei-phoenix-thorn, @jupitervenusearthmars, @penneferofvenerburg , @wetzilly, @dory-98, @kneelforloki, @caramariehurst, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @mushy-mushroom04, @lillianacristina, @stonedstargazer666, @luftmenzch, @wickedlovely121, @loki-trickst3r, @starfirewildheart, @livisss
429 notes · View notes
serotonins-stuff · 8 months
Text
𝐉𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 °•.•°•.
Tumblr media
♥︎Sypnosis: Just a casual day of training with your Jjk boyfriend.
♥︎Featuring: Gojo, nanami, itadori and Megumi
♥︎Warnings: very fluffy and a tiny bit suggestive
"𝙘'𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩?" °•.•°
Tumblr media
𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤
If you can land a punch I'll reward you" he smirked while getting into position, stretching his neck and arms.
You had been trying to land a hit on him for the past 3 hours, failing every single time as he'd end up pinning you underneath him.
"Oh yeah?" You wheezed "And what would that be?"
"You'll find out soon enough, that's if I allow you to lay a finger on me"
You rolled your eyes with a playful scoff "Cocky bastard"
You were about 3 feet away from each other, staring into his eyes intensely while you waited for the countdown.
"3" he stated, watching as your feet shuffled a bit, spreading them out so you would be able to charge.
"2"
"1"
"Go!" With that, you rushed towards him and he just stood still, smiling as if he was mocking you. Yes you were his girlfriend and he loved you dearly, but he wasn't going to go easy on you. One of the reasons was that you needed the raw experience of what it's like in combat. What it is like to battle a curse.
Just as you reached your hand out to grab him, he disappeared into thin air. Swiftly coming up behind you and holding your arms behind your back. His warm body pressed against your back.
"Gotcha" he husked into your ear while to struggled to free yourself. You weren't ready to give up just yet though, you had a plan in mind that your beloved gojo had no clue about
You thought on your feet and did a half backflip, your legs hooking his head in place as you used all your strength to pull him down to the ground. A surprised yelp came from his lips when the roles were now reversed, You somehow managed to straddle him as you sat on his back, his chest flat against the floor.
He let out o huff of amusement from where his face was smooshed on the floor. He purposefully went easy on you and that pissed you off. You pulled your fist back and collided it on his back with exceptional power, earning a little grunt from him.
"I deserve that"
"Why did you go easy on me that round" you asked crossing your arms.
"We've been going at it for 3 hours sweetheart" he sat up and maneuvered you to sit on his lap, rubbing your arms soothingly "I just figured we call it a day and get some rest"
Your face was still visibly upset, lips pouty, and brows furrowed. After all the time you spent on this, he was just going to stop trying and call it a day?
He kissed your pouty lips and unraveled your crossed arms. "You can't stay mad at me"
You looked away.
"C'mon," he peppered kisses along your face and you tried hard to stifle the smile that so desperately wanted to appear.
You finally cracked when the kisses were targeted toward your neck. "Fine we can go home... that's if you give me a massage before bed"
He smiled and planted a kiss on your lips.
"Deal"
°• .° • . °• . °• .
𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞
"You're behind the oak tree which is 240 degrees to my left," Nanami said blankly, a black blindfold covering his eyes.
He was supposed to be helping you improve your sneaking abilities, and one way you could do that was to try and tackle him while he was blindfolded in a forest.
You weren't going to lie and say it was easy, because so far he's been able to pinpoint your exact location with just his ears.
You changed positions, jumping onto the tree branch directly above him.
"You are currently above-" he stopped, hearing a sound on his left and one in front of him. He knew what you were doing. You were throwing random objects around to try and confuse him.
Now he was alert, standing still so he could catch even the slightest bit of your breathing. A series of rocks fell around him, yet he still couldn't hear where you were.
Nanami knew you were smart, so it would only be fitting to be prepared for anything. You were just that unpredictable.
Just as he thought that you pushed his chest. Sending him a few steps back and he tripped over the wire you had set up behind him. He spun around to stop the fall but another wire had been placed, wrapping around his feet. Leaving him to dangle for the tree branch.
Nanami was officially trapped, and you were the one that trapped him. You couldn't help but smile at your accomplishment.
"Well-" he groaned, taking off the blindfold "This is an unfortunate turn of events"
"Gotcha" you panted from where you stood below him. "You're a pretty tough cookie Kento"
"You flatter me darling"
You seized this moment as an opportunity to catch his lips in yours. Initiating a sweet Spiderman kiss.
You didn't even know how but he somehow managed to break free of the restraints on his legs, breaking from the kiss and landing swiftly on his feet. Clearing his throat as he carried you princess style.
"Nice work today" He kissed your lips once again "Not only did you manage to capture me but you also came up with a master plan which isn't half bad"
"If only it didnt take 3 fricking hours" you groaned into his chest. "Can we go home now please?"
"Of course we can"
°• .° • . °• . °• .
𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞
"You're way too cute yuuji" you giggled, kissing the top of his nose while he lay on the floor. Tangled by the net trap you had set up for him earlier.
You had told him to give it his all but he refused because he was worried he'd hurt you, so instead of fighting back he let you use him to train, allowing himself to be captured and tackled. Which wasn't a problem for him at all, considering his durability.
"Looks like you got me.." he struggled under the net, letting out a sigh of defeat. "again"
"Yuuji are you underestimating me?" You taunted, untying the net to let him out.
He immediately got defensive, flailing his hands frantically "No it's not like that at all I promise!"
"It seems like it to me" you fake pouted, facing your back to him and crossing your arms. "You think I'm weak huh?"
"Baby don't be like that" he called to you but you refused to answer. Not bothering to even listen to what he was saying.
Swiftly he pulled you by the waist from where he sat on the floor and placed you on his lap. His face rested on your shoulder while you struggled in his grasp.
"If you can get yourself free from my cuddles I'll agree to fight back" he mumbled into your neck and closed his eyes.
You smiled to yourself mischievously. Unbeknonks to Yuuji, you had a good idea of how to get yourself free of his grasp.
You stealthily reached your hands towards the sides of his stomach and he thought nothing about it. That was until tickled the spot wildly.
He yelled in surprise and his arms loosened around you. You took that as an opportunity to pin him down and hover above him. His face was one of shock when you were suddenly above him.
You kissed the tip of his nose and giggled.
"Pinned ya"
°• .° • . °• . °• .
𝙈𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙢𝙞
"You're too predictable," Megumi said, swiftly dodging the staff you swung in his direction, and grabbing it. Pulling it towards him till your chest made contact with his.
"You're not helping" you groaned "Can't you like- I dunno give me some specific tips?"
"Well for starters you have to work on being lighter on your feet, your movements are way to predictable and you start off with the same attack, you also aren't utalising the other parts of your body because you put all your focus on the staff"
You huffed out in exhaustion, you would ask him if you could both just go home and cuddle, but you knew very well that your boyfriend was too disciplined to slack off.
"Like this," he said coming up behind you and placing his hands over yours, which had the butterflies in your stomach going wild. He then showed you a better way to start your attacks. It was nothing fancy, just something simple to steer you in the right direction.
He was well aware that you had used up most of your energy for the day, and your movements would most likely be sloppy from now on because of no motivation. He had to find something, anything that would just motivate you for this final 30 minutes.
"If you can get it right I'll give you a kiss"
Your eyes lit up immediately and you straightened up. Looking into his eyes for any hint of dishonesty. A small smile was plastered on his face but you could tell that he was dead serious.
You strengthened the grip on your staff and got into position, determination overcoming you, the reward is the only thing on your mind. Megumi smirked at your sudden change in attitude, realizing that his small stunt had worked.
You charged at him again, this time landing the strike perfectly on the side of his stomach. He didn't feel a thing because the training staff was made from plastic. Yet he couldn't stop the stupid smile from appearing onto his face.
"Did I do it right?" You asked with the cutest face he has ever seen and he nodded causing you to jump around in excitement.
"You saw that right?!" You said to him excitedly "I was like WHOOSH-then I was all like-KAPOW and then I was-"
Megumi cut you off by bringing his lips to yours for a bit before pulling away. This caused you to be a bit flustered as you couldn't utter words anymore,you just stared at him with an expression that made him feel some type of way.
"Im so proud of you" he glowed, caressing your cheek with his hand.
Tumblr media
A/n
I am currently overloaded with school work so updates will be kinda slow. Though I will still do my beat to provide you all will quality content.
We are almost to 300 followers!!😆
Thank you to everyone for the love an support. All of you are very kind and motivate me to keep writing. ❤❤
As always requests are open
972 notes · View notes
ghostkennedy · 5 months
Text
Workplace Romance
~ID! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~
Word count: 7213
Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, dub-con, serial killers, murder, leon's a major asshole and mean to reader, lots of arguing, confrontation, drugging, kidnapping, use of shock collar, degrading, pet names, serious bodily harm, forced self-harm, crawling, descriptions of blood/pain/body mutation, forced blowjob, cum swallowing, piss, reader pisses self, removal of an appendage/body part, capital punishment, death row, lethal injection, masturbation, very little comfort, no happy ending
the content warnings are a mess, but i think i included everything.
!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!
Agent Leon Kennedy. A name you weren’t familiar with until a few weeks ago. Now, he’s the leading cause of all your headaches.
He’s a renowned FBI agent. Not only is he an excellent detective, but an expert in serial killer psychology.
He’s successfully led in the investigations and captures of eight serial killers and helped in the convictions of upwards of a hundred murderers.
He’s spent years studying the minds of serial killers. He can find the smallest bit of information and utilize it to get inside a killer's head. He’s the FBI’s serial killer specialist and if there’s ever a suspected serial killing, the case files land right on his desk.
And that’s what’s brought the two of you together.
You had just made detective at the Raccoon City Police Department, but the training was subpar. Any case that goes through this department is almost guaranteed to go unsolved. It’s not the station's fault, but the lack of funding and resources that has led to its downfall.
You’re up to your neck in cold case files. And crime that needs any sort of investigation is immediately your obligation. You’re a one person department and absolutely set up to fail.
When the FBI finally shows interest in the series of murders taking place throughout the city, you’re honestly relieved. Anything to ease your heavy workload. But it all changes when you meet him.
Agent Leon fucking Kennedy.
He’s a cocky bastard who undermines your department, which is solely you, constantly. He is unimpressed with the investigative work done on the case and won’t hesitate to insult your abilities as a detective.
And the man is basically untouchable.
He’s the FBI’s golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone in the station worships the ground he walks on because he’s here to save the town, like a superhero. He’s the best of the best and everyone is expected to tolerate him. No exceptions.
It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous. Always looking so well put together, a calculated appearance that never falters. Men and women alike gawk at the man. Whether they want to be with him or be him, you’d be stupid to not acknowledge it. 
A brown fringe cascading around his face. Pretty blue eyes matched with a prominent nose and jaw line, a dimple centered in his chin. Even the stubble lining his jaw is flawless. His eyebrows are knitted together in a permanent scowl. He looks like he despises the world and it makes him that much more enticing. 
And it pisses you off entirely. If he was just some mediocre, average looking man, it’d make hating him so much easier. But of course the jackass is incredible. It makes you wanna pour acid in your eyes just to give you your peace of mind back. Seeing is believing, right?
Without a single break in the case and no solid leads, you’re happy to take a step back from the case. It doesn’t mean you don’t care, but the crime rate in town has been steadily rising and you know you can help better elsewhere.
You walk into the station on what you thought was a typical Tuesday morning. But you’ve barely made it through the front door when you’re met with chaos.
People are running around, coming in and out of the station. The noise level is atrocious and has you wishing you’d caught the fucking plague because it would be less exhausting than this.
You barely make it five paces into the station when one of the coworkers you actually bother with appears at your side.
“It never stops, does it?” Jill says breathlessly.
You shake your head before replying, “What’s going on now?”
“Wait, you don’t know? Shouldn’t you be the first to know, actually?” She stops dead in her tracks, which in result causes you also to abruptly stop.
“Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have no idea.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face her.
She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “They found another body early this morning. Everything matches up with the previous ones, so it’s basically confirmed to be one of his.”
“Another body? This will be his tenth fucking kill.”
“Thank God we got the FBI on it then?” Jill quirks an eyebrow at you, causing you to roll your eyes in response.
Jill is one of the few people seemingly in the world to not care for Leon’s bullshit. She can’t stand the man and isn’t afraid to voice it. She’s your number one defender and isn’t shy about arguing with the dreaded FBI agent.
“Maybe he’ll finally be good for something other than making my life a living Hell.”
Jill reaches out and squeezes your shoulder as she shakes her head. “But at what cost? Let’s hope the sweet, tender boy can magically solve the case and fuck back off to wherever he flew in from.”
Another coworker comes up and pulls Jill away from you. As she marches away behind the man, she turns and waves at you. You hate that you instantly wave back, but it’s Jill. You’ll look like a dork over and over for her sake.
You lower your hand and sigh, but before you can even begin walking again, a presence takes shape beside you.
“What are you doing?” An unmistakable snarky voice calls out to you. Your muscles instantly tense up in his presence, like your body is physically rejecting him and his aura.
