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stardewstardropthoughts · 1 year

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Your first time with the bachelors, MDNI pls

Content warning: sex, I try to keep it all gender neutral so everyone can enjoy! Shane’s and Harvey’s are a bit more female leaning on accident 😅

Alex

He’s got experience so even if you don’t he can help you out

Will take it slow for you for your first time together

Always has condoms on hand, we practice safe sex in this house

Pulls you onto his lap for a heavy make out session first, hands roaming over your body while he encourages you to do the same

Always asks before removing any article of clothing from you, consent is sexy

Once your both naked he’ll lay you back on the bed, he’ll do all the work he just wants you to enjoy the ride

Makes sure you cum on his hands and mouth first so your well prepped since he’s a bit big

Lubes himself up after rolling on the condom and starts inching himself inside you, he’ll watch your face the whole time to make sure your not in to much discomfort

Once he’s fully inside you he’ll give you time to adjust if you need it, likes to give you lots of little praises

“Fuck baby, that’s it, your taking me so well” “look at you all stuffed full of my cock like such a good girl/boy/pet”

Once you let him know he’s good to move he does try to take it slow at first, but after a few moments he’ll pick his pace up to a nice quick thrusting

Definitely plays with your nipples or clit while he fucks you, wants to make sure your feeling as good as he is

When he gets close to cumming his thrusts get sloppy and a bit out of rhythm

Leans close to your ear and whispers absolute filth

“Take it, fucking take it” “look at you all drunk on my cock, that’s okay baby I’ll take care of you”

Burrows himself to the hilt with a harsh grip on your hips when he cums

Sam

Like I said, not the most experienced but he makes up for it by being eager to learn

Chances are your gonna have to take the ropes at least for the first time

Definitely a whiny subby mess

Loves when you leave hickeys on his chest while his hands grab at anything they can reach

When you slide the condom on his cock and sit on it he’s almost in tears at how good it feels to be inside you, isn’t afraid to let you know

“F-fuck sweetheart, feels so fucking good” “don’t stop please don’t stop”

He will not last long, how could he? Your warm wet walls clamping around him feel like heaven

When he cums he tosses his head back and let’s out the breathiest whine as he grips the sheets until his knuckles are white

If you haven’t cum yet he will use his mouth to make sure you do, he isn’t a selfish lover by any means

Harvey

He’s got a decent amount of experience under his belt

And so much lube and condoms since he’s the town doctor

He likes to take his time working you up, a gentle body massage with some body safe lavender oil

Scented candles in a dim room

Likes to have you pretty much begging for him to touch you before he actually gets to working his fingers inside you

Once he’s pumping his fingers in and out at a slow steady rhythm, the other hands busy gently pinching your nipples

Wants you to cum on his hands first before he slides into you

Once he has his cock inside you he likes to keep the pace slow and steady, hands still roaming your body he snakes one hand between you both to rub encouraging circles on your clit

Whispers soft praise in your ear the whole time

“Your doing so good for me love” “fuck you look amazing under me” “taking me so well, cum for me again I know you can”

Will make you cum a second time before he even thinks about finishing himself

Moans softly in your ear when he cums

After sex cuddles with him are top notch please tell him he did a good job he has anxiety

Shane

Listen, he’s got frustrations and if you’ll let him he’s gonna rough you up in bed

He likes it rough and dirty and he isn’t afraid to be mean in bed (with your consent and discussion before hand of course)

Your safe word is pepper

He’ll work you up with his hands first and mouth first, leaving hickeys and bite marks on whatever exposed skin he can reach while he’s got three fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole at a rough speed

Once your prepped enough he’s manhandling you onto your hands and knees, face shoved in a pillow while he shoves his cock into you

One of his hands has a bruising grip on your hips while the other hand is tucked under you holding a vibrating wand on the highest setting against your clit

He’s pounding into you so hard the beds shaking, you would be worried about breaking it if you could think straight at the moment

Spews absolute filth, he does not shut up

“Fucking take it like a good little slut” “all your good for is taking cock isn’t it? Fucking repeat it” “ah ah don’t try and wiggle away, stay put”

Will absolutely overstimulate you to the point of tears, wants you to sob on his cock

If you want him to he will gently hold your throat but actually choking you beyond a gentle squeeze is something he won’t do

Will spank you

When he cums his grip on your hips tightens as he hissed out a moan

Big on aftercare, will massage any particularly sore spots, run you a hot bath, get you water and a snack, tell you what a good job you did for him and how proud he is of you

He wants you to know he loves you and that it’s just part of a scene when he says your just a little whore and not what he actually thinks of you

Sebastian

Fully flustered mess

Does not know what he’s doing but more then willing to learn

Your probably gonna have to take the lead here as well

Get him all worked up and ready to see him on the verge of tears and begging for you to sit on his cock already

He’s a switch but definitely subby the first time

When you finally seat yourself on his cock he lets out a very shaky moan, dude knows he isn’t going to last long at all but he can’t find it in him to care

He probably lasts like three minutes at most but he’s literally never been inside someone cut him some slack

You do infant cut him slack because it’s the hottest site you’ve ever seen to have this lanky emo man almost crying in overstimulation underneath you

He will use his hands and mouth to make you cum just give him a few moments to recover please

Elliot

A romantic man

Pulls out literally all the stops

Body safe scented rose oil, candles, dim lights, rose petals on the floor and bed

He’s got a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice on the bedside table

Soft music playing on the radio

He starts by undressing you slowly, leaving a trail of light kisses on each new exposed patch of skin

Leads you to the bed where he lays you down and starts gently massaging you, working his way to your dripping hole where he gently stretches you out with his fingers until your cumming on them

When he finally enters you it’s all slow and sweet, he’s holding your hands, fingers intertwined with yours

Forehead kisses while he whispers in your ear

“Your doing so well for me” “I love you so much” “god you feel amazing around me my love”

Not afraid to moan in your ear, breathy little groans as well

Relishes in all the little sounds you make for him

When he cums he definitely pulls you into a passionate kiss while shoving himself to the hilt inside you

Stays inside you for a little while after while his cock softens so he can feel close to you

Loves after sex snuggles

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew marriage #stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew bachelors #sdv farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv x reader #sdv smut

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sammygender · 6 days

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thinking about dean growing up and putting everything before himself. hunting and his brother and his dad and his dad’s revenge quest for their mom. he doesn’t matter. he is entirely irrelevant. thinking about dean internalising this as just what you do, just how people behave and how they should behave. him viewing selfish as the worst thing you can possibly be.

then thinking about sam growing up and fighting. brave enough to challenge their father and rebel against him and voice something different, brave enough to focus on what he wants. dean seeing this and it stings - he could never do that. how is sam acting like that? he can’t believe that’s the right way to behave. so sam must be selfish, just in believing he has any right to his own life.

dean sublimates himself for the family and expects sam to do the fame, and his resentment and jealousy that sam doesn’t turns into anger and making sam out to be the mean one, the one in the wrong. and this never goes away. this is always what dean levels at sam - that he’s selfish, that in wanting to make his own choices he’s rejecting their family, rejecting dean……. awful. toxic. evil evil message to send to sam. entirely in character. dean wants to prioritise sam, would save him over the world. but he doesn’t care what sam wants.