You scoff as you begin walking again. “None of your business, Leon.”
You’re annoyed when Leon meets your big strides, keeping up with you pace for pace. You both remain silent as you quickly arrive at your office door.
You go to close the door behind you, but Leon pushes past, welcoming himself into your office. You’re frozen in place for a second in your confusion, but you quickly snap out of it and sink into your desk chair.
“What’s up?” You fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair. Being around Leon is exhausting and you can already feel this conversation draining you.
Leon doesn’t take a seat, instead choosing to stand tall above your desk, looking down at you.
“None of your business.” Leon mocks you in a shrill voice. 
“What’s up?” His eyes meet yours, locking in an intense stare.
“You need to address me properly. Agent Kennedy, not Leon.”
You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden authority in his voice. When he doesn’t speak up again, it prompts you to instead.
“Okay. But I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly too, Agent Kennedy.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
You quirk your head to the side, shocked by the pure audacity of this man. The audacity to demand respect when he can’t even give it. It’s infuriating.
“Well, Leon, I don’t appreciate being disrespected in my own-“
“Earn it.”
You shake your head in exasperation at his interruption. Yes. Infuriating is the best word to describe this man.
“What?” You release a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the few words exchanged.
“Respect is earned. Earn respect and you will receive it.”
“You haven’t earned-“
“I’m the FBI’s best asset when it comes to convicting serial killers, not to mention all of the side work I’ve done in homicide prevention and precaution. I’ve earned goddamn respect and I expect it, no exceptions.”
He slams his hands down on your desk, causing you to jump, your chair screeching across the floor as you put more space between you two.
Your voice is shaking as you throw your hands up in the air, “Fuck! Okay! Sorry, Agent Kennedy.”
He gives you a final death glare before backing up and causally stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. It remains silent as you two stare across the room at each other.
“Anyways, I needed to talk to you.” He finally sits in the chair and your shoulders visibly relax. You hate yourself for being so visibly nervous in his presence currently, but it was out of your control.
“What about?”
He clears his throat. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but my bosses have instructed me to take you under my wing. Teach you what I know. And it’s my obligation to follow those orders and I think it’s in your best interest to do so as well. It would be very beneficial to you.”
Your eyes fall closed as you barely manage to hold back a groan. Your head falls back, scalp connecting with the back of your chair.
“You just made detective, correct?”
You sigh and look back up at him, “Yeah. Not even a month ago.”
“Then let me help you. There’s no one here to train you on how to be a good detective, a good investigator. I know a thing or two. You just have to let me help you. Also, it’ll be better on my conscience if I leave here confident in this station's sole detective.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m being serious. I have a lot to teach and you have a lot to learn. You’d be stupid to not take full advantage of this opportunity.”
You remain silent, lost in your own thoughts. You were confident with your abilities as a detective. Confident with your capability to solve cases, but he has the experience that you don’t. But he’s also Leon Kennedy and that alone is almost enough to make you say fuck no.
“How many people have died at the hands of this killer? That we know of so far.”
“9 I believe.”
“10 after the discovery this morning. And there could be more we don’t know about. You don’t wanna solve this case? Wanna bring this sick fuck to justice?”
“Well, of course-“
“Then work with me. How many more innocent people need to die?”
You release a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. We have a deal or whatever.”
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Weeks have passed and Leon’s arrogance has only gotten worse.
The belittling, the undermining, just everything he does has you raging. You’ve given up on helping with the investigation because anything you do is scrutinized. You found a solid piece of evidence that could have easily been looked into, but he rejected it and told you to disregard it.
No matter how hard he tries to make you feel like it, you’re not an idiot. You’re a great detective and nothing about this situation is right. His behavior, his attitude, his methods of operation are all suspicious as hell, so how could you not look into him?
You’re not exactly sure what you were looking for. Maybe a sign that he was taking credit for work he didn’t actually do? Or maybe a sign of him planting evidence?
Why couldn’t you have just minded your goddamn business?
You’re the only two left in the station, working late on the case. To say things are tense is a fucking understatement if you’ve ever heard one. 
“Can I ask you a question, (Reader)?” 
Your head shoots up from your computer screen. The way he says your name has chills running down your spine, has you struggling to swallow. 
“Um, yeah. What’s your question?” 
His elbows are on the table, his chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone is accusatory and it confuses you.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” 
“Don’t play stupid.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why were you looking into me?” He brings his hands down to the table and leans in closer to your side of the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 
Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. “What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t?”
He snickers. “Answering a question with a question. Classic. But I’m not interested in beating around the fucking bush, so how about you just tell me what you were looking for.” 
You take a deep breath before straightening your spine and feigning a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “Okay. You’re suspicious as fuck. And I don’t trust you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“And what did you find?” He snaps at you. You don’t understand why he’s taking such offense to a detective doing detective work? He didn’t anticipate this? 
“Nothing. I didn’t find anything.”
“And do you still have your suspicions about me?”
“Yes.” You answer his questioning immediately. You’re not sure what compels you to do so, but your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I still don’t understand why you act the way you do.”
He looks away from you, pulling a file out of his briefcase and flipping through the papers inside of it. “What were you hoping to find?”
“I-” you’re once again stumbling over your words. No one has ever made you so nervous, no one has ever triggered your flight or fight as much as he does. Alarms are constantly going off in your head about him and you hate it. “I just wanted some answers.”
“Then fucking ask.” He slams the folder shut and tosses it down the table. “Ask me your questions. Don’t be a baby about it, going behind my back to find them. You’re a big girl. If you want answers, come and get them.”
“Why are you such a dick?”
“Because I can be. Next question.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Obviously.”
“We’re getting nowhere. Nevermind.”
“Wait!” You yell at him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as he goes to stand up. “I’m sorry. You just piss me off.”
He pulls his wrist from your grasp with a disgusted look, but he doesn’t get up from his chair. He stares at you silently, which means he wants you to speak up. He’s so fucking entitled, you have to refrain from going off on him for the billionith time. 
“Why do you brush me off constantly? I bring you solid, concrete leads and you treat them like they’re nothing. You’re leaving so many loose ends. We’re not any closer to solving this case. Why?”
He hums at you like your question is invalid. You don’t know what you expected. Of course he was just going to be a prick like he always is. 
“That’s your perspective on it. A false perspective, but one nonetheless.”
“What does that mean?” The offense is obvious in your voice. More belittling, more brushing off your valid concerns. Of course. Of fucking course.
“Because I’ve followed every last lead and every little piece of evidence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”
“Bullshit!” You’re both surprised at your outburst. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t stand the lying and fucking diversions anymore. “I’ve been watching you, Leon. I haven’t seen you investigate shit. You pick and choose where you pay attention. This is the FBI’s very best? It’s fucking pathetic.”
He keeps his expression blank and neutral. “Anything else?”
“Yes, actually. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck it is you do that’s so fucking incredible that you’ve solved so many cases. Are you taking credit for other people’s work? Are you planting evidence? That’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re an opportunist. It’s like you’re just silently waiting to find the perfect person to blame. Is that it? You frame people to make yourself look better? What is it?”
Your voice is desperate and it’s genuinely embarrassing. But you are desperate. And you don’t wanna sit by anymore, not with the terrible suspicions constantly plaguing your exhausted mind. 
“You think I’m covering up for serial killers? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s not that fucking farfetched.”
“Why would I do that?”
You let out a noise of frustration, “I don’t know! To make yourself look better? Everyone worships you for the work you’ve done. Maybe it’s for the praise and glory, to stroke your ego.”
He smirks at you and it only enrages you more. 
“You told me to ask you questions!” you yell at him, “Now give me fucking answers!”
“I don’t give a shit what people think. You think I would cover up for serial killers to make myself look better? That’s stupid.”
“Then maybe you have another reason!”
“Like?”
“I don’t fucking know! For all I know, you’re the serial killer and you just frame people to cover your own ass. Your job would be the perfect guise wouldn’t it?” It’s just word vomit pouring from your mouth at this point, but something about what you’ve said has Leon jumping to his feet.
Before you even have time to react, he’s leapt across the table. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing you back in your chair until you go crashing to the floor. You cry out in pain as your skull connects with the ground.
Your vision is fuzzy from the impact, but you slowly blink your eyes until they focus back in on Leon’s body hovering over yours. With the grip he has on your throat, you can’t speak. All you can do is look up at him and the unhinged expression on his face.
Leon shifts and there’s a sudden sharp, burning pain in your neck. Your arms shoot up and your fingers connect with the syringe in your neck. Your eyes widen in fear.
“Good detective work, baby. You’ve figured it out. Congratulations! You found your guy!” His smile is huge and combined with his crazy eyes, has you shaking beneath him.
The muscles in your body quickly start to tingle as you lose control of them, slowly going limp beneath him.
“Goodnight.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pass out.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
You’re awake, your eyes are open but your brain still isn’t able to process anything. You stare blankly as you try to actually wake up. The room is a blur and you can hear a voice calling out to you, but you can’t make out what it’s saying.
Sudden white hot pain has your consciousness finally catching up with you. You’re gasping for air as you finally take in your surroundings. 
The room is dirty, trash littering the floor around you. The only object in the room is a chair on the other side of the room.
“Good morning. Thought that’d wake you up.”
You push yourself up into a sitting position as Leon appears in front of you. He gently pats your head causing you to cower away from him, but he just laughs at you and walks over to the chair. Every step he takes makes a loud crunching sound as his shoes connect with the debris covering the floor. The only cleared spot is the space surrounding you, just enough for your body to lay in.
You try to speak, but all you can manage to do is cough. Leon sits leisurely in his chair as you struggle through your coughing fit.
The second it passes, while you’re still gasping for air, you call out to him, “Wha-what are you doing? What do you want?”
“Crawl to me.”
You look at him like he’s insane, and in all honesty he is, but he only smirks at the look you’re giving him. He leans back in his chair so casually, legs spread open as his left hand dangles between them. It pisses you off that he looks so good like this. Maybe if he hadn’t just kidnapped you, you would be more willing to appreciate how good the view definitely is.
“I said, crawl to me.” His voice is filled with venom as he points to the ground between his legs. He cannot be fucking serious right now.
You look at the stretch of floor between you two. It’s littered with broken glass and who knows what else. It’s obviously been intentionally spread around. This house may be old and abandoned, but the sharp shards are too clean and perfect to have been sitting here long at all. 
He wants you to crawl through shattered glass on your hands and knees to him. Kidnapping you wasn’t enough. Having complete control isn’t enough, he has to exercise it.
“Leon…” you struggle to find the right words, because what are you supposed to say? It’s obvious that you don’t want to crawl across this fucking floor. “Please don’t make me-”
You gasp as your body goes tense from a sudden, unfamiliar pain. It feels like several wasps just stung your neck, and as quick as it hits, it’s gone. 
Your muscles finally loosen and your hands shoot up to your neck, feeling some sort of rough fabric with a rectangular plastic box at the front of your throat.
“What the fuck is this?” Your voice is strained, still panting as you try to recover from the pain.
He chuckles at you. “You will address me as sir and you will crawl to me.”
Your fingers are still fiddling with the device strapped to your throat, trying to find some way to take it off. But it’s complicated not being able to see what you’re doing. Just when you think you might be able to slip a finger under the tight, firm fabric, the pain comes back.
The stinging pain is more intense this time and longer. You’re about to collapse, unable to keep yourself in a sitting position, when the pain once again subsides. 
You can’t stop the tears pouring down your cheeks, body still shaking and in shock from the intensity of the pain to your neck.
“Now. Stop fucking with your collar and crawl to me.” 
Your head shoots up to him at his choice of words. “Collar?”
He licks his lips while a look of amusement lights up his face. “Yes, dumb little bunny. A shock collar. To help you behave.”
The hand that’s been lazily lying between his legs flips around to reveal the remote in his palm. Your eyes widen as your pain riddled brain slowly catches up to the present. A fucking shock collar. He put a shock collar on you like you’re some fucking dog.
“Crawl. To. Me. Now.” He spits out angrily, his tone sending chills down your spine.
When you don’t make any movement, he makes a big show of fiddling with the remote. Taunting you, warning you. 
You let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, shit okay. I’ll crawl to you.” 
“Crawl to who?”
You push yourself up on your knees and lightly bring your palms to the ground, gently sitting them over top of the shattered glass. “You, sir. I’m going to crawl to you, sir.”
He relaxes in his chair once again at your answer, seemingly pleased with it. “Go on then. What’re you waiting for?” 
You take a few deep breaths, attempting to will yourself to move forward. You know you have to do this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make the first move.
“Unless you need some more motivation. We could make good use of that collar.”
Your eyes shoot up and look up at him pleadingly, “Please, no.”
“Then fucking move.”
Leon’s patience is completely gone and you don’t want to see what other lengths he’s willing to go to to punish you. 
You reach out with your right hand and your right knee slowly follows. You hiss out as your skin connects with some of the shards.
“That’s it, being such a good girl right now.”
Your breathing stops for a moment as a blush creeps up your neck at the praise. You’re so mad at yourself for your body’s reaction to his words. This is already fucking humiliating, how much worse can it get?