selflessness isn’t always a charming character trait. it’s not the same thing as a generosity of spirit and it’s definitely not the same thing as being caring. sometimes selflessness just means you’re incapable of prioritising your life and incapable of understanding how anyone else could or should prioritise theirs. sometimes it means you still act selfishly, you just convince yourself you were objectively in the right, because doing something actually for yourself is unthinkable. sometimes it means you think the very act of having wants and boundaries is selfish, no matter whether they’re yours or anyone else’s.

anyway… thoughts on dean’s specific brand of awfulness regarding sam. what does it matter to him what sam actually wants? since when did it ever matter in the winchester household what anyone wanted? dean had to deal with things he didn’t want for the mission (for john). sam has to deal with things he doesn’t want for the mission (for dean). augh. the cycles

#& what do they get for that? sam gets punished repeatedly for being brave and attempting to have any sense of agency #it’s taken from him repeatedly by everyone around him. hes violated in every possible way. him wanting his own life is framed as selfishness #i can’t stop thinking abt this. Am i dean winchester am i on the pathway to becoming him #it makes so much sense now. of course sam is everything to me. i always always latch onto characters who fight who try to say fuck you i am #worth something. and that’s what sam tried to do. it just didn’t work. the story wears him down too much. augh.#the story + his abused/abusive brother #spn is a horror story #dean winchester #this is written with love but it is very much hashtag dean critical #spn #meta #supernatural #sam winchester #spn meta

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rollingsins · 1 year

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all hers, part xiii

summary: You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Why should you live while the others died?

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Ghost face spoilers for Scream 1-4.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: 👀 smashed through my writers block, let me know your 🔪🔪 theories.

You haven’t left the car - or Tara’s lap - by the time the police arrive.

Sam greets them, watches as they make their way through the house, casing for strewn pieces of clothing, discarded weapons, footprints, handprints, anything.

But there’s nothing to find. Ghostface is long gone.

By the time they’re done, your anxiety is at an all time high, not even Tara’s arms around you enough to quell the fear inside you. Your chest thumps uncomfortably. Your palms are shaky, sweaty. Flashes of the mask, the knife raised against you.

Is this how Tara’s victims felt in the end? Is this how Wes felt?

The only difference between you and Wes is you’d survived. And he’d died innocent while you survived, guilty. It isn’t fair. You deserve everything Ghostface is giving you, you know it deep down. Your will to live is selfish, almost.

Why should you live while the others died?

The answer is pressed to your side. She’s beautiful, as ever, squeezing your hand so tight the tips of your fingers turn white. Her knee bounces steadily, an indication of her nerves. Her dark eyes are wild, flitting from you to the house to the officers on the lawn. Scanning, as if Ghostface will jump out at any moment. God help him if he does, when she’s like this. White-faced, quietly stewing in her own anger and anxiety. You can almost hear the cogs turning in her brain as she runs wild with the possibilities of who it could be.

The police have questions, what feels like millions of them. The most pressing is why. Why would Ghostface target you specifically? Of course, you know why.

You don’t mention the other victims. You don’t mention Tara’s Ghostface mask hidden in a lockbox in her closet. You don’t mention the motive Ghostface had all but spit into your face.

Someone who thinks you should pay.

Tara, a little on edge, tires very quickly of their incessant questions.

“There’s never a why, do you even live in this town?” Tara barks, voice hot with annoyance, “They’re random. They’ve always been random.”

“That’s not exactly true.” It’s Sheriff Hicks. She climbs out of her squad car, slips her gun into her holster as she stands.

Your chest tightens. She makes you so nervous. You’re so scared one of these days you’ll slip, blurt out the truth before it’s too late.

“Billy Loomis blamed Sidney for his mother abandoning him. Nancy Loomis blamed her for killing her son. Roman Bridger and Jill Roberts wanted infamy.” She surveys you, hand resting gently on her holstered pistol, “The question is: what does this Ghostface want?”

The back of your neck prickles uncomfortably under her gaze. You sink deeper into Tara, wear her almost like a shield.

“Forget his motive, what are you going to do about catching him?” Tara says, arm tight around your waist, “I want a squad car here 24/7. I want officers escorting YN to school. I want a walkie talkie and a phone number so we can have direct contact with them whenever we need-”

The thought of stepping foot into that house sends shockwaves of panic through your body. You grip her waist, tight, trying to draw her attention.

“I can’t go back in there.” You say, voice tight, “Tara, I can’t stay here tonight. I can’t sleep here.”

If Tara’s surprised by this, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wraps her arms tight around your shoulder and presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“Okay baby.” She says, “We’ll stay with your parents, how about that?”

“I can post a squad car.” Sheriff Hicks interjects, “Two officers. I’ll give you their cell numbers. I’m afraid we’re all out of walkie-talkies.”

She looks at you, for the first time in a long time there’s sympathy in her eyes, “You’re going to be okay.” She promises, “My officers are the very best. But you call me if you remember anything. Anything at all that could help.”

The moment is interrupted by the sheen of blinding headlights. You avert your gaze, blink away the stars in your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

It’s a familiar truck, the heavy slam of the door signals the driver has exited the vehicle. You squint, make out Richie’s figure as he rushes towards you.

“Hey. I came here as fast as I could. Where’s Sam, is she okay?” He’s out of breath, a little panicked as he scans the driveway for his girlfriend.

“Sam’s fine.” Tara says, her shoulders tight, “YN was attacked.”

Richie blinks.

“By Ghostface? Are you alright?”

“Of course she’s not alright.” Snaps Tara, “Some psycho just attacked her at knifepoint.”

She pauses, as if something has just occurred to her. Suspicion brews in her eyes.

“Where have you been?”

Richie draws his attention back to her. The lights of the police sirens flash across his face.

“I was meeting some friends at a bar,” Richie says, “Is Sam in the house?”

“What friends? You got an alibi?” Tara asks, her eyebrows drawn tight.

“You’re not serious?” Richie stares back at her.

The Sheriff tilts her head, suddenly interested.

“Do you?” She reiterates, “Tara and Sam are accounted for. We’ll need to corroborate with any potential witnesses who can place you at the bar.”

Richie opens his mouth in disbelief. He looks between the three of you, waiting for the punchline.

“I didn’t make it there. Sam called-”

The Sheriff hums, scribbles something down on her notepad.

“So no alibi.” Tara scoffs, “You’ve been here two weeks and the one night you go out, YN gets attacked.”

“This is ridiculous.” Richie splutters, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, “Tara. Why would I attack YN? I have no motive.”

But Tara’s mind is made up, she crosses her arms, glares at the Sheriff.

“Are you going to arrest him or what?”

“Tara. I can’t just arrest people.” The Sheriff says, closing her notebook. She looks at Richie, “I suggest you outline to one of my officers the exact route you took to and from the bar. If we can place you on CCTV we can rule you out as a suspect.”