You move your left hand forward, breathing through the pain as it connects with the floor and your left knee follows. You’re going slow, being careful not to cut yourself up worse by being hasty. 
You move your right hand carefully, blood already spilling from the cuts and onto the glass covered floor. It’s making shards stick to your skin and making everything that much more slippery. 
Your right knee connects with the floor, right as the stinging pain returns to your throat. The sudden shock has you digging your knees, hands, and toes in the floor, heightening the pain you were already in.
The pain in your neck is once again gone and you’re left shaking and sobbing as blood puddles around your hands and knees.
“You know how to crawl. Go faster before you piss me off.”
You don’t know why you’re surprised he wants you to crawl faster, causing worse damage to your body. Of course he does. Why would you ever expect to be granted mercy?
You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. At least you won’t have to see the glass you’re crawling into.
You’re still crawling fairly slowly, but a lot faster compared to your previous pace. You’re whining and groaning in pain and you feel the glass embedded deeply in your skin connect with even more glass. Your lower legs and toes are dragging glass behind you.
You feel the burning pain throughout your hands and legs, but you focus on moving your body forward. 
“Open your eyes.”
You ignore his demands. You’re doing what he’s asking of you and he has the audacity to ask for even more.
“Look at me when you crawl to me. I will not tell you again. Unless you’d like another… shock of encouragement.”
You raise your chin up from your chest and shakily look up at him, opening your eyes. He smiles at you for listening to him and you wanna rip his fucking face off.
Your heart sinks when you realize you’ve only crawled half way so far. The pain is absolutely nauseating and you’re choking down the bile that keeps rising in your throat. 
You begin crawling once again, vision blurry from the tears that are continuously falling.
All you feel is the agonizing pain as you force yourself to Leon’s blurry figure. You’re on the verge of passing out from the pain when you finally place yourself between his legs.
He runs his fingers through your tangled hair, almost soothingly. And you want so badly to jerk your head away, to run from his movements, but you can’t help but give yourself over to the gentle touch. His comfort somehow pulls you back down to Earth from your pain induced robotic state.
“Show me your hands, bunny.”
You go to push yourself up but red hot pain rages through your hands and knees, causing you to scream out in pain. Your body goes to collapse from the sheer exertion, but Leon is quick to catch you, steadying you and forcing you on your knees with your wrists in his hands.
You’re shaking as the glass embedded into your knees is forced deeper into your skin beneath your newly distributed weight. You take deep breaths as you adjust to the new level of pain. Bile fills your mouth, but you’re able to force it back down, the burning sensation of it only adding to your misery.
Your eyes open again after shutting in response to the pain. Your vision clears and you find Leon studying your destroyed hands.
Blood is still oozing from your countless wounds, shards of glass sticking out of your palms and fingers. Your hands and forearms are covered in blood, you can barely see your skin tone through the mess. Your hands are unrecognizable. 
He tsks as he continues to look over them. “These are useless to me now. Shame.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words, not sure what the implications of his words are. He releases your wrists and you let your hands fall limply into your lap. When his hands move to his belt and he starts unbuckling it, you gasp and try to move away from him but are instantly met with sharp shooting pains in your legs from your injuries.
You’re stuck in place and there’s nothing you can do about it. Anything you could possibly need to do will require Leon’s help. Just how he planned it. 
Rope, duct tape, or any other typical restraints are so boring. Glass being embedded into your skin as you sit in your own blood? Now, that’s new and fascinating. You’re a cute little test subject for his vile thoughts and ideas.
He slides the zipper down his pants and you finally look down at what he’s doing. 
What the fuck? He’s hard, not just hard, but really fucking hard and about to pull his dick out right in your face.
Your throat is raw from your previous wailing so your words come out scratchy. “What, what are you doing?”
“Oh, baby… Look how hard you’ve made my cock. It’s only fair that you let me cream that tight, hot throat in return.”
“What?”
“Oh don’t be such a fucking prude.” He rolls his eyes as he stands before you, sliding his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out, his tip poking your lips. You attempt to pull your head back, but his hand is quick to grab onto your hair and push your face into his cock. You’re frantically trying to turn your face away from him, but it only has him gripping your hair impossibly tighter.
“Now, now. You don’t need another shock of encouragement do you?”
“N-no. Please.”
“Then start sucking. And don’t try anything smart because I am more than happy to shock your annoying little ass again.”
Before you can even prepare yourself, he’s pressing his fingers into your cheeks and forcing your mouth open, immediately shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You’re instantly gagging. And you’re already so close to throwing up that you’re certain you’re going to puke all over this man's dick.
“See, princess? You don’t want me to do it my way. So fucking behave and don’t stop until I’m creaming that fucking mouth.”
He pulls his dick out and you’re immediately running your tongue up and down his tip. You’re ready to do anything to keep him from choking you like that again. 
“Make me cum in less than two minutes and maybe I’ll consider sparing you.”
You suck his tip into your wet mouth, the taste of his precum flooding your taste buds.
“There ya go. You’re so hot, all dirty and bloody for me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum so fast. Pretty bunny has such a good mouth when she’s not running it.” He chuckles at his own words as you quickly bob your mouth up and down on his dick.
“Just like that. You ready to taste me, baby? Need to cream this throat.”  He speaks quickly as he starts to thrust, meeting every bob of your head. His grip in your hair tightens as his hips still and he holds his tip against the back of your throat.
You resist the urge to gag and cough as you feel his cum fill your throat. You think he’ll never be done when he finally pulls himself from your mouth and stuffs his cock back in his pants. He refastens his belt and turns to walk away, but stops and looks down at you.
“Here.” He grabs your shoulder, causing you to gasp, as he pushes you down to the floor, until you’re laying on your back. “I’ll spare you.”
And then he’s quickly leaving the house, confident that you’re not going anywhere anytime fast. You realize you’re in less pain being off your hands and knees and breathe a sigh of relief. Your weight is distributed better over the glass, so your back and legs only tingle and sting slightly.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
You’re not sure how much time passes as you drift in and out of sleep, but when the front door finally opens, you can’t mask your excitement at Leon finally returning.
“Leon?” You call out in a happy, relieved voice.
“Hi, bunny. How are you doing?” His tone is lighter than you’ve ever heard it before and it fills you with hope.
“I’m gonna piss my pants, can you take me to the bathroom?” The back of your legs are getting badly cut up because you can’t keep your body still as your bladder throbs and aches.
“Sweetheart, you’re so silly.”
His tone is mocking. “What?” You're obviously confused and it has him shaking his head.
“That’s not my problem.”
“I can’t get up.” You whine out, praying he’ll give in and help you.
“I know,” he coos at you, “You’re gonna have to just piss yourself then. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here and watch.”
“What?” 
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. It hurts so much.”
“And you know exactly what will relieve you of that pain don’t you?”
“But I can’t get myself up.”
“That’s too bad.”
You’re so fucking confused. You don’t understand what his game is here. It has to be about control, the humiliation it’ll bring you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try your best to pretend this isn’t happening, but the pain is only getting worse and worse.
“Bunny… Just relax. You’ll feel better if you just relax.”
“Fuck no, Leon. No fucking way.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes!” You open your eyes and give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to lay on the floor in my own blood and piss! What’s wrong with you?”
He smiles as he shakes his head, “You don’t have a choice, baby.”
You don’t know what to say to him. What can you say? Beg for his help? Hope he actually cares? It’s all so useless. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and clenching every muscle in your body. This is so stupid, so fucking stupid.
“You really want my help?” Leon breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts.
You look up at him once again, “Please.”
“Okay, I’ll help you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s going to help you, there’s some sort of hope. If he can find it in himself to help you now, maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe everything will fall into place.
He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a familiar remote. Your eyes widen in shock, realizing what he’s about to do. “Wait, Leon, don’t-”
But you aren’t even able to finish your statement before the shocks are shooting into your body and every muscle tenses up in resistance. A few seconds feel like minutes before the pain stops and your body goes limp on the ground. Every muscle in your body softens.
Before you can even process what’s happening, before your mind even comes back to yourself, you register a warmth growing on your thighs and ass. The warmth spreads further as you come back to yourself.
The second you realize what’s happening, you wish you’d remained oblivious. You try to stop it, but your body is so weakened that you have no more control. 
You lay on the floor in your dried blood mixing with your hot piss. You’re no longer peeing, but the humiliation has tears welling up in your eyes.
The liquid starts to cool quickly in the chilly air and it has you shivering on the floor. It has you wishing you were dead.
Suddenly, Leon’s petting your head and hushing you. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Did such a good job for me.”
Your eyes dart up to his face. “What?”
“So pretty like this. All wet and helpless.” Your thighs clench together at the praise, furthering your humiliation. Leon notices immediately and smirks down at you. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”
You whine as he lifts you in his arms. You’re slack in his arms because of the extensive injuries to your body. You feel your piss soaked body pressed against him and knowing your piss is getting on him makes you wanna vomit.
But that’s not the only thing you feel. This time it’s a lot less surprising, but doesn’t make things make any more sense. His erection pressed against your ass and you don’t have the energy to point it out or try to push yourself away from it.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Thankfully, not a whole lot of glass is embedded in the skin of your back, so you can happily lay in the blankets piled on top of the mattress without causing yourself any more pain.
You lay with your arms against your sides, avoiding making contact with your hands. Every time you look at your hands, your stomach twists and turns at the deformed skin. They’re cut to shit and glass shards stick out haphazardly all throughout the skin.
“Are you comfortable?” Leon asks as he runs a cold, wet washcloth across your forehead.
“As comfortable as I can be.”
“Good, good.” Leon gets up and walks across the room. You let your eyes fall shut, your body crying out for blissful sleep.
You hear Leon’s footsteps approach your bedside, not bothering to open your eyes. You’re not even sure you could open your eyes if you wanted to.
“Baby, keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” You nod as he softly caresses your cheek, pushing your hair from your face. 
“Can you stick your tongue out for me? I got a surprise for you.” You hum in response, too tired to question him. But you couldn’t help the hope growing in your stomach at the thought he might finally give you some water or food.
You lol your tongue out as far as you can and feel him grab it with his thumb and pointer finger. He grips it tightly. You’re not sure why he’s doing it, but once again, you’re too exhausted to question him or resist it.
“This will be quick.” 
You make a “huh” sound as best as you can with your tongue in its current position, and that’s when you hear a disgusting snip sound followed by squelching. 
You start screaming as excruciating pain sets in. Your screams are cut short as you start choking on your own blood, the liquid pouring from the wound and slipping down your throat.
Leon grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a sitting position, allowing the blood to pour down your chin rather than your throat. Your body is shaking from the pain, you’re on the verge of passing out, feeling the darkness creeping up on you, awaiting to consume you completely.
“There you go, baby. I got rid of the thing that causes you the most trouble. You’re perfect now.”
Your tears pour down your face, mixing with the blood coming from your mouth. You look down at the bedspread in front of you and the sight of your severed tongue has your vision going foggy. You let out one final cry before passing out from the pain and blood loss.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
It’s been fourteen years, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. You relive those events every fucking day of your miserable existence. It doesn’t help that you have optimal time to think about it in your small prison cell on death row.
Of course he handed you over to the police with some elaborate story on how he found you out and when he confronted you, you went crazy and mutilated yourself. And of course, you can’t properly defend yourself, considering he took your fucking tongue. You could write out your claims of innocence over and over, but how could you possibly convey it with words alone?
Leon framed you for all of the murders. Planted all the evidence at your apartment and in your car, “finding” all the overlooked leads in your office. It was a pretty open and shut case. Took the jury less than an hour to find you guilty and for you to get sentenced to death.
Tomorrow’s the day. You’ll finally get the lethal injection and be free from your own personal purgatory. You’re confined to a prison cell by yourself 24/7 considering if you show your face outside of it, other inmates are instantly on you. You’re America’s most brutal female serial killer, how could they not want to kill you?
It’d be too easy if the prison would just let the other inmates go through with it. Just put you out of your misery and throw your body into the prison’s graveyard. But no. No amount of suffering will ever be enough to pay for “your” crimes.
You hate yourself. You look at your unrecognizable, mutilated hands and all you can do is sigh as you slip one down between your spread thighs to relieve the ache you feel between them.
In your line of work, you were well aware that trauma could cross wires in your brain. You can’t control your trauma responses. But the fact that your pussy is always soaking wet when you think about his dick in your mouth and the praising words he spoke to you is torture in itself.
You try to think of anything else, anything else at all. Even when your fantasies don’t revolve around that man, you can’t get yourself off without thinking of what he did to you. 
As you lay in bed, shirt stuffed between your teeth to silence your sounds, you feel your climax grow closer and closer and his face above you is all you can see. And no matter how many times you go over it with yourself, telling yourself it’s a trauma response, you know the truth. You know that deep down you loved what he did to you and the only thing that makes you so angry is the fact that he put you here.
Here in this cold, lonely cell to waste away for the rest of your days. Leaving you with a heart, soul, and cunt that aches for him. You know what he’s done and you hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.
And as your wetness runs down your fingers, coating your palm in the proof of exactly what he does to you, all you can think about is that fucking day. You’re going to die tomorrow and here you are touching yourself to the man that put you here.
Your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess in your threadbear sheets on your paper thin cot. It’d be so much easier to hate him, but you have the curse of hating yourself instead. 
Tomorrow you will die and pay for your crimes. And maybe the crimes you’ll be dying for aren’t yours, but you still deserve to pay for being so fucked in the head. So you’re happy, almost giddy to be dying tomorrow. 
Maybe you’ve gone mad, or maybe you were always mad to begin with and it took him coming along to pull it out of you. Either way, not like it fucking matters. You’ll still be dead and he’ll still be a free man. But you caught the killer and for that, you’ll always be a good fucking detective. 
~masterlist~
461 notes · View notes
zepskies · 3 months
Text
Smoke Eater - Part 19
Tumblr media
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
🔥 Series Masterlist
AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️
Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…
Tumblr media
Part 19: “Sacrifice”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.
“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.
The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”
Tumblr media
Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.
“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.
“I think you know, son,” the man replied.
Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.
Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.
Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.
“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”
Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”
“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.
But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.
“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”
Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.
His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…
Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.
Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He was fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.
“You have her with you?” he asked.
“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”
Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”
“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”
“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”
Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.
He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”
Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.
“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.
“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”
Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.
“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.” 
It all gripped Dean at once.
Panic, anger, and desperation.
He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.
“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”
Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”
There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.
Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.
“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.
“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”
All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.
“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.
“You fucking bastard,” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”
John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.
“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.
While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.
“Anything?” Sam asked.
“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.
Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.
By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.
“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.
“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.
It was the wrong thing to say.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”
Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.
John’s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.
“You’re right,” John said. His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.
Again, not by much.
“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”
Tumblr media
Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.
Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.
John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.
“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”
“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”
Nick, for you. That was the deal.
“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.
Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”
“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.
Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.
“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”
“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.
“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”  
“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”
Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.
He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.
Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.
Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.
“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”
Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.
“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”
Nick pretended to shiver.
“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.
“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”
Three shots rang out in the open clearing.
All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.
Tumblr media
Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.
John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)
The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.
One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:
JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.
Tumblr media
Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.
It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side. 
Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.
Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.
He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.
He heard a whimper.
Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.
Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.
He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.
“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.
“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.
Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.
Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.
“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”
John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.
“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”
“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”
“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.
Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”
John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel’s chest.
“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said. 
“Small price to pay for ending your miserable life,” John remarked.
Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”
He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.
His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.
“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.
“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”
John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.
Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.
“Don’t!” you said shakily. 
John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.
Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.
“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”
He tilted his head down at John.
“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”
John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.
Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.
Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.
And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.
“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.
“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.
Tumblr media
The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.
Above all things, Dean was a man of action.
He just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.
“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.
“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.
"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.
Tumblr media
There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.
Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.
Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.
Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.
“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.
“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.
“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.
“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.
Tumblr media
Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.
Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.
Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.
There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.
John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.
What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.
However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.
And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.
John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.
Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.
Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.
While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.
Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.
“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.
Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”
He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.
“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.
“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.
“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”
Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.
“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”
Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.
“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.
“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.
“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.
“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”
Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.
“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”
Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.
He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.
The gun was heavy in his hand…
“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”
Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.
You could guess which one.
Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.
Tumblr media
Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.
You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.
You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.
You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.
Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.
He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.
On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.
One…two…
An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.
He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.
Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”
You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.
You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.
You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.
He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.
“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”
Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.
It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.
Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.
Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.
Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.
His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.
And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.
Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.
You gasped and raised your head.
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”
Tumblr media
Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.
You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.
“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”
Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.
“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”
“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”
Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.
“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”
You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…
Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.
Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.
It let Dean make his way straight for you.
Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.
When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.
You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.
“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.
“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.
“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”
“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.
The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.
Though he already knew what Sam would say.
Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.
Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.
Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.
Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.
“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”
You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.
“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.
“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.
“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.
Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.
“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.
“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”
He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.
You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.
But for now, this was a good start.
Tumblr media
AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗
Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...
Next Time:
“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.
“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.
Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.
Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...
Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways
Tumblr media
334 notes · View notes
Text
Grinning Like a Devil
Tumblr media
Matt Murdock x Reader
Words: 3539
Summary: Matt and the reader tease each other relentlessly at work. What happens when they discover that it’s more than just harmless flirting? One night of one too many drinks may prove just that. 
Notes: Some of my favorite Matt edits are to the song ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift, and while I didn’t totally want to do another song based imagine for it (I have a different one for him in the works), I really love this cute little line for him. Plus I really need to write more fluff for him because everything is so angsty. This is, as so much of my fluff, a total mess, so I hope you guys enjoy. 
More Matt imagines: HERE
-
“And that’s three for me and… oh yeah, none for you,” you smirked, leaning on your pool stick. 
“Isn’t there some kind of rule about making fun of the blind guy?” Matt chuckled. 
“Matty, we both know you could have kicked my ass hours ago.” You shook your head and stepped towards him. “Stop toying with me and play.” 
Matt leaned towards you. 
For a second, you were afraid he could hear your heart racing in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach resuming their painful, wild dance. You faked a cocky laugh, letting him know you weren’t backing down. 
A grin formed on his lips. “Okay.” 
The next break landed three stripes. His next series of shots landed two more. You were right about one thing- he was perfectly capable of kicking your ass. The end of the game yielded only one shot for you while he swept the table. Hell, looked so bad for you, that you were half tempted to cheat and point him at the wrong ball. Somehow you felt he would know. 
Matt put up his pool stick and took yours with a smile. You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 
He chuckled. “You asked for it.” 
You snapped out of your awestruck state and laughed. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time.” 
He paused and his smile shifted into a smirk. “Next time?” 
“Oh, that was just round one, Murdock. One of these days, I will beat you fair and square. Without you going easy on me.” 
He held out a hand. 
You took it. 
“Challenge accepted.” 
The touch sent a pleasant shock up your arm. His finger traced along the back of your hand as he pulled away, grazing your knuckles. Your breathing hitched and another smirk spread across his face. 
Bastard. 
“I’m going to get another drink,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” 
You cleared your throat to stop from squeaking. “Surprise me.” 
He nodded and headed back to the bar. You had to lean against the pool table to stop your knees from shaking. This was stupid. You saw Matt every day. 
But the way he smiled at you…
“Here.” Matt handed you a tall glass of a dark liquid.  
“What the hell is that?” You laughed through your grimace, holding the drink up to the light. It was clouded and hardly allowed any of the neon to shine through. 
Matt shrugged. “A surprise.” 
“You’re terrible.” 
“Oh, but you love me,” he teased. 
“Whatever.” You took a drink and immediately regretted it. The burning liquid traveled down your throat like black tar and despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t hold back the coughs. 
Matt laughed and sipped his perfectly normal beer. 
“Shut… up…” you sputtered. 
He kept laughing. It sent a surge of idiotic courage through your chest. 
You tapped the bottom of the glass against the pool table, took a deep breath, and gulped down the rest of the foul drink without breaking. You swallowed back the disgusted coughs and touched the empty glass to his chest. 
“Is that-” You winced at the taste still lingering in your mouth. “The best you’ve got, Murdock?” 
Matt chuckled and shook his head, setting the glass aside. You take a step forward on wobbly legs and stumble. His arms shot out to catch you and held you up against his chest. 
You both froze, dizzy from more than just the alcohol. 
“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he breathed. 
Having you this close, he didn’t need his hearing to know your heart started to race. And he knew, with your hands pressed against his chest, you could feel his too. 
“That’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, finding your footing again. 
The break of contact left a hollowness in his chest. His hand found your arm, both to steady you and to fill the space the lack of your touch had created. 
You closed your tabs and he insisted on paying, despite your protests. 
“After that toxic waste you downed, it's the least I can do,” he said. 
“Celebrating anything specific?” Josie wondered. Her eyes shifted curiously between the two of you and she gave you a smirk. 
Your face reddened. 
“We won a pretty major case today,” Matt explained with a smile. “The big bad land developers were defeated all thanks to Y/N’s investigating skills.” 
“Are you kidding?” You scoffed. “You and Foggy did all of the real work in that courtroom.” 
“Work we couldn’t have done without you.” He squeezed your hand. “Give yourself some credit. Without you, we’re just a couple of guys in suits and no case.” 
“Hey, don’t sell Foggy short,” you snorted. “He does all the real lawyering while you  stand there and look pretty.” 
A sly smirk spread across Matt’s face. “Pretty, huh?” 
“Goodnight, Josie,” you said, trying to hurry away, but Matt’s hold on your arm remained. Standing this close, his laugh vibrated through you. 
You walked out together into the chilly February evening. The brisk air bit at your bare arms, having forgotten your jacket in the office. You tried not to shiver. 
“Here,” Matt said. He slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. 
“Thanks.” 
You tried not to think about how the fabric smelled like him- like cedarwood and leather. 
Matt kept his hold on your arm, less to guide himself and more to keep you from tripping on something. The heat of his fingers on your skin radiated throughout your body. You tried to keep your breathing normal, but it was like the air was getting thin. That last drink really was a bad idea. 
By the time you reached the door of your apartment, you were sure your flesh was burning up. You desperately dug through your purse, feeling the dread build up more and more as you searched. 
“Shit,” you muttered. 
“Everything okay?” Matt asked, brows furrowed in a way that was far too adorable for you to handle at the moment. 
“I, um,” you gulped. “I can’t find my keys. I must have left them at the office. Damnit.” You smacked your hand against the door, hitting it a little harder than you meant to and wincing.
Matt took your hand in both of his, holding you steady. “Hey, it’s okay.” 
“No it isn’t. You walked me all the way here and now I can’t get in and it’s too late to try to call me landlord and-” Your intoxicated brain spiraled into all of the things you’d done wrong that evening that led you to this moment. 
Getting drunk with the man you were in love with being numero uno. 
You started to hyperventilate. 
Matt put your hand against his chest so you could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart as he breathed. He took a deep breath, indicating for you to do the same. 
“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just calm down,” he said softly. “Can you do that?” 
You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and nodded. 
“Sorry,” you said, sheepishly dodging his gaze. “Sometimes drunk-brain turns into anxiety-panic-brain and I have moments like that.” 
“You don’t have to apologize,” he smiled. Matt let go of your hand but kept hold of your arm. “Why don’t we just go to my place? It’s just a few blocks away. We can pick up your keys tomorrow.” 
Your heart leaped into your throat. 
“Like… spend the night?”
Matt gave you that famous smile. “I’m flattered, Y/N, but I’m afraid you would be taking advantage of me,” he teased. 
You shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 
-
It wasn’t like you hadn’t been to Matt’s apartment before, but this felt different. Maybe it was that horrible, horrible drink still making your brain a little fuzzy, but the neon lights of the billboard outside lit everything in a beautiful, color-changing glow. 
The two of you sat on Matt’s couch and talked for what felt like hours. About nothing, about everything, about you, about him. 
“So I go every year now to commemorate the occasion,” you said confidently
“You have an anniversary for falling off of a swan boat in Central Park?” He snickered. 
“It was a formative moment in my childhood!” 
Matt held up his hands. “Okay, fair enough.” 
“When’s the last time you just took a walk?” You asked, leaning a little closer. “You know, stopped and smelled the roses? In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slow down.” 
Matt swallowed and didn’t answer. You had a point. 
“You have to let yourself live, Matt. You can’t go around trying to save everyone.” You leaned closer, eyes falling to his lips. 
Matt drew in, unable to stop himself. How long had he thought about this? How long had he thought about telling you? When he thought about slowing down, he wanted to do it with you. You made him want to want to have a life. 
He pulled away. 
“I think you should probably get some sleep.”
You jerked back. 
“Right,” you said. “Thanks.”
What the hell had you been thinking? 
“I’ll sleep out here,” Matt said. He stood up and went to a cupboard in the hall. 
“Matt, you are not giving up your bed because I forgot my keys.”
“Too late, I already grabbed clean sheets.” 
“Matthew-”
“Y/N, really, it’s fine.” He said and from his tone, you knew there was no winning. Besides, you were embarrassed enough. Did you really just try to kiss him? You didn’t even feel drunk anymore, which you didn’t know if that made it better or worse. 
You hurried into Matt’s room and tried not to think about the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, under his covers, blanketing you in his scent. 
This whole night was starting to feel like a mistake. 
Matt listened to your heartbeat and felt the heat rushing to your face, kicking himself for making you feel like you’d done something wrong. He’d have to talk to you in the morning, when you were both sober, so you could have no doubt that what he wanted to say was true. 
You both went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach and thoughts of each other in your dreams. 
-
You woke up to a killer headache and the smell of coffee. You felt the sheets around you. Silk. Definitely not yours. 
The memory of the night before started to come back to you. 
Oh. God. 
You were at Matt’s apartment. 
You slept in his bed. 
You tried to kiss him. 
And he was outside the sliding door, right now. 
The floor was cool against your bare feet, your legs shaking as you tried to walk silently to the door. You slid it open just a crack. Just to see where he was. 
Matt was walking around the kitchen, most of his frame hidden by the open fridge door. 
You stepped out of his bedroom. If you could just sneak to the door…
“Morning,” he greeted cheerily, closing the fridge door and giving you a bright smile. “I made you some coffee.” Matt held up a steaming mug with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might need it.” 