“You can’t arrest people?” Tara challenges. There’s that fire, the one that’s been brewing for the last hour, finally emerging, “What kind of a Sheriff are you?”

“Tara.” You hiss. You turn back to the Sheriff, eyes wide, “I am so sorry, Sheriff, she’s just scared-”

“Scared?” Tara says, sounding outraged. Her dark eyes burn, “I’m furious. I have a prime suspect for you and you won’t arrest him-”

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I put on a Ghostface mask and tried to kill your girlfriend.” Richie argues, loudly.

“What’s going on?” It’s Sam, finally emerging from the house. Richie and Tara both turn to face her, matching expressions of outrage on their faces.

“What’s going on? Your creep of a boyfriend just tried to murder my girlfriend.” Tara snarls.

Richie throws his hands up.

“Why? Why would I want to kill her?”

“I don’t know.” Tara says, “You tell me. Because you’re twisted?”

“You know what,” Richie says, his nostrils flaring. He points his finger at her, “It definitely wasn’t me, because if I was going to murder anyone, it would be you-”

“Stop it!” Sam yells, “Both of you. God. You’re like fucking children.”

They both fall silent. Glare at each other. Sam storms off, presumably back into the house. With a final dirty look at Tara, Richie turns and follows her inside.

You take Tara’s hand, rub your fingers over the back of her hand reassuringly. Richie is a little strange, granted, but you seriously doubt he’d try and kill you. You’ll talk her down later tonight, you figure. Right now; you want out of here.

“Do you have any more questions, Sheriff?” You ask, quietly hoping the answer is no, “I need to call my Dad.”

She surveys you for a moment.

“I think we’re all good here.” She says, finally, “Call me if you remember anything.”

Your Dad is freaked, rightfully so.

In a panic, he demands you come home. He seems to be so frightened he doesn’t even protest when you tell him Tara’s coming too.

She’s still glaring at Richie as she pulls out of the driveway, leaving the slew of officers and sirens behind as she makes her way to your parents home. One hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh, tight.

“It’s him, I know it’s him.” She stews, hands tightening on the wheel, “How fucking suspicious can he be. Meeting with some friends, my ass.”

“We don’t know that, babe.” You say, squeezing her hand, “He’s kind of right - what’s his motive? As far as I know we haven’t done anything to offend him.”

“I’ve been on his ass since he got here.” Tara says, “Maybe he’s sick of me. Of us.”

“Or maybe it’s someone else.” You say, staring out the window, “Someone related to the others. Sadie has a brother, I think. One of Aaron’s friends? One of Chase’s?”

There’s a long list of people who would want vengeance on the two of you. It hurts your head to think about.

“Cool it on Richie, please babe. If he is Ghostface, the last thing we need is him getting spooked.”

“I need to get him away from Sam,” She says, chewing her bottom lip, “If he hurts her-”

“We don’t know it’s him, babe.” You say, pressing your hand over Tara’s, rub the back of her knuckles, “Besides, if he is Ghostface, he’s not going to kill her. His beef is with us.”

It doesn’t calm her down. Her knee is still bouncing when she pulls into your parents driveway, grip around thigh so tight it’s starting to hurt. She shuts off the car and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry baby.” She says, voice heavy. Despite the comfort she’s trying to give you, her eyes betray her. Brown, wide, swimming with worry, “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I’m not taking my eyes off you. You’re not going anywhere alone, I mean it. You’ll have to get used to me watching you pee.”

You half think she’s kidding, until she follows you upstairs and into the bathroom.

“Absolutely not.” You say, pressing your hand to her chest and pressing a kiss to her lips, “Wait here.”

“But-”

“Ghostface isn’t hiding in the bathtub, babe.” You tell her, and close the door behind you.

You pause. Check the bathtub just in case.

Your parents make a fuss, like you knew they would. Your mom rushes off to comfort cook, something she does best, and your Dad gets his power tools out, triple checks all the windows and doors for any shaky locks.

If he minds Tara staying the night, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he hovers at the bedroom door, eyeing her up as he reiterates his safety mechanisms.

“Keep the door locked,” He says, voice gruff as you climb onto the bed, next to Tara, “At all times. Front and back. I have a security specialist coming in tomorrow to install some cameras and alarms.”

“Thanks Dad.” You say. It takes the weight of your chest, just a little.

“I’ve got my shotgun loaded and ready to go,” He continues, “If you hear anything- anything at all - just call out and I’ll be here in a moment.”

“Do you have a spare?” Tara asks suddenly, “Gun, that is? I’ll be a little closer, is all.”

He watches her for a moment. That expression is on his face - the one he always wears when he sees Tara. Mild distaste, like he’s just taken a bite of something that’s gone bad. Briefly, you worry he’s going to try to kick her out.

“I can’t give a gun to a kid.” He says, voice curt. Her brows furrow.

“This kid might be the only person who’s able to protect her in time.” Tara challenges, “You’re all the way across the hall. What if he covers her mouth so she can’t cry out?”

“Babe.” You warn, “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.”

Your Dad shifts his weight, staring Tara down. You know he doesn’t like her, it’s written all over his face. But if she goes, so do you. And he understands that, you know he does.

“I have a handgun.” He says, finally. He looks at you, “I’ll give it to YN. Remember those lessons down at the cabin? You’re confident you know how to use it?”

You nod.

When you were younger, your Dad had taken you shooting, taught you how to fire a gun, how to load it - and most importantly, how not to hurt yourself doing it. The thought of drawing out a gun to protect Tara from Ghostface’s knife makes you feel only the slightest bit better.

He looks back to Tara. The distaste is back in his expression.

“It’s for her. You’re not to touch it. Understand?”

You can feel Tara fizzling next to you. Her fingers curl, and before she can give your Dad the dressing down you know she so desperately wants to give, you jump in.

“She understands.” You say quickly, “Thanks Dad.”

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Tara complains, stormy-eyed, when he finally leaves, “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“He’s just being a Dad,” You say, pulling her into your arms and quelling her mood with a kiss, “Don’t take it personally.”

Dinner’s awkward.

Your head is a mess, heart pounding out of your chest every time you think of the looming threat. Tara grips your thigh under the table protectively, as if she’s afraid Ghostface might launch in any second and send the roast laid out on the table flying.

Your Dad glares at Tara. Tara glares back at him. Your mom stares at you, worry in her eyes.

You stare down at your plate, your appetite somewhat dissipated.

“I just don’t understand.” Your mom says for what seems like the hundredth time this evening, “What does he want with you?”

“What does he want with any of them?” You mumble, “He’s a psycho, that’s all.”

You push a rogue potato around your plate, starting to regret the choice to come home. At least Sam’s questions were easily combatted by one of Tara’s swiftly timed jabs. You could hardly expect Tara to snap at your Mom.

“Let’s not talk about it.” Your Dad says, to your relief, “You’re freaking her out.”

“I’m just saying,” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “Are we sure he was there… for you?”