You winced. “Right. Thanks.” 
Matt could feel your skin getting warmer, as well as the churning of nausea going through your head. 
“How are you feeling?” 
“Super.” 
Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I felt the same when I woke up. Hence, coffee.” He took a drink from his own mug. 
There was a long, unbroken, and horrifically awkward silence between you. Why couldn’t you have one of those hangovers that obliterate any memory from the night before? Why couldn’t you get the image of him pulling away from you out of your head? Why did you have to try to kiss him? Why did you have to ruin everything?
“I should go.” 
Matt blew out a low sigh. “I’ll walk you home.” He moved to stand, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 
“I think I should go by myself,” you said quickly. If you stayed any longer, you would start to cry and you couldn’t do that in front of him. 
“Y/N-” Matt started. 
“Thank you for letting me stay, but I have some stuff I want to get done before we have to get to the office.” 
Matt heard your heart racing. He could hear the edge in your voice. 
He’d hurt you and he hated himself for it. He wanted the chance to fix things, but at the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make it worse. 
“I’ll see you there, then,” he said quietly. 
“Yeah, uhuh, right. Bye, Matt.” You scurried out of the door, forgetting your jacket and your purse but being far too embarrassed to go back in for them. As long as you had your keys, you would be fine. A fresh change of clothes and a cold shower. That’s what you needed. 
Once you forced yourself to get ready for work, you actually had to go to work. Which meant facing Karen- who knew all too well your crush on your boss. And worse, it meant facing Matt again. Maybe you could get away with avoiding him. 
You could not. 
When you got to the office, Matt was there, perched on the edge of your desk with your bag and jacket in hand. 
“You, uh, forgot these,” he said, giving you an awkward half-smile. 
Karen sat at her adjacent desk and raised a brow. 
You took your things and put them on the desk, feeling that all too familiar rush of blush to your face. Thank god he couldn’t see it. 
Matt nodded and walked to his office, letting his hand graze your shoulder as he went, hoping it would be a comfort, but when he heard your heartbeat rise, he realized it was probably a mistake. 
How could he show you that what happened last night, the reason he pulled away, was not what you were thinking? 
The day passed agonizingly slowly, but at least Foggy and Matt kept busy enough that you were able to avoid him for the most part. You couldn’t bear the pitying half-smile he gave you so you made sure to stay with Karen, looking over cases and organizing facts about clients. 
Matt was going mad, flipping through papers and listening to Foggy read off statements. All he could think about was the hurt in your voice and how he was the reason for it. 
“Uh, earth to Matt,” Foggy said, snapping his fingers. “You there buddy?” 
Matt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” 
Foggy leaned over the desk with a slow, teasing smirk. “I think I know what’s going on.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You finally made a move on Y/N. Didn’t you?” 
Now it was Matt’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“Oh come on, Matt,” Foggy exclaimed. “I saw it from the minute she wandered through our doors. You like her.” He poked Matt’s shoulder, prompting him to shrug away and stand. This, of course, was all the answer Foggy needed. “Oh my God you do like her!” 
“Foggy-”
“So what happened? Did you guys go on a date?” Foggy raised a brow. “Did you do more than go on a date?”
Matt went silent. 
Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, did she reject you?” 
Matt ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what happened.”
“Don’t tell me that you rejected her.”
“That’s not what…” Matt grimaced. “It wasn’t like that.” Because of course, he liked you and of course, under different circumstances, he would have liked to do a lot more than kiss you, but he couldn’t unless he knew that it was really what you wanted and not what the liquor was telling you to want. 
“Well, whatever it was like, you better fix it,” Foggy said, walking to the door. “Because you do not want to let that one get away, my friend.” 
The rest of the day passed painfully. You were avoiding him and he was trying to figure out how to make you stop avoiding him. It didn’t help that Foggy kept giving both of you painfully obvious hints, worst of all being when he asked Karen to help him run an errand, clearing his throat loudly as he passed Matt’s door. 
You kept your head down, looking over client files and incident reports. Anything to take your mind off of the way his arm felt around your waist. His breath on your cheek. You came across a file that had a recorded statement. Shit. it must have gotten put with your things by mistake. 
You swallowed, stood, and made your way to Matt’s office. 
“I think this is probably for you,” you said softly, standing in his doorway. “I don’t usually listen to the statements.” You swallowed again, your throat feeling dry. “I just look into who you tell me to.” 
“You do more than that,” Matt said, shaking his head. Why did you always downplay your importance? Could you see how much you meant to this place? To him? “Y/N, stay for a second. Shut the door please.” He took off his glasses.
You froze under his unfocused gaze, feeling him watch you in his own way. 
“Is something wrong?” You gulped. 
Matt gave you a small smile. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me all day.” He motioned for you to sit beside him on the edge of his desk. “I think we should probably talk about last night.”
“W-what… I don’t…” You stammered, staying where you were. “I didn’t think there was anything to talk about.” 
Matt raised a brow, motioning again to the spot beside him. 
You hung your head and shuffled to stand beside him. 
“Now,” he said softly, “will you please talk to me? It’s been driving me insane all day not being around you.” 
“What do you want me to say, Matt?” You sighed. Emotion crept its way into your tone. Embarrassment. Heartbreak. “Things took a turn. We stopped. We went to bed. What else is there?” 
“What else is there?” Matt huffed, turning to fully face you. His hand reached for your arm. “Y/N, I did what I did because you were drunk. I didn’t think-”
“It’s okay, Matt.” You didn’t look at his face., at his dark eyes that managed to see you better than anyone ever had. “You don’t have to explain. You were just being kind. You let me stay because I was too drunk to open my own damn door. And I appreciate that, but please,” you grimaced at the memory of him pulling away from you. You shrugged away his hand. “Please just drop it.” 
You moved to leave.
Matt stood in your way. 
“I won’t just drop it,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Don’t you get that I can’t?” He grabbed you by the shoulders, not letting you go this time. “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 
You blinked. “W-What?”
This wasn’t real. This was another trick of your mind. Surely you weren’t still drunk. 
“I have wanted a night like last night since you first walked through those doors,” he admitted, listening to your heart as it started to race. He gave you a small smile, hoping to calm you down. To convince you that what he was saying was the truth. “But I had to make sure that it’s what you really wanted. Not because of some awful drink I dared you to drink or because you felt like you owed me.” 
“Matt…” You trailed off. Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he sense that you’d wanted the same thing ever since you first saw him? 
“I just,” he sighed, “I need you to know that.” 
You didn’t know what to say. Any words that formed on your tongue died before they could make it out of your lips. 
Matt heard your heart pounding. He heard your fingers tugging on the bottom of your shirt- a nervous tick he’d noticed your first day. He let his head fall. He’d made things worse. 
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, grabbing his cane and heading for the door. 
You didn’t think. Thinking had so far gotten you nowhere. Instead, you grabbed his arm, pulled him back around, and crashed your lips into his. 
Matt stumbled back in surprise but only for a moment. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 
Both of you stepped, him forward and you back, his body pinning you against his desk, his arms moving around to hold you up against him. Your hands traveled up his chest and into his hair. 
This was happening. 
You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 
“This is happening,” you gasped, unable to stop yourself. 
Matt just grinned. He gave you that ridiculous, intoxicating, devilish grin. And it melted you. 
“Do you want it to keep happening?” He asked cheekily. 
You didn’t answer and pulled him back to you.
292 notes · View notes
chelseeebe · 8 months
Text
deadly.
Tumblr media
summary: tagging along to a gig could never be a bad idea, could it?
smut 18+, steve is a cocky bastard and this basically a rehashed y/n goes to a concert and the lead singer falls in love w/ her from the wattpad days it is incredibly self indulgent lol
an: erm so i apologise for not posting in what feels like forever but a series of things happen (i lost and then subsequently survived the great war and got taylor tickets), my dad is in hospital (he's okay!) and i have written a 10k+ the bear au with eddie (lemme know if u want that) that has occupied my mind so i have excuses ok
‎♡‧₊˚
It’s slightly difficult to believe that you weren’t utterly enamoured with Steve Harrington the first time you laid eyes on him. You felt like the odd one out, surrounded by a gaggle of screaming, adoring fans. 
You liked the music enough, so when Jen had suggested getting the tickets, you were completely up for it. 
You had just never expected for the night to end like this. 
Jen had been hand plucked from the crowd for some after party, the security guy had eyed you up and down, shrugged and just muffled a quiet whatever when she asked if you could go along. 
There was a small group of other girls being ushered into the intimate room of the club, all looking incredibly similar. Buzzing with excitement, barely able to contain themselves when they saw the band lounging on the velour chairs. It just all felt incredibly forced and you knew exactly what the end goal was. 
The room is murky, full of girls chattering, trying their hardest to grab the attention of at least one of the guys. 
And yeah, maybe it was a little cool but you were tired and knew you’d end up having to find your own way home as Jen was gone. She’d wriggled her way onto the couch next to who you think is the drummer, batting her eyelashes and flashing him that signature pout that meant he was putty in her hands. He’s her usual type, long floppy hair.. the brooding kind. 
“You not having fun?” a voice mutters into your ear, barely audible over the thumping music. It’s Steve, or the frontman, still in his stage get up with a cup of something in his hand. 
“Oh, no I am.. I’m just tired,” playing it off with a small smile. You were not about to cockblock Jen and get the pair of you escorted out with your resting bitch face. 
He nods, eyeing the undrunk glass of champagne in your hand, it was warm now, undrinkable, “you don’t drink?” 
“Ah..” you do drink, just not open drinks that had been shoved into your hand by some barman the second you walked in here, “I just don’t… and don’t take offence, I don’t take open drinks from strangers,” baring your teeth in an awkward smile. 
Steve laughs out loud, envying girls snap their heads in your direction, he takes the flute from your hand, “yeah that’s smart, you want another one? We can both watch him pour it,” motioning towards the bar. 
You had desperately wanted another drink, just too shy and self-conscious to make a scene out of pouring this one away to do anything about it. Nodding graciously as you both stand from the cramped couch, walking up to the bar with daggers in your back. 
“What’re ya’ having?” his eyes heavy on yours, leaning across the bar to get the man’s attention. 
“What are you drinking?” 
“Whiskey,” shaking the cup in your direction. 
“Ooh maybe not,” scrunching your nose in disgust, peering over the bar at the collection of liquors they had. Basically, a bunch of expensive shit you didn’t recognise. “Can I just get a vodka lemonade?” shying away at your incredibly basic pick. 
“Classic,” Steve nods, eyes on you but yours are glued to the bartender, watching eagle eyed as he fills the cup. 
“You’re supposed to be watching too,” raising your brows with a smug smile, you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. 
He scoffs, grinning to himself, “I think you’ve got that covered,” not once lowering his gaze. He’s confident, cocky even. Worlds apart from the usual guys you’d encounter, pathetic yet arrogant in the way they spoke to you. 
You take the drink with a smile, the bartender walks away to the other end of the bar with so much as a grunt in response. 
“I haven’t- I need to pay,” finally meeting Steve’s eyes again, baffled by the entire interaction. 
His eyes glint with amusement, shaking his head, “not here.. it’s all paid for,” it’s endearing to him, perhaps he’d got used to girls just already expecting it. 
“Wow..” your mouth contorting into a perfect ‘O’, “well, thank you for the drink,” sipping out of the straw with a smirk. If you’d known, you would’ve taken full advantage way earlier. 
“Well that’s my pleasure, d’you smoke?” rustling in his pockets for the pack of cigs, leaning over to your height. 
You eye the box, “only socially, but if they’re someone else’s cigs then yes, definitely.” 
He bursts into a cackle, “well let’s go then,” placing his hand on your elbow, leading you through the room and out of the side door, passing the prying eyes of the other girls. You weren’t dumb to what was going on, any of those girls would jump at the chance to get led out of a club by Steve Harrington. 
It’s chilly outside, your body shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. He hands you a cigarette, lighting his own and flashing a quick thumbs up to the large security guard who had taken it upon himself to stand blockading the door. 
“Is this something that happens every night?” you ask cautiously, honestly not wanting to offend but rather curious about the answer. 
He nods, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth, “most nights on tour, yeah,” his lighter in his palm ready for you to take. 
“Hmm.. right,” lighting your own cigarette, running your thumb over the engraved metal. Peeking down at the cursive lettering, O.H. Passing it back to him without any questioning. 
“You gettin’ jealous already?” one eyebrow quirked up, you’re thankful that he doesn’t take offence. 
“Yeah totally,” playfully rolling your eyes. Hundreds, if not thousands of girls had been in your exact position before and yet you still found yourself getting giddy over his flirty words and infectious smile. Sickening. “Is it always like this? You don’t get tired?” 
He cocks his head to the side, “sometimes yeah, but those boys in there are dogs yanno? Bad influences,” smirking as his lips part to exhale. Effortlessly sexy with his eyes hung low, heavy as they refuse to leave yours. 
“Oh and you’re not?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny..” holding his hands up in innocence, closing the gap between you. 
Pressing your lips together, focusing on the cigarette in your hand rather than his obvious advances. If you were going to be another notch in his bedpost, you were going to make sure he worked for it. 