She lets it hang. The scrape of cutlery against plates stops momentarily, as the entire table takes in the implication. You frown, look up at your Mom.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She says, hurriedly. You don’t miss the glance she sneaks at Tara.

“Seriously?” You say, “You’re blaming Tara?”

“I’m not blaming anyone.” She says quickly, “I’m just saying-”

“Well, don’t.” You snap, standing up, “God. Tell me now if you don’t want us here and we’ll go.”

“Of course we want you here.” Your Mom says, “YN, sit down, please sweetheart-”

“I’m not hungry.” You say, scooting yourself away from the table, “Thanks anyway. Come on, babe, let’s go to bed.”

They don’t protest as you lead Tara upstairs and into your bedroom. You slip your pants off, curl up into bed, take Tara in your arms.

“Your Mom’s right, you know.” She says, after a quiet moment, “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t say that.” You murmur. You press a kiss to her head, wrap your arms a little tighter around her.

“It’s true.”

It is true. But she doesn’t need to think that, not right now. You curl your fingers through her dark hair, scratch her scalp affectionately.

“You-” You hesitate, picking your words carefully, “You’ve made some mistakes. But that’s in the past now. You turned over a new leaf, remember?”

You remember it vividly. The night after Amber’s death, making her swear black and blue she’d never kill again. Promising her she’d never have a reason. She shifts in your arms and looks up at you. There’s something in her eyes. Fear. Hesitance.

“Baby,” She says, biting her lip, “Whoever this person is. I have to kill him. You know that, right?”

Your stomach flips.

“No.” You say immediately, “No, Tara.”

“If he’s alive, he’ll hurt you. You know I can’t let that happen. We can’t turn him in, he knows too much. It’s the only way.”

That sinking feeling is back. The one that had been there when Chase died. The one after Amber and the one after Wes. Like everything is crumbling around you. You squeeze her a little tighter.

“I’ll do it.” You say. The thought makes you sick. The thought of her doing it makes you sicker.

“No, baby.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your shoulder, “Not after last time. Look at what Wes did to you.”

“I don’t care.” You say, shaking your head, “I don't want you doing it. You can’t-”

Be trusted, is what you want to say. The Rage is terrifying, violent, and you don’t want to reawaken it. You hold it back, pull her closer to you.

“I don’t want that part of you back. I don’t like that part of you.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

“It’s already back, babe.” She says, pulls your hand to her chest. Her heartbeat is wild, out of control, “Don’t you see? It isn’t killing that prompts it. It’s anybody trying to get to you.”

You’re too tired to fight. Too tired to admit she might be right. At the end of the day if it’s her or him, you know what you’d rather her do.

You lean down, press your lips to hers, try to redirect the conversation.

“You will sleep tonight, right?”

“Not likely.” She admits, her grip on your hips tightening.

“Let’s take it in shifts.” You suggest, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “Half and half so we both get some sleep.”

She nuzzles her nose into the side of your neck.

“Okay. I’ll take first watch.”

She looks towards the handgun your Dad left for you on the bedside table, tugs it carefully over to her side of the bed.

“You know how to use that?” You ask, a little skeptical, “You know to turn the safety off?”

“Yes babe, I know how to use a gun.” She assures, a little irritated you asked.

“Alright, alright. Just checking. The last thing I need is you shooting yourself in the foot.”

“Give me some credit,” She grumbles, “That’s something Chad would do.”

You kiss her, softly, then snuggle down into her chest. Listen to the rise and fall of her breathing, her rampant, crazed heartbeat as it pumps in her chest.

“Remember to wake me.”

She doesn’t wake you, as you should have predicated. When you open your eyes it’s the next morning, and she’s pressing a warm kiss to your lips.

You scrunch your eyes, blink her into view.

“Babe? Did you stay up the whole night?” She kisses your forehead, nudges a warm cup of coffee into your hands.

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. There was no point in me waking you.”

“Baby.” You groan. Her eyes are red, tired. You press your hands to her cheeks, lean up to kiss her.

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll nap in science.” She promises, “Mrs. Fletcher is enough to put anyone to sleep. Besides. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

She kisses you again.

“Speaking of: I asked Chad and Liv to stop by with a few supplies.”

She reaches for a paper bag, empties out the contents onto your mattress. You sit up, interest piqued.

It’s nothing less of an armory. You blink, hold up a small metal device.

“A rape whistle and a taser?” You say, “Babe, how am I supposed to take this into school?”

“Keep them in your purse.” Tara says, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request, “It’s not like they check our bags. It’s for emergencies.”

She presses a long kiss to your forehead, “But you won’t need them. I’m not leaving your side. Not for a minute.”

“I have Chem today,” You say, heavily, “And you have English. We can’t be together all the time, Tara.”

“We’re skipping.” Tara says, “I’m taking you home early.”

“Tara, if the school calls my Dad and he finds out I’m skipping classes-”

“He’ll do nothing.” Tara says, fire behind her eyes, “You’re eighteen, he can’t force you home with him. And if he tries then I’ll-”

“You’re not killing my Dad.” You say, firmly. She pouts a little.

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” She says, a little put out, “I’d give him a piece of my mind, is all.”

You sit up, pull her into you.

“Sorry, babe.” You apologize, soothe her with a kiss, “I’m just a little on edge.”

“It’s fine,” She reassures, “Just please keep these on you. Please.”

You agree for her sake.

Word gets out quick.

People stare in the hallways, everyone trying to get a glimpse of Ghostface’s latest victim. It’s unsettling, this much attention. You grip Tara’s hand tight in yours and try to ignore the leering of the other students as she walks you to your locker.

When you reach it, Mindy, Chad and Liv are waiting for you.

“Is it true you saw him?” Chad asks, wide-eyed.

“Is it true he stabbed you?” Liv asks.

You shoot her a look, open your locker and grab your books for first period.

“Does it look like he stabbed me, Liv?” You ask, witheringly.

“Give her some space guys,” Tara says, pushing Liv back slightly, “She’s not a zoo animal.”

“Still.” Mindy says, “You survived a brush with Ghostface. Not many people can say that.”

You ignore the hot flash of dread that zaps through you at the mention of him. He could be anyone. Maybe he’s even here now, watching you. Waiting to get you alone. It must flash through your face because suddenly Tara’s hands are on your waist, rubbing your back reassuringly.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.” Tara says, a little protectively, “Why don’t we meet you guys in Math.”

“Come on.” Mindy says, “Not talking about him gives him power. You don’t know who it is, right? Maybe we can help you figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s you, Mindy.” Liv says, voice sweet, “After all, you’re obsessed with horror movies.”

Mindy looks over, sharply.

“What kind of motive is that?” She says, annoyed, “Besides, I’m not the only one who likes horror movies. Tara does too. Maybe even more than me.”

“So Tara attacked her own girlfriend, that’s your theory?” Chad says, incredulous.

Mindy shrugs, “It’s happened before.”

She turns to you.

“YN, ever get the feeling like Tara wants to kill you?”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute,” Tara growls.

“Yeah.” Mindy nods, like her theory is confirmed, “Major Ghostface vibes.”

“Stop it,” You say, reaching for your Math textbook, “Tara didn’t attack me, she was with Sam. And I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Mindy’s shoulders deflate a little.

“Wes likes horror movies too.” Liv pipes up, “Maybe that’s why he ran away. He wanted us all to think he was dead so he could live his true life as Ghostface.”

You roll your eyes. Let them bicker. As you grab your final textbook your finger catches on something soft. Something you didn’t put there.

It’s a t-shirt, worn, gray, ACDC logo on the front. Your fingers curl around it, brows furrowing. Something hard is within the fabric. You fish it out, turn the cool plastic in your hand. It’s a DVD. Stab 2. Your stomach flips.

You slam your locker shut, white as a sheet. It draws the attention of the entire group. You feel a little dizzy, like you might pass out. Someone had been in your locker. It feels more of a violation than it should. Tara straightens, grips your hand.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She asks immediately.

“Bathroom.” You mumble.

You don’t say goodbye to Tara’s friends. You tug her behind you hard and fast, not sure how much longer you’ll be able to stand upright.

When you reach the bathroom, you slam the door closed, fish out the t-shirt and thrust it towards Tara.

“What’s this?” She looks confused. Flips the t-shirt in her hands.

“It’s Wes’,” You say. You take a heavy breath, try to quell the blood rushing to your ears.

Tara swallows. Her fingers brush the DVD.

“Stab 2.” She says, furrowing her brows, “What is this supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.’ You say, biting your lip, “Nothing good. How did he get into my locker?”

“The school has cameras.” Tara says, thinking fast, “If I can get into the security feed I might be able to see who it was.”

“How are you going to do that?” You ask,

She bites her lip.

“I don’t know.”

“Please don’t get yourself in trouble,” You say, reaching for her hand. You entwine your fingers, “The last thing I need is you getting kicked out of school.”

“I’ll be careful.” She promises. Dips down to kiss you.

Then, she retracts, tosses the t-shirt and DVD in the trash.

“Tara. What are you doing? What if we need that?”

“We don’t need it, babe.” Tara assures, “Ghostface is trying to fuck with us, that’s all. Besides, the last thing we need is for the Sheriff to catch us with Wes’ old t-shirt and one of his movies.”

She pulls you in again, holds you tight.

“Are you going to be okay in class?”

You nod, drop your forehead to her neck. Wrap your arms around her waist. Your hand catches on something in the back pocket of her jeans. You furrow your brow, then tug it out.

“Tara!” You hiss, mouth dropping, “You brought a knife to school?”

Tara blinks back at you.

“Of course I did.” She says, “There’s some lunatic running around. You really thought I wouldn’t come prepared?”

“Baby, if one of the teachers catches you with this-”

“I have it hidden.” She assures, “They’ll never see it. How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t have a weapon?”

You're more concerned with protecting her. There’s a horrible niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like Ghostface has been a little too easy on her so far. The knife in her hand gives you only the slightest reprieve.

“Let’s go to class.” She says, with a kiss to your cheek, “Do you have your rape whistle?”

You shoot her a look, tug at the string around your neck. She’d insisted you wear it at all times.

“Right here, babe.”

“Good girl.” She kisses you once more.

Your fingers curl around the taser in your back pocket. Slip your phone into your backpack and head to class, Tara’s fingers entwined with your own.

You take a deep breath. You're in school. In the middle of the day. Hundreds of students around.

Whoever Ghostface is, he wouldn't be so stupid to attack you in broad daylight.

Right?

next part

#ghostface!tara #all hers #mine #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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samdeancrimespree · 2 days

Text

very small detail in mystery spot… but the very first tuesday sam goes to brush his teeth and there’s toothpaste like all over the tube and it’s mostly empty. and he looks at dean like “seriously?” and dean shrugs. then after dean dies, during the montage of sam living alone on his revenge mission, there’s a shot of him brushing his teeth and the toothpaste tube is clean. the trunk is organized, the photos on the wall are lined up, the guns are spotless, the bed is made. the toothpaste tube is clean. dean was always the one who made the motel room a home, made it messy, made it lived in. there’s no mess. there’s no dean. sam doesn’t know how to do that. he’s never needed to. maybe never even noticed that’s what dean was doing; he was too busy complaining about his dirty clothes being everywhere.

it is so extremely codependent how sam’s ocd behaviours spike when dean is gone. like dean is his emotional support animal. “we keep each other human” in a very non-supernatural way. sam can only function on a normal level if he knows dean is ok. no one and nothing can drag sam out of that spiral other than dean, because there’s no reason to get out of the spiral if dean isn’t there. sam calls dean selfish for making the deal not because sam wouldn’t do the same thing, but because the prospect of living without dean is hell to him.

#UAGH and then at the end he looks at the two unmade beds #he is so mentally unwell #the codependency brothers <3 #that isn’t rlly how ocd works but go with it #it drives me so crazy how it seems like sam doesn’t even tell him…#he doesn’t want to have dean worry about him #when he just needs to focus on making sure dean doesn’t die #samdean #obsessive sam #mars.txt #liveblogging from mars #s3 #psychotically irrationally erotically

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

Text

valentine’s day one shot

poppies and babies’ breath

bucky barnes x fem!reader

bucky really wants to ask you out. but he can’t even dance anymore, much less date.

Bucky Barnes was not very good at dating. At least, not anymore.

No, that skill belonged to Sergeant James Barnes, a dumb, 20-something that hadn’t been made into an assassin for 70 years.

For all of his skills, that one is failing. He can toss a knife like nobody’s business, lift 1000 lbs to impress you on a training day, and speak dozens of languages.

But he can’t figure out how to flirt with you. Don’t even start on asking you out.

It used to be so easy. Flash a smile and the dames would line up to go dancing with a man in uniform.

Bucky can’t really dance anymore. Or he doesn’t want to.

He’s considering all of this as he stands outside of a flower shop, peering in and probably freaking out the kid at the register.

“Uh, sir, there’s a sale on flowers for Valentine’s Day…” the boy says, muffled through the glass. Bucky nods, finally stepping inside.

There are paper hearts strung up around the shop, only reminding him of exactly why he’s here. He’s gonna do it today. He’s gonna ask you out.

Well, he’s also here because he lost a bet with Sam. But that’s not important.

Bucky’s a dark shadow wandering through the quaint aisles, out of place in the colorful array of flowers. He skips over the roses. Too cliche.

He considers daisies, lilies, sunflowers, and flowers he doesn’t even know the names of until he finally finds what he was looking for.

Poppies. Your favorite. Apparently because of some story with opium poppies, wallabies, and crop circles. He was too distracted staring at you to fully grasp the story.

Bucky carefully grabs a handful and starts toward the counter before realizing that the bundle of red in his hand looks pretty bland. So then he adds some small white flowers, a pretty wrapping paper, and calls it a day.

“Can you wrap this for me?” he asks, setting down the items. The kid stares blankly at his metal hand, but nods.