“It’s crazy because I just don’t believe you,” matching his smirk, taking another sip of your drink. It was becoming increasingly harder to resist his caramel tinted eyes and the gorgeous eyelashes that hung over them. 
“Well,” he remarks, stumped by your stubbornness, “I guess I’ll have to prove it to you,” throwing the butt off into the distance somewhere. His hand reaching out to find your elbow once more, “shall we go in?”
You nod, dropping your own half-smoked cigarette, walking back into the crowded club with his hand resting on the small of your back. Falling into the first empty seat you could find, his large thighs squishing into the tiny section next to you, brushing against your scantily clad legs. 
My God, if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now. 
-
You chatter away all night, his lips brushing against your ear, feeling his breath over your cheek sent shivers down your spine. 
Jen had already disappeared, flashing you a very reassuring nod before being bundled out of the club with her emo dream boy trailing closely behind. 
It’s late now yet there were still hoards of girls milling around, hoping for one last chance with whoever was left. You’re pretty sure they had got the memo that Steve was simply not interested, watching as he hung off of your every word, passing you drink after drink while sipping on his own with intent eyes. 
You hadn’t expected him to really care about your life but he had asked all the right questions, talking about your job and going back to school. Shit that you were sure he would forget the second you left. 
The security guard from earlier comes over and whispers something into Steve’s other ear. He just nods before placing his hand on your shoulder, leaning into your ear, “I’m gonna go back to my room now,” sitting forward in the extremely cramped chair. 
Your heart sinks a little, as shameful as it is, you’re a little disappointed. Attempting to quickly figure out how you would now get home without Jen. 
“You wanna come with?” 
Head pricking up at the question, staring at him for a brief moment before nodding. His pink lips curling into that smirk you’d become accustomed to. Smug and enchanting all at the same time. 
You’re bundled into a car, security guards speaking in low voices to the driver, you can vaguely hear the word paparazzi be mumbled and then a bunch of directions. It’s all a bit too much, Steve is serious as sin sat next to you in the back, listening intently to whatever the security guard was mumbling into his ear. 
You sit in amazement, contemplating if this maybe wasn’t the best idea until the door slams shut and the car sets off. Steve turns to you, rolling his eyes as his hand creeps onto your knee. 
“Sorry.. apparently there’s paps outside the hotel so we’re goin’ the long way until they get rid of them,” sliding his hand north, squeezing onto your thigh. “We’re stuck in here for a little while longer, I hope you don’t mind?” the streetlights illuminating his face, remnants of his black eyeliner cling to his eyes. 
“Jeez..” blowing the air from your cheeks, “must be exhausting.” 
“I don’t mind it, I just don’t think my manager would appreciate waking up to the pictures.. ya know?” 
“Not really.. but I get it, you don’t wanna look like a whore in the media,” returning the smirk he had been giving you all night, shifting in your seat to see him better. 
“A whore? I prefer slut if I’m honest,” shifting closer, eyes lingering on your lips for entirely too long. 
“You could be both,” tongue peeking out to wet your suddenly parched lips, “it wouldn’t be a lie, would it?” 
His chuckle rumbles through his chest, “shut up,” free hand trailing upwards from his own lap to cradle your cheek, pressing his plump lips to yours with haste, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. 
Your fingers curl into the soft material of his shirt, pulling his chest to yours, leaning back against the hard plastic of the door. You sorta hoped the paparazzi would linger a little bit longer just so you could stay exactly like this. 
-
It’s a grand hotel room, they definitely had not skimped on the budget here. Nothing at all like the budget rooms your family had forced you into on vacation. It takes a moment for you to completely take in the entire room, a standard of elegance that you’d never seen before. 
“You’re like.. rich rich then,” gawping at the tall ceilings like a child in a candy store. 
Steve chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, pulling your attention from the grand decor and back to him, “I’ve seen better.. d’you want something to drink?” motioning towards the stocked minibar. 
“Please,” you remark, eyeing the sheer amount of variety in the tiny bar. 
He pauses, coming around to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed, “kiss me and you can have anything you want,” lingering fingers on your hips. 
The corner of your mouth twitches, “anything?” widening your eyes at the prospects of his proposition. 
“Anything.” 
-
You must’ve dropped off to sleep at some point as you wake back up to the feel of Steve’s hand on your ass, thumb playing with the lace band of your thong. He’s leaning against the headboard in quiet reflection. The bedside lamp is still on and you’re not sure if he ever slept. 
“Do you ever sleep?” you ask groggily, shifting to face him with heavy eyes. His hand clamps around your thigh, startled by your voice. 
“You scared the shit out of me,” turning his head to face you, the cold metal of his ringed thumb presses into your soft thigh, “can’t sleep.. happens sometimes after a show,” shrugging slightly. 
Sometimes is an understatement. He hadn’t had a full night's sleep in God knows how long. Becoming accustomed to the shoddy hours he did manage to catch. 
“Oh,” suddenly feeling guilty that you were here and potentially disrupting him, “I can go.. let you get some sleep,” looking up at him through your lashes.  
“No no no no, stay.. stay,” pulling your leg over his waist, hand running up and down the supple skin, “it’s nice having someone here.” 
You pull your body closer to his, shifting your weight to sit in his lap, knees positioned either side of his hips. This wakes him up entirely, moving up the bed to sit up, large hands gripping onto your waist. 
“Oh? This is what we’re doing now?” he teases, clapping a mild slap to your ass cheek causing your cunt to brush against his already-growing bulge. 
“Apparently so,” you snigger, glancing at the thin cotton of his boxers, they weren’t leaving much to the imagination, perfectly outlining the shape of his cock. 
“Well great because I love this,” smirking as you clasp onto either side of his face. Carefully placing your lips on his, your tongue slipping past his liquor stained lips. 
Mindlessly beginning to grind yourself down against him. He’s uttering a bunch of nonsense into your mouth, bucking his hips up to chase the feeling of your cunt against him. 
“Fuck,” he grunts, hurriedly trying to slip his boxers down without making you move. Steve’s animalistic in the way he yanks your flimsy panties to the side, fisting his dick in the other. The sight alone makes a pathetic noise form in your throat, practically drooling over him.  
“C’mere baby,” he instructs, thumb expertly holding the lace aside as you sit up on your knees, guiding himself through your folds and into your cunt, exhaling sharply as you slide down. 
It takes a moment to adjust, he was cocky but fuck, did he have a reason to be. The tip of his cock already nudging uncomfortably close to your soft spot. 
“You take me so well,” he proclaims, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 
His words make you choke, joining him in looking at the space between your bodies. Feeling just about ready enough to move. 
There’s a short knock at the door just as you begin to bounce, pausing with his dick still buried deep inside. Clutching onto his shoulders, sharing a disdainful look for whoever was looming on the other side. 
“Nghh, what?” he calls out over your shoulder, sending daggers through the wood. 
“Bro, you gotta condom in there?” the voice calls out, low, desperate. 
You shift slightly, repositioning your knee and the sight movement is enough to have his fingernails dug into your hip, “holy fuu- no I don’t,” pupils dark as they flit from the door to yours.  
That’s your cue to keep going, moving your hips up before slowly sliding back down, his cock filling you to the hilt. Biting down onto your bottom lip to keep from moaning though you’re certain whoever is on the outside isn’t clueless. The tour t-shirt you had slipped on is gripped between his fingers, pulled up your torso, exposing the supple skin. 
“Aw fuck man, you’re no help,” the voice complains, banging the door one solitary time before skulking off, presumably to go and bother someone else for a condom. 
Your lips twitch into a smile, throwing your head back as your hips gain pace, soft whimpers floating from your slack mouth. His hands are rough and commandeering as they hold onto your waist, setting the rhythm even when he wasn’t on top. 
Steve growls, legs propped up as he begins to thrust upwards, trailing his callous palms down to your hips for better leverage. It’s then that you allow him full control, falling into his chest with your fingers knotting into his hair. Tugging at the caramel tinted tufts as this new position catches your neglected clit against his pubic bone, drawing a long cry out of your throat. 
“You feel so- mmfuck, so good,” he squeezes out, quickening his pace, filling the room with the sinful sounds of skin on skin. His adam's apple bobbing up and down as his orgasm nears, sharp fingernails leaving red semi-circles in your skin, trying so desperately not to cum then and there. 
He dares to look down at the space between you, the image of you wearing his shirt with his cock buried deep in your cunt makes him twitch, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt not to collapse. 
“Right there,” you mewl into his ear, fast approaching your own orgasm, thighs becoming spent as he mercilessly slams into you from below. 
It takes everything not to bite down on his tanned shoulder as your orgasm crescendos, desperate cries filling the room as you shudder around him. Sweaty palms now palming at his shoulders for some reinforcement as your legs give way. 
Steve follows shortly after, sloppy final thrusts as your name echoes the tall walls, surrounded by a chorus of fucks and shits. His chest heaving, pulling you closer into his chest as he melts into the pillow. Graciously still supporting your weight with his large hands while your head still reels. 
“You good?” he sighs breathlessly, drawing your face from his neck with a gentle tug of your hair, pulling your attention back to him. 
You nod, smiling lazily as you sit upright once more, readjusting the lace thong that had been slung to the side. Pulling his boxers up his thighs without once breaking eye contact. 
“Why don’t you just come on the rest of the tour with me?” 
A giggle ripples instinctively, he probably said the exact same to every other girl that had been in this position alongside that same heavy, longing gaze he was flashing you. Christ, it probably worked on a few of them too. Give it a few more minutes and you would be convinced right along with them. 
“I’m serious,” he blinks, tracing circles onto your hip, still completely enamoured with the way his shirt fell on your body. 
“I bet you say that to every pretty girl you fuck,” still refusing to take him seriously, shaking your head at the ridiculous notion. You weren’t sure exactly how long he had been famous, but you were sure he wasn’t that out of touch with reality yet, right?
“Only you,” hands travelling to your bare thighs, “come with me,” thumb tapping a short rhythm onto your skin. 
“You don’t even know me.” 
“Well I want to, a tour bus is a great place to get to know someone,” he remarks, grinning. 
Dawn now creeps in between the hastily shut curtains but you don’t dare to break eye contact. Dropping your hands from his shoulders as you ponder. 
“I have a job and a house and bills and I don’t think they’d let me take that much vacation,” attempting to shut him down despite the fact his tactics were clearly working on you. 
Endless possibilities run through your mind.. you could quit and beg for your position when you get back.. you’re sure Jen would look after your house, in fact she’d be very enthusiastic about you going and would probably volunteer. 
“Fuck it..” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours, “how much is your rent?” 
“Steve..” 
“How much?” 
“Four eighty.” 
“Easy, consider it paid,” he relents, staring up into your eyes through his thick black lashes. The flecks of gold that ran through his iris’ were persuasive enough to get you to just quit your job and run off on tour with him. 
You sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It would be totally and utterly stupid and irresponsible of you to do this but how could you ignore the niggling feeling in your brain that would never ever disappear if you didn’t. 
“You’re being serious?” 
“Deadly.” 
529 notes · View notes
bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
monday, kim jiwoong — advanced drama
Tumblr media
⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.
⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ monday summary: it's monday, the first day of the school week. you're excited for your advanced drama class, but not too keen on the person you're always forced to run into there. suave, charismatic, repulsively arrogant: kim jiwoong lives to make your life just a bit harder. and lucky you: today he's your scene partner. ⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific warnings under the cut! angst. lighttt dub-con. bullying. jiwoong plays romeo, that should be a warning for the faint of heart. the smut is fairly light in general. it's only monday guys, we have to survive six consecutive days so let's pace ourselves, ya know? ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: fingering/heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.
Tumblr media
˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦ 
“an exciting day today, as always,” professor lee announces from the center of your chair circle.  “we’ll be performing a series of famous two-character scenes in the second half of the class and you’ll have the first half to prepare with your scene partner.” 
all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.
your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you. 
“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly. 
you scowl. even knowing all the hell that kim jiwoong and his rat bastard friends have caused you this entire year, mina persistently eyes the inconveniently beautiful man with googly eyes through every class. 
curious as to how the man himself is reacting to today’s assignment, you steal a glance in his direction: a terrible mistake. jiwoong is leaned back in his chair, one shoe resting on the opposite knee in a cocky, relaxed position. his hair is pushed neatly behind his ears, fashionable brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater tucked into his belt— arms crossed over his chest. 
skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.
staring right at you.
you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.
“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”
mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.
“the first scene will be from bonnie and clyde. caroline-sshi will be reading for bonnie,” professor lee calls as he pulls the first slip of paper out of the jar, followed by the second. “and ichan-sshi will read for clyde.”
there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence. 
“for our second scene, we have an excerpt from medea,” professor lee says, reaching into the glass jar. “the role of medea will be played by… mina-sshi. and the role of jason will be played by…”
mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.
“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.
the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.
“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”
nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?
you dare to steal another glimpse at jiwoong. he’s sitting forward now, legs spread apart with his forearms resting on his thighs— focusing on his hands as he waits. you truly feel sorry for the chump that has to spend the next forty minutes alone with him.
“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”
oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.
he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.
“while the romantic blocking written in several of these scenes is technically optional,” professor lee says, holding up his hands as if to calm the nervous energy in the room. “it plays an important part in the emotional integrity of the character dynamics. only do what you’re comfortable with, but consider why a stage direction is written and do take it seriously.”
professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.
“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”
“KISS HIM!?” you shout, driven by pure shock and disgust. nearly everyone in your class turns to look at you, but you’re too disturbed to care. it was a ridiculous question. there’s no way jiwoong would ever lower himself to kiss you. besides, he’ll be too busy using his mouth to insult you the whole time. 
but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?
“thinking about me?”
the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface. 
looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you,  a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”
“explain to me again how you made it into advanced drama with those piss-poor acting skills?” jiwoong huffs, knocking into your shoulder with his as he brushes past you towards the door. when you don’t follow him, he turns around and glares at you expectantly. “did you forget how to walk or something?”
you shake your head silently and run after him out the door. a gap of at least a couple feet forms between you and jiwoong as you struggle to match his determined stride. “um, where are we going?”
“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”
you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.
as you finally reach the side door to the auditorium, jiwoong opens it and lets it swing before you can step inside. it nearly slams into your nose until you catch it with your elbow at the very last second.
“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”
you inhale deeply, trying your damnedest to not let him get to you yet. you still had thirty-nine long minutes to go. shaking your head in response, you follow him up the stairs and onto the stage. there’s some larger set pieces currently in use in preparation for the winter play; a corner tableau with walls occupies stage right.
jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”
bending down carefully in your short skirt, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.
“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”
you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.
“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”
your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances... 
“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”
“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.
jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges. 
you take advantage of this, reading through the script carefully and marking the blocking lightly from your fixed position on the stage. as you recite your lines, your ears burn red at what becomes clear to you: the scene is, for lack of a better word, sexy. juliet is a young virgin who is absolutely taken with the charismatic, handsome romeo. he desperately wants to kiss her and then some and juliet wants the same— though she has to feign that she doesn’t because of female fragility or some other bullshit, antiquated principle.
“if i profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” jiwoong reads, your heart dropping to your stomach. he makes an agonizingly convincing romeo: charming, witty... gorgeous.
why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?
“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,” you read your next line softly, attempting to steady your nerves as your script shakes between your fingers. “and palm to palm is holy palmers’… k—... kiss.”
jiwoong feeds off of your hesitation, a dangerous smirk darkening his features. this scene is evoking a visible reaction out of you and he’s as aware of it as you are. setting his script down on the hardwood stage floor, jiwoong recites perfectly, “have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”
“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”
he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”
“don’t come any closer,” you warn again, a little more conviction this time but still not enough to stop his perpetual motion. you try to move, but your feet are frozen to the floor. at least, you assume they are. that’s the reason you’re not moving, right?
it has to be.
jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly. 
“if you come any closer, i’ll—… i’ll tell professor lee,” you threaten in panic. he’s just a few inches from you now and you can smell his sharp, spiced cologne. “i’ll tell him everything you’ve ever said to me, you absolute... TWAT ROCKET!”
“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? where’s my stick-up-her-ass, goody two-shoes when i need her, hm? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”
you did not want to fail today’s assignment. jiwoong bullying you through your whole rehearsal wasn’t exactly helping your chances, but there was hardly an available remedy for that. the only way forward was to just try to be the bigger, more professional actor. sighing resignedly, you read your next line: “ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”
jiwoong somehow comes closer still, hovering over you like you’re a moth he plans to ensnare in his deadly flame. he raises his hand to your cheek and you flinch, expecting some sort of dull impact. you open your eyes when there is none. when your eyes meet his, jiwoong lifts his index finger— brushing it against your bottom lip as you stand there, unblinking in your shock. “o, then, dear saint... let lips do what hands do.”
he tugs your bottom lip down slightly, running the tip of his thumb gently across the soft, wet inside. you’re screaming inside your head, but not a single sound makes its way out of your mouth. jiwoong has called you names, pulled your hair, left red rashes from twisting the skin on your arms for two years now...
but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.
“they pray, grant thou,” he continues his line, thumb trailing from your lips, past your chin and down your neck. you gasp when he stops at the collar of your shirt, not sure if you’re more disturbed by his audacity to do this or his audacity to suddenly stop. you curse the aching feeling that you now realize has been radiating from your heat since you stepped on this stage. how could your body betray you like this? 
jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all. 
continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over the curve of your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”
“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”
“how thick is your skull that i have to keep reminding you to read your fucking line,” he hisses, the harsh insult sounds just like honey to you. his eyes appear almost black, daring you to disobey him.
you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.
“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”
“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”
you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s middle and ring fingers find their way under your skirt and between your legs. a whimper escapes you as he finds the sensitive bud, bucking your hips slightly into his hand at the wave of arousal.
“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”
“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding into his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.
“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he shoves the damp fabric of your panties to the side. “really wanna fuck you.”
“jiwoongie,” you whine again, script falling from your hand and onto the floor. your arms wrap around his neck for support as your legs start to weaken. “i—… i think you were just supposed to kiss me.”
“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he takes his hand off your hip and starts to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”
“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.
“i can,” he grunts, flipping you around so that your chest is squished against the wall. his gruff hands push up your skirt and knead into your hips and ass as he admires your form. “fucking insufferable little angel. was hoping you’d secretly be a filthy slut. just for me though, right?”
though hearing jiwoong demean you would normally bring tears to your eyes, it’s intoxicating to you in this moment. it’s a scary, complicated feeling and the only truth you know falls from your lips: “i... hate you.”
“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sounds of your arousal growing louder and wetter against his fingers. he flips you back over to face him eagerly. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”
your lips part as you stare at the bulge in his pants, mouth watering slightly. to your surprise and horror, you really do want it. if you let this happen, the consequences you’ll face could be detrimental.
but in this moment, watching a wavy lock of jiwoong’s hair fall across his forehead as his middle finger starts to prod at your entrance: you want him— need him inside you. your brain is clouded; vision lustful and hazy. how much does jiwoong’s past treatment of you really matter?
“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium. 
“come fucking on,” jiwoong groans in frustration, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights. somehow it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you might get caught in the act. you start to struggle in jiwoong’s grasp, looking everywhere for a quick exit. he throws a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, shimmying your skirt back back down over your ass with the other. 
“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”
after running a smoothing hand through your hair for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.
“oh my god, (y/n)!” mina calls excitedly, running over to you. “how did it go!? where’s jiwoong oppa? did he kiss you? was it amazing? does he taste like smoke and cinnamon? are his lips soft like clouds?”
“mina, that’s enough,” you shush awkwardly, knowing full well jiwoong can hear everything she’s saying— undoubtedly smirking like a wild hyena, that bastard. coming out of your spell of lust, you shudder as the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. how could you let an asshole like him put his hands all over you— almost put himself inside of you? the only answer to all of mina’s questions you can manage is a truthful one: “we didn’t kiss.”
“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”
“what’s too bad?” jiwoong asks, stepping out on stage next to you. he hands you your script, tucking his own under his arm. you notice his belt is buckled again. “sorry, i was getting our scripts.”
“nothing!” mina answers much too enthusiastically. “everything’s so, so good actually. now that you’re here. i mean, because professor lee sent me here to find you. and i found you! so everything’s great. perfect, even.”
jiwoong chuckles, turning to you: a malicious glint in his eye. he bites his lip, one corner of his mouth upturning in a mocking smile. then, he turns back to mina before sitting down on the edge of the stage and hopping off. “you know, i really wish we could’ve worked together on this one, mona.”
“it’s mina,” you correct, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. yes, you could see very clearly now. this had all been a sick little game to jiwoong. and you’d fallen right into his trap. he knew you would.
“sure, whatever,” he says, dismissing you with a passive wave of his hand. throwing an arm around mina’s shoulder, jiwoong leads your best friend toward the side door of the auditorium that you’d entered through. “but, like i was saying... i think we’d have a lot of chemistry, muna. maybe you’d like to work more on developing that with me... outside of class?”
the door slams behind them, leaving you standing alone in the spotlight of center stage. your underwear is wet and uncomfortable; your heart races as you blink back tears. of course jiwoong would be cruel enough to use your best friend to deal the final blow.
and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines. 
yes, you’d let your guard down. but how were you supposed to know that something like that would happen? though jiwoong and his friends often made disparaging sexual remarks towards you, he wasn’t someone you thought would want to act on them. the biggest fear crosses your mind now: would he tell his stupid fucking friends about how much of a desperate whore you’d been for him just now?
mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route. 
at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.
˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦ 
Tumblr media
gender neutral version below
EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.
*also want to say that reader plays juliet in a RANDOMLY ASSIGNED scene during class. other people in the fic are assigned parts that are a different gender than they are. just wanted to mention this just in case it makes anyone uncomfy!!
Tumblr media
˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦ 
“an exciting day today, as always,” professor lee announces from the center of your chair circle.  “we’ll be performing a series of famous two-character scenes in the second half of the class and you’ll have the first half to prepare with your scene partner.” 
all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.
your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you. 
“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly. 
you scowl. even knowing all the hell that kim jiwoong and his rat bastard friends have caused you this entire year, mina persistently eyes the inconveniently beautiful man with googly eyes through every class. 
curious as to how the man himself is reacting to today’s assignment, you steal a glance in his direction: a terrible mistake. jiwoong is leaned back in his chair, one shoe resting on the opposite knee in a cocky, relaxed position. his hair is pushed neatly behind his ears, fashionable brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater tucked into his belt— arms crossed over his chest. 
skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.
staring right at you.
you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.
“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts completely at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”
mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.
“the first scene will be from bonnie and clyde. caroline-sshi will be reading for bonnie,” professor lee calls as he pulls the first slip of paper out of the jar, followed by the second. “and ichan-sshi will read for clyde.”
there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence. 
“for our second scene, we have an excerpt from medea,” professor lee says, reaching into the glass jar. “the role of medea will be played by… mina-sshi. and the role of jason will be played by…”
mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.
“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.
the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.
“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”
nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?
you dare to steal another glimpse at jiwoong. he’s sitting forward now, legs spread apart with his forearms resting on his thighs— focusing on his hands as he waits. you truly feel sorry for the chump that has to spend the next forty minutes alone with him.
“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”
oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.
he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.
“while the romantic blocking written in several of these scenes is technically optional,” professor lee says, holding up his hands as if to calm the nervous energy in the room. “it plays an important part in the emotional integrity of the character dynamics. only do what you’re comfortable with, but consider why a stage direction is written and do take it seriously.”
professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.
“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”
“KISS HIM!?” you shout, driven by pure shock and disgust. nearly everyone in your class turns to look at you, but you’re too disturbed to care. it was a ridiculous question. there’s no way jiwoong would ever lower himself to kiss you. besides, he’ll be too busy using his mouth to insult you the whole time. 
but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?
“thinking about me?”
the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface. 
looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you,  a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”
“explain to me again how you made it into advanced drama with those piss-poor acting skills?” jiwoong huffs, knocking into your shoulder with his as he brushes past you towards the door. when you don’t follow him, he turns around and glares at you expectantly. “did you forget how to walk or something?”
you shake your head silently and run after him out the door. a gap of at least a couple feet forms between you and jiwoong as you struggle to match his determined stride. “um, where are we going?”
“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”
you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.
as you finally reach the side door to the auditorium, jiwoong opens it and lets it swing before you can step inside. it nearly slams into your nose until you catch it with your elbow at the very last second.
“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”
you inhale deeply, trying your damnedest to not let him get to you yet. you still had thirty-nine long minutes to go. shaking your head in response, you follow him up the stairs and onto the stage. there’s some larger set pieces currently in use in preparation for the winter play; a corner tableau with walls occupies stage right.
jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”
bending down carefully, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.
“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”
you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.
“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”
your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances... 
“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”
“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.
jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges. 
you take advantage of this, reading through the script carefully and marking the blocking lightly from your fixed position on the stage. as you recite your lines, your ears burn red at what becomes clear to you: the scene is, for lack of a better word, sexy. juliet is a young virgin who is absolutely taken with the charismatic, handsome romeo. he desperately wants to kiss her and then some and juliet wants the same— though she has to feign that she doesn’t because of female fragility or some other bullshit, antiquated principle.
“if i profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” jiwoong reads, your heart dropping to your stomach. he makes an agonizingly convincing romeo: charming, witty... gorgeous.
why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?
“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,” you read your next line softly, attempting to steady your nerves as your script shakes between your fingers. “and palm to palm is holy palmers’… k—... kiss.”
jiwoong feeds off of your hesitation, a dangerous smirk darkening his features. this scene is evoking a visible reaction out of you and he’s as aware of it as you are. setting his script down on the hardwood stage floor, jiwoong recites perfectly, “have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”
“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”
he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”
“don’t come any closer,” you warn again, a little more conviction this time but still not enough to stop his perpetual motion. you try to move, but your feet are frozen to the floor. at least, you assume they are. that’s the reason you’re not moving, right?
it has to be.
jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly. 