He can’t remember the last time he bought flowers. ‘44, maybe? For his ma? He never bought any of his dates flowers. Too pricey and too significant when the relationships never lasted long.

You, though. You were different. Maybe it was the way you never looked at him like the teen boy in front of him had, with apprehension and questions Bucky didn’t feel like answering. Or maybe the fact that his brain had been through the blender.

But he loves you. And that’s more than he can say for most of his past ventures. He wants to give everything to you while also being selfish enough to take everything you may give him.

Bucky considers that he maybe deserves to be a little selfish sometimes.

The kid finishes wrapping the bouquet and hands it over.

“$25,” he mumbles, still in awe of the war hero in front of him.

Bucky tosses a $50 on the counter. “Thanks, kid.”

———————————————————————

A knock on the door of your room in Stark Tower startles you from your haze.

You’re in a shirt and pajama shorts on your bed, desperately trying to find a show that isn’t about true love.

It all reminds you too much of your own loneliness. How bad you wanted to ask out your own crush but never quite got ballsy enough to do it.

Grumbling as you watch a pair of high school sweethearts reunite in the picturesque Hallmark town, you stand to open the door.

There you find Bucky. The very man you’re conflicted over. Holding a bouquet and in a red henley to match the poppies.

“Hey,” he greets, trying to avoid staring at your legs.

You smile. “Hi, Bucky.”

He holds up the flowers. “I- I wanted to get you something for Valentine’s Day, and also…” He goes beet-red and stares at the ceiling for a moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. You shake your head, waiting for him.

“Oof, okay. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me? Sometime? Whenever works for you is fine-“

You rest a hand on his arm that’s still cradling the bouquet. “I’m free tonight?”

Finally, a shy grin breaks out on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky swallows, gives you a very real, very swoon-worthy smile, and hands over the flowers.

“Well, doll, do you wanna go dancing?”

Because yeah. Maybe he can’t dance anymore. But he wants to try with you.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #valentine #valentine’s day #valentine’s day fic #one shot

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scoobydoodean · 1 month

Text

Just hit me after thinking about that response again that the reason bronlies are such miserable people and often so combative is that they don’t believe love exists in Supernatural at all. I don’t think I ever quite caught onto that before now. I mean they would probably disagree with me saying it, but the simple fact is that they do not believe in love. They do not believe it exists in the show.

They look at the show and its relationships and see possessiveness and obsession—never actual love. Possessiveness and obsession are characterized by jealousy—proving you are the only one who gets something, that you are at the top, that you are the most special, that everything belongs to you. This kind of covetousness shows a fundamental misunderstanding of love as a concept. This enviousness in turn makes fandom a competition over who is ultimately most obsessed with whom, in which all attention, devotion, and affection must ultimately be “won” by a single character (nothing less can satiate obsession) who is then the “best” character. Of course, that “best” character always has been and always will be Sam to them. Selfishness is Sam’s birthright—not one of his character flaws. Dean exists to be used by Sam, and Cas exists to be used by Sam and Dean. Sam is entitled to sole, unwavering devotion and anything less is a threat and a crime and a cruelty.

If genuine love (brotherly, familial, romantic, or otherwise) doesn’t even exist between their favored characters, Dean and Sam, of course it isn’t allowed to exist between Dean and Cas. Of course when people dare to suggest genuine love exists between Dean and Cas, bronlies are filled with seething nonsensical jealousy and make it a competition. They know that love is powerful and meaningful, while possessiveness and obsession is ultimately selfish and self destructive and lesser. So even the slightest hint of genuine real mutual love between Dean and Cas (brotherly, familial, romantic, or otherwise) is a threat. Even if love wasn’t seen as a more powerful force, Dean still wouldn’t be allowed to care about Cas at all because it would take attention away from Sam and all attention and devotion must belong to him.

#dont feed the stans after midnight

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moltengoldveins · 3 months

Text

*vibrating out of my skin* b-bbphhh….. beeduo. But its. It’s the Minotaur. and Theseus. Has someone done this? Please tell me someone has done this.

Tubbo as a boy trapped in the most technologically advanced maze ever made, learning engineering from the walls meant to contain him, his selfish father (Schlatt) so shamed by his ‘mutations’ he spreads rumors that the boy is a monster, throwing sacrifices to the maze every seven years. Tubbo’s never been able to save them in time. Something savage is in the walls, hunting, and while the maze is built specifically to keep Tubbo alive, it is not so for the foreign prisoners.

Meanwhile, Ranboo is the prince of an oppressed kingdom, forced to give blood sacrifice every seven years. His father (Phil, not the most common dynamic but roll with it it becomes relevant later) tells stories of the kingdom’s former glory, the glory lost when their most famed general fell to the war, taken and by all accounts killed by Tubbo’s father. Ranboo decides to go on a quest to slay the monster his people are being fed to, and further, to live up to the memory of that lost general and kill the enemy king, freeing his people. He promises to lift white sails if he returns alive, and that his men will lift black ones if he dies. (There’s some Lady of Death symbolism happening here, work with me) Importantly, his father gives him an old token of a ‘lost friend’ before he goes, an emerald on a chain. He says it’s for good luck, and guidance. He seems… really sad about it tho. Hm. Surely that’s not important.

Niki is the vassal/adopted daughter/ healer?? Of Schlatt, who sneaks out now and then to give Tubbo snacks. The maze likes her, and she is the only one the old warden told its secrets to before he escaped with his son. She cannot navigate the twisted paths like Tubbo, who has spent his entire life walking those halls, but she is protected from whatever is in the walls. She could get Tubbo out, but they’d have nowhere to go, so she waits. Every year, she prays she will find a way to get them out. Every seven, she prays Tubbo will not have to watch any of the prisoners die.

Ranboo arrives and threatens Schlatt, who only laughs at the boys boldness and throws him into the maze first. (Oddly, while he took every stitch of gold from Ranboo’s neck and hands, he left the earring. He said something about it being ‘fitting. It’ll finally die with its partner’)

just when Ranboo is about to be thrown in, Niki, who couldn’t bear the thought of such a kind looking kid dying so horribly, sneaks him a sword and a ball of golden thread. “It will guide you when you need it. Sam made it as a last resort.” She whispers, right before the gates close.

Tubbo, furious at his failure seven years ago to save any of the hostages (he was twelve. There was nothing he could have done.) manages to get to Ranboo just in time to keep the monster away from them both. The maze closes around them and for a moment, it looks as if they’ll fight. Then Tubbo smiles, and Ranboo lowers his sword, and the two of them are friends in seconds. Tubbo takes Ranboo back to the little room he’s set up shop in, boasting about his inventions but clearly Very unaccustomed to speaking with Actual People. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Ranboo is the physical child of two polymorphed dragons and the adopted child of an angel and a goddess. He isn’t accustomed to speaking with Actual People either. They get along smashingly.