“if you come any closer, i’ll—… i’ll tell professor lee,” you threaten in panic. he’s just a few inches from you now and you can smell his sharp, spiced cologne. “i’ll tell him everything you’ve ever said to me, you absolute... TWAT ROCKET!”
“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”
you did not want to fail today’s assignment. jiwoong bullying you through your whole rehearsal wasn’t exactly helping your chances, but there was hardly an available remedy for that. the only way forward was to just try to be the bigger, more professional actor. sighing resignedly, you read your next line: “ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”
jiwoong somehow comes closer still, hovering over you like you’re a moth he plans to ensnare in his deadly flame. he raises his hand to your cheek and you flinch, expecting some sort of dull impact. you open your eyes when there is none. when your eyes meet his, jiwoong lifts his index finger— brushing it against your bottom lip as you stand there, unblinking in your shock. “o, then, dear saint... let lips do what hands do.”
he tugs your bottom lip down slightly, running the tip of his thumb gently across the soft, wet inside. you’re screaming inside your head, but not a single sound makes its way out of your mouth. jiwoong has called you names, pulled your hair, left red rashes from twisting the skin on your arms for two years now...
but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.
“they pray, grant thou,” he continues his line, thumb trailing from your lips, past your chin and down your neck. you gasp when he stops at the collar of your shirt, not sure if you’re more disturbed by his audacity to do this or his audacity to suddenly stop. you curse the aching feeling that you now realize has been radiating from your heat since you stepped on this stage. how could your body betray you like this? 
jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all. 
continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”
“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”
“how thick is your skull that i have to keep reminding you to read your fucking line,” he hisses, the harsh insult sounds just like honey to you. his eyes appear almost black, daring you to disobey him.
you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.
“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”
“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”
you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s hand finds it’s way between your legs. a whimper escapes you as you buck your hips slightly into his palm at the wave of arousal.
“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”
“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding against his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.
“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he starts to tug at your waistband. “really wanna fuck you.”
“jiwoongie,” you whine again, script falling from your hand and onto the floor. your arms wrap around his neck for support as your legs start to weaken. “i—… i think you were just supposed to kiss me.”
“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he brings his left hand to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”
“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.
“i can,” he grunts, gruff fingers pulling down his zipper. “fucking insufferable angel. was hoping you’d secretly be filthy like this. just for me though, right?”
though hearing jiwoong demean you would normally bring tears to your eyes, it’s intoxicating to you in this moment. it’s a scary, complicated feeling and the only truth you know falls from your lips: “i... hate you.”
“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sound of your moaning growing less concealable. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”
your lips part as you stare at the bulge in his pants, mouth watering slightly. to your surprise and horror, you really do want it. if you let this happen, the consequences you’ll face could be detrimental.
but in this moment, watching a wavy lock of jiwoong’s hair fall across his forehead as his middle finger starts to prod at your entrance: you want him— need him inside you. your brain is clouded; vision lustful and hazy. how much does jiwoong’s past treatment of you really matter?
“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium. 
“come fucking on,” jiwoong groans in frustration, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights. somehow it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you might get caught in the act. you start to struggle in jiwoong’s grasp, looking everywhere for a quick exit. he throws a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.
“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”
after running a smoothing hand across the top of your head for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.
“oh my god, (y/n)!” mina calls excitedly, running over to you. “how did it go!? where’s jiwoong oppa? did he kiss you? was it amazing? does he taste like smoke and cinnamon? are his lips soft like clouds?”
“mina, that’s enough,” you shush awkwardly, knowing full well jiwoong can hear everything she’s saying— undoubtedly smirking like a wild hyena, that bastard. coming out of your spell of lust, you shudder as the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. how could you let an asshole like him put his hands all over you— almost put himself inside of you? the only answer to all of mina’s questions you can manage is a truthful one: “we didn’t kiss.”
“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”
“what’s too bad?” jiwoong asks, stepping out on stage next to you. he hands you your script, tucking his own under his arm. you notice his belt is buckled again. “sorry, i was getting our scripts.”
“nothing!” mina answers much too enthusiastically. “everything’s so, so good actually. now that you’re here. i mean, because professor lee sent me here to find you. and i found you! so everything’s great. perfect, even.”
jiwoong chuckles, turning to you: a malicious glint in his eye. he bites his lip, one corner of his mouth upturning in a mocking smile. then, he turns back to mina before sitting down on the edge of the stage and hopping off. “you know, i really wish we could’ve worked together on this one, mona.”
“it’s mina,” you correct, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. yes, you could see very clearly now. this had all been a sick little game to jiwoong. and you’d fallen right into his trap. he knew you would.
“sure, whatever,” he says, dismissing you with a passive wave of his hand. throwing an arm around mina’s shoulder, jiwoong leads your best friend toward the side door of the auditorium that you’d entered through. “but, like i was saying... i think we’d have a lot of chemistry, muna. maybe you’d like to work more on developing that with me... outside of class?”
the door slams behind them, leaving you standing alone in the spotlight of center stage. your underwear is wet and uncomfortable; your heart races as you blink back tears. of course jiwoong would be cruel enough to use your best friend to deal the final blow.
and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines. 
yes, you’d let your guard down. but how were you supposed to know that something like that would happen? though jiwoong and his friends often made disparaging sexual remarks towards you, he wasn’t someone you thought would want to act on them. the biggest fear crosses your mind now: would he tell his stupid fucking friends about how much of a desperate whore you’d been for him just now?
mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route. 
at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.
˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦ 
195 notes · View notes
Text
everytime I see a great marble hornets take I need to get slammed chest first into a locker (Stimming reasons I think it would feel nice)
like Vamp alex xWerewolf Tim? Hell fucking Yeah
They’re ALL trans? Absolutely (Jessica and Amy share e) (Tim uses Tgel) (Brian, Alex, Jay share the Tneedle)
Brian is a cocky bastard? Partly canon but when ppl up the cocky-ness I go insane
They all make out Gay style? Fuck yeah
Tim calling Jay Blue Jay as a nickname? *Sounds of car alarms emitting from my mouth*
Jay is autistic? YEAHHHHH
Alex is autistic??? YEAHFHFHGFH
They’re ALL autistic??????? *Eating cement(good thing btw)*
The hair/glasses theories for Alex??? YEAHFHFHHF
The operators skin is the suit??? YEAH!!!!!!!
The operator has a suit SPECIFICALLY tailored for it??? THIS IS SO GOOD‼️‼️‼️
Talk ab ur headcanons. They are not stupid unless you say they are. They r cool to hear and talk about and its nice to read others perspectives on the series and how they see the characters.
109 notes · View notes
svtcrus · 6 months
Text
───── `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 BABY LOVE ME EVENT SERIES
Tumblr media Tumblr media
SHUT UP & KISS ME || gojo satoru x afab!reader
SMUT , MDNI
note : oral (m recieving) , blowjob lol , rough play , hair pulling , degradation , lowkey toxic relationship(??) , not proof-read
synopsis : a heated argument turns into a heated resolution.
a/n : here we go part 2 with a gojo smutt. gotta go back to my roots ofc for my bae. sorry it took so long, studies are so ass.
Tumblr media
the room is ringing, screams of fury echo throughout the bedroom and nobody seems to be getting their side heard.
it's frustrating when satoru is only dense on the topic of love. he's a sweetheart, but he's also a jerk sometimes. a horny bastard albeit—does he even love you at this point?
"baby, I hear you loud and clear. just tone it down will you?" annoyance along with slight malice is seeping through his teeth, he's getting tired of this. constant fighting over this and that upon hours only to make up the next day. the reason behind such arguments are lost in the fragments of your memories.
satoru is really trying here. yet those stupidly pretty lips of yours are berating him—he's immature, how the thought of him being the strongest doesn't mean he's always safe.
he's really fighting it now, there's no way he's getting turned on from your anger. he just can't help himself. one half is telling him to stop, the other telling him the argument is long lost and it should be dealt with.
fuck it.
"shut up & kiss me." he seethes as those soft fingers of his grab you with force onto your cheeks. the grasp is pulling you into him, smashing his lips with your beautifully painted ones. it's a harsh kiss. you could practically still taste the anger through the lust, but it doesn't stop you from feeding into his desires. you already so tired from the screams and falsity.
it's ironic in a way that you find warmth and safety as he begins to completely encase you. the palms of his hands grab your face so roughly yet lovingly at the same time. tongues twirling, as he's nibbling at your top lip with low groans. with as much effort as you could muster, you're pushing satoru down onto the bed.
"mm..trying to take control honey?" your lips part with a slight trail of saliva, hot gasps fill this invisible bubble that you find yourselves concealed in. he's grinning with so much cockiness, and it's beginning to piss you off again. much to your dismay, you were very much still pissed at this perverted boyfriend of yours. however he's making every second more difficult as he manhandles you atop the comforter. now he was the one towering you.
before you could even blink satoru is ripping whatever piece of cloth that was covering that sweet body of yours. he's giggling, watching you just fall under his gaze. watching you fully allow him to feed into his raging fantasy. you were getting a piece of him tonight.
he's unzipping his pants with eagerness, the tent was very much evident. he's gripping onto your waist with such ease, you were now face to face with his cock and shit he was hard. there's no way that'll fit, you think.
"toru there's-"
"shut up & suck it." you couldn't even reciprocate his sentence, the sudden death grip of his fingers forcing you to suck his dick makes you yelp in surprise. his bitterment from the argument is clearly showing through this rough play—you're whimpering as he begins to shove himself deep into your throat—yet this new side of him is so enlightening to see.
a side so cruel at how he was receiving pleasure from you, so cruel of you to be gagging on his cock when you were "biting" his ear off moments ago. his girth was something, the length of satoru's cock was a whole story. his tip leaking precum was hitting the back of your throat, forceful thrusts of him trying to chase a high he oh so desperately needed.
"f-fuck, such a fucking whore. working that pretty mouth of yours to such good use hm?" slender fingers tangled themselves into your hair, then dragging down to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together. a mixture of cum and spit spilling out the corners of your mouth.
he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, the palm of his hand back to gripping your crown. fucking you faster—god, your mouth is doing wonders to him—harder, using you so goddamn well.
"shi- fuck. m'gonna-!" you used one hand to start rubbing him fast, gags getting louder just to drive him to the edge. whatever you were angry at him over it was long gone. your pussy was dripping wet, eyes pooling with tears as you felt him release inside your mouth making you choke a slight. that didn't prevent you from kitten licking him clean of cum, swallowing every bit of his seed. the sight before him made him grin in pride.
"mm.. putting that berateful mouth to better use...swallowing it all up so well." is all he says before leaning down to kiss you more intimately. he can taste himself through the kiss, tongue swirling onto yours.
"s'not over yet baby. lemme take my fill too hm? can you stay obedient?" you nod quickly. all you want is for his cock to be inside you. to pound you till all you could see is the stars that sparkle in his ocean eyes.
"isn't that so easy hm? no need for you to be so angry. i'll fuck you so well, you won't even remember us fighting." soft, hot whispers linger near your ear. hands pushing you back down onto the bed, knee prodding up your inner thigh—you whimper.
"so just shush that pretty mouth & behave 'kay sweets?"
Tumblr media
©️ svtcrus || 09.24.25 ; BABY LOVE ME EVENT
do not modify, use, copy or plagiarize my work.
218 notes · View notes
sanjisblackasswife · 1 year
Text
Sanji As a Cam Boy (NSFW)
Imma do Zoro Next. Yes this is a new series.
CW: Twitter Links so turn ur volume down
Sanji
Tumblr media
This slut would be the most open to it.
He wouldn’t care about showing his whole face however he loves close ups
He usually enjoys being a woman’s play thing or solos. Completely satisfying her while he records or is on live.
He’s surprisingly so good at what he does.
Honestly he is a new man on camera and it turns you on a little
Link 1: Like I said Sanji has an addiction to pleasuring women. It would more than likely be you he eats out and if you consent to it ofc and he’ll even make sure to never show your face. He hopes you say yes, lil cocky bastard wants to show the world he can make you cum so easily with his tongue. Plus, he just simply loves how you taste.
Link 2: If you do agree to be his little…side kick for his shows it will eventually turn into a show all about you. Sanji is absolutely in love with your pussy and that doesn’t limit to how much he loves playing with it with his cock or fingers. He never likes to tease you for too long though but seeing your slick get so wet all for him. He has to record it for the world to see.
Link 3: Sanji loves appreciating your tiddies. Small, big, perky, saggy he dont give af before he starts the real business off on his lives he takes his time giving all his attention to your chest. Murmuring how much he loves them.
Link 4: Like I said he’s YOUR plaything. He has no issues with you doing what you want. And if it means to sit back and relax as you stroke his cock just for his viewers to hear him moan and whimper so be if.
Link 5: His fans know about his smoking habit, and a very generous fan donated a request for him to fuck you while smoking. Luckily that wasn’t an issue when he figured out what position to do it in.
Link 6: Sometimes Sanji just likes to show his viewers how a typical night between you both go. You’d be in the bed relaxing and the moment you see him set up his camera in the corner of your eye you smirk. You try to ignore him on some days just to be a brat, but unfortunately it never works.
754 notes · View notes