Tubbo and Niki have made a plan of escape, but never had chance to use it. Now that Ranboo can offer sanctuary, it’s just a matter of getting out and running, but Ranboo refuses. He can’t leave whatever monster is really in the walls for anyone to find and either die to or take advantage of, even if he does destroy Schlatt’s regime. Tubbo insists it’s impossible to even find the thing, its lair is in the fabled ‘center of the maze’, which even he has never been able to find. And even if he could find it, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be killed in an instant. Whatever the thing is, it’s a better fighter than anything else in the nation: that’s why it was locked away. Ranboo offers Tubbo his signet ring (kinda a proposal gesture, we’re Not Acknowledging That RN Tho, We’re Both Traumatized and Trying Not To Die) and tells him to flee to the Antarctic Empire after Niki’s plan to kill Schlatt succeeds. That way Phil can help them, even if Ranboo doesn’t make it.

Unspooling the golden thread, Ranboo follows it to the center of a maze, where he finds… a study. It looks like it was torn through by a hurricane, then carefully rebuilt, and half of it is filled with untouched and unfinished mechanical structures. He other half is filled with notebooks, maps of the maze, and frantic scribbling. “Another hunt today” one says “I only knew because my claws were scraped.” “I woke with blood in my teeth” another page says. “I think it was a person. I think I was a person, before. I don’t think I am anymore.”

He doesn’t have the time to piece things together though, because a hulking figure twice his size emerges from a side door and slams into him. He barely manages to knock the blow of a massive axe away, and squinting in the low light, he sees a long-haired, red-eyed man in a tattered uniform and a cape, face twisted and malformed with scars and massive fangs. The uniform is that of Ranboo’s home country. The cape is eerily similar to the one on Phil’s old portraits, before the war.

‘Oh.’ Ranboo realizes, right as he gets kicked through a wall of foliage. ‘You’re the reason my dad is so sad all the time.’

it really seems like all is lost. The man is clearly rabid, insane and muttering to himself, eyes glowing crimson. But right as he’s about to kill Ranboo, he sees the earring, and he stops. He turns to a drawer in one of the desks and pulls out a matching earring, and the light fades from his eyes.

‘im sorry’ he says, ‘I’m not a man anymore. They took that from me. It was some kind of curse. They made me kill my own people. They made me a creature.’

‘well, that’s nothing new’ Ranboo shrugs. ‘Curses can be broken, and I’m rather good friends with a few creatures at this point. What’s one more?’

so they escape, the earrings doing something?? To help keep the man calm. Niki burns the tree in the center of the castle and Techno (because we all knew it was Techno) triggers the self destruct system he’d found in the maze during those few moments of sanity between all the hunting. Niki also remembers a rant or an offhand comment Schlatt made at some point early in her apprenticeship about how to break some curse in the maze, something he was gloating about that she only really gets once she sees the massive fellow being led out of the maze by a very excited Ranboo.

everyone escapes and there’s more Plot but the important bit is: Ranboo forgets about the sails. As they near the harbor, they see a cloud of ravens flying in from every direction, and Techno Loses His Mind. Turns out that only happens when Phil is Really In Danger, Dying, or, hypothetically, dead of grief from the loss of what he believes to be his last living family member. (Yes we have the option here of perms-killing Phil right in the final stretch but I Choose No, because No) There’s a very dramatic reunion where Techno is midway to War Mode while Phil is definitely post-giving-his-soul-up-to-Lady-Death-now-that-everyone-I-love-is-dead, Just-Back-From-Being-Dead-And-Not-Sure-Why-His-Wife-Didn’t-Keep-Him-This-Time??? before Ranboo Explains Everything. Tubbo and Ranboo end up platonically married like Ranboo’s father and Tubbo’s weird uncle in the walls before them and ruling the country as King and General. Niki gets a bakery and a chance to use her alchemy powers for yummy purposes instead of poison. Everyone lives and is happy. The end.

#molten rambles #technoblade #mcyt #philza #tubbo #ranboo #beeduo #emerald duo #fanfic ideas #mcyt fanfiction #DO YOU SEE MY VISION #DO YOU COMPREHEND #It’s a syndicate fic technically

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evansbby · 1 year

Note

steve and omega watching a football game and him getting ✨handsy✨

Oooh, he’d literally have no shame!

thots below!!! (also, i’ve read through all the prompts i got and i love em, i’ll do some more drabbles tonight!!)

***

“You really have no idea what’s going on in this game, do you?” Steve comments, grabbing you by the waist and forcibly dragging you across the sofa till you’re practically on top of him.

Steve had texted you to come downstairs and sit with him while he watched a football match on TV. Usually, he watched with his friends with a beer in hand and profanity on the tip of his tongue. But everyone was busy today — at least that’s what you were guessing — which was probably why he only had you left to watch the game with.

“Well? Do you understand the game, omega?”

You blink, not wanting to disappoint him: “I—uh—kind of.” You have a vague idea of what’s going on in terms of the score but honestly, football isn’t something you’re very interested in. You’re too scared to tell Steve that, though, since he loves the game so much.

Steve chuckles, stroking your hair back before pulling you up onto his lap, “That’s alright. Omegas aren’t meant to understand football anyways. You’re good for other things…”

You frown to yourself, if he didn’t think you could understand it then why had he called you downstairs to watch it with him?

You find out the answer to your question a mere few minutes later, when a lull in the game has Steve’s hand creeping up your thigh, fingers deftly pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh and making you whimper in his lap.

“That hurts, Steve!”

“Shhh. You’re my good girl, you can take it.” His deep voice lulls in your ear, making the hairs in the back of your neck rise and shivers run up and down your body as he continues to squeeze your thighs, lifting the hem of your skirt up as he does it.

“Now, I want you to move your little baby ass up and down, okay baby? Can you do that for me? While I watch the game?”

Your eyes pop open, “N-Not here!”

Steve smirks, “Are you saying no to me?”

You cast a quick glance at the front door. What if Sam or Bucky walked in? Swallowing deeply, you shake your head, “M-Maybe we could go upstairs?”

“But then I’d miss the game. And it’s very selfish of you to make me miss the game just because you want to take me upstairs so I can fuck you.” He says easily, smiling as he peppers kisses up your neck.

You gape, “That’s not what I meant!”

“You don’t want me to fuck you?”

Well. Truthfully, you always wanted Steve. It’s like wanting him is ingrained in your soul and tattooed on your heart. Your body yearns for him all the time and he knows that. You wish he wouldn’t always take advantage of it though.

“That’s what I thought. Now start moving.”

You press your lips together and hope no one walks in before you start moving back and forth slowly. Steve’s rough hands are glued to your hips, nestling you right on top of his hard dick and dragging your ass up and down, creating a delicious friction.

“Fuck yeah. You’re such a good omega, aren’t you? Being a good little toy for daddy while I watch the game.” He coos in your ear, licking the shell of it lewdly, “Tell daddy you’re my good little toy.”

“I’m your good little toy,” you breathe softly, half of you wanting to die of embarrassment and the other half wanting not to stop because despite everything, it just feels so good. He feels so good, warm and throbbing underneath you despite both of you being clothed. A part of you wants to rip everything off and just sink down on his dick and—

“The line at the convenience store was too fucking long!”

Bucky’s voice has your eyes widening as you contain your yelp of surprise, trying to push yourself off Steve’s lap except he keeps a firm hold on you, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you into his chest as both his friends walk into the room with a six pack of beer in tow.

“Great. We missed the first twenty minutes.” Sam groans, collapsing on the armchair adjacent to the sofa that you and Steve are on. He glances at Steve before gluing his eyes to the television, “Did we miss anything good?”

“Nope.” Steve answers, “The game’s been really boring so far, I had to find other ways to entertain myself.” He gives your ass a pinch and you almost bat his hand away before you remember that you’re not allowed to do that.

Bucky tosses Sam a beer and then Steve, before taking a seat on the other end of the sofa occupied by you and Steve.

“You want one, sweetheart?” Bucky winks at you, holding out a beer. Your eyes widen and you shake your head, glancing at Steve to see that he’s in full conversation with Sam, filling the other alpha in on everything that’s happened so far in the game.

Soon, everyone resumes watching. And Steve resumes touching you, kissing your cheek noisily and squeezing your hips. Tracing his initials on your bare thigh, slipping his fingers down between your legs before you snap them shut in alarm.

And that’s when he starts thrusting up against you. You hold the gasp in your throat, sitting on Steve’s lap in shock as he begins to move you on his dick again, dragging you back and forth, his clothes cock nestled between your ass cheeks, rubbing and creating friction.

He’s literally dry-humping you in front of his friends.

“Stop, please!” You whisper.

“I’ll stop when you cum.” He answers, not bothering to whisper. You thank your lucky stars that Sam has increased the volume on the television.

“Please, Steve! I can’t! Not here!”

“You will.” Is all he says, humping up into you as his hands sneak up to squeeze your breasts. You look over to make sure neither of his friends are looking —which they aren’t, thankfully. But you still feel mortified, your alpha’s hard crotch dragging up and down your ass while Steve squeezes and fondles your body.

Despite everything, you know you’re about to cum.

“Excuse me!” You squeak, catching Steve by surprise when you jump up off his lap. “B-Bathroom!”

You scurry away, heart beating like crazy. Locking yourself in the downstairs bathroom, you try to calm yourself down. Shit. You’re not allowed to disobey Steve like that. What would he do now? You bite your lip when you feel your phone vibrate with a new text:

Steve: Now you’re in for it.

***

AJDJSKSKKSAK FUK SOEISJWK BYE

#anon #poyt ask #poyt drabble #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #Chris evans

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nattysstargirl · 7 months

Text

Alone, again.

Mafia!Wanda Maximoff X Reader angst

Brief Mafia!Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Short blurb

Age gap (undisclosed)

I thought the way Pietro treated me was bad, but it was nothing compared to what his sister has done. From him I expect nothing less than selfishness and disloyalty, but her? No. It has been a week since we slept together for the second time and I awoke in her room alone again. I was disappointed and wished that she would have woken me to say goodbye, but I didn’t for a second doubt that we would talk later in the day.

The rose-tinted glasses I have worn since I was old enough to think Wanda Maximoff was a mixture of superhero and goddess, have left me vulnerable to the fact that she is as capable as her brother of using and discarding women. At least Pietro never pretended to be anything different. He told me explicitly that he didn’t love me right before we had sex.

Wanda sucked me in. She gave me a taste of what I have craved for so long. I felt safe with her, protected. My eyes roll every time I think of the warmth I felt when she called me baby or my darlin’. How naive and stupid was I that I thought that meant she cared at all for me? Wherever she has been sleeping this week, she has probably been whispering the same sweet words into another woman’s ear.

My cheeks redden with the humiliation I can’t shake. The feeling that I am pathetic. All I am worth is a political marriage. My mother can’t see me past her self-obsession and my father, he sees me as a pawn in his miniature game of thrones. My half-brother fucking kidnapped me, for goodness sake. The fact remains that the only person who I have ever truly felt loved by is Bucky and he has been lying to me too.

He spends more time with Sam than he does with me now anyway and I feel our special bond slipping away. I’m glad I have Natasha, but our friendship is still new. We bond over work dramas, the gym members who hit on us, and all the normal bullshit. We hang out, but she doesn’t know all the inner workings of my complicated life. The past week I have been a zombie.

I don’t want to speak with anyone. I have stayed at the Maximoff house because being near my parents would only make me more miserable, but I haven’t seen Wanda. I snuck into her room the first night in the wee hours of the morning and she wasn’t there. Her bed was still as I had made it that morning. The second day I text her.

Y/N: Hey? Is everything ok?

But I didn't get a response. That was when I knew that she was avoiding me. There was no alarm in the rest of the family that she was missing or out of touch. It was just me she avoided. Bucky tried to comfort me. He called his cousin all sorts of names and was on my side. But he kept pushing me back towards Pietro. His solution to my heartbreak was for me to throw myself into my sham marriage.

“You’re only saying that because it’s what the Famiglia wants!” I screamed at him. “When did you stop giving a shit about me!”

The guilt on his face told me I was right. He was working toward an agenda, not caring about his oldest friend. Interestingly, Piet has been nice this week. His cheerfulness has been a reprieve from all the angst. He took me out for brunch on the third day and although it was nice, his hand on my lower back as we walked through the cafe felt wrong. He is the only one who seems to get how shit it is to have your life at total mercy to what the Famiglia dictates.

We have bonded over our mutual hatred of the control being exerted over us. Now, it’s six nights since I last saw Wanda and I’ve sent several texts which have all received no response. Miserable, I sneak into her room again. I can’t sleep and pathetically, I think maybe if she still isn’t there, I could just sleep in her bed.

Maybe her scent on her pillows will help me drift off. I pad barefoot down the hallway wearing one of Bucky’s massive t-shirts and slip into Wanda’s room. I pause, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark room before tip-toeing toward the bed. A dark form lies entangled in the blankets. She is home. She’s here and she didn’t reply to a single text or check I am ok. I want to throw things at her sleeping body. Wake her up with my hurt screams.

But instead, I walk around to the other side of the bed and slip under the covers. I crawl over to her and turn around so my back is to her. I rest my head gently on the bicep of her outstretched arm and she instinctively pulls me in close, curling her body around mine. I loathe how good it feels. My eyes fill with tears and my heart with self-hatred.

“Y/N,” Wanda groans, sleepy and exasperated, a few moments later.

“I hate you,” I reply, my voice thick as I battle the tears threatening to fall.

She is silent for a moment and then sighs. “I know, baby. I hate myself too. Go to sleep.”

And I do. In her arms, I slip into the easiest sleep I have had all week. I know that the morning will bring with it more heartache. She will push me away again. But for now, I feel safe and exactly where I’m meant to be. I wake up before Wanda. She is still wrapped around me, and every fiber of my being cries out for me to burrow deeper into her arms and go back to sleep. Thankfully, I have a tiny bit of self-preservation left, and instead, I gently peel her off me and creep back to my own bed. Sliding into the cold sheets feels like salt in the wounds of the past week, but I do it because I can’t bear the thought of waking alone in her bed again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader angst

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