#my shirt says “Tall Dark and Handsome and there’s a beer

[brownboydiaries]

Date fit that rly popped off

#me #the date was so good #super pleasantly surprised #he looked diff irl #but like everyone always does to a degree #and the vibe/banter was so so good #my shirt says “Tall Dark and Handsome and there’s a beer #hehe

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

meeting him at the pub

(cw: age gap)

I don’t know how it happened, how I ended up chatting to the tall metalhead at the pub. But I was meeting my friends there like every other Wednesday and when I got drinks from the bar, a dark, friendly voice piped up. “Hey, nice shirt.” My head whips to the side, looking for the person who gave me the compliment.

Right there at the table, sitting alone, a huge, tall guy with long dark hair. Tattoos adorned the big strong arms distracting from his bandshirt, I think it’s from Dark Tranquility. The drawings span to his hands ending at the knuckles, that moved as he grabbed the bottle of beer standing right in front of him.

My eyes close in on his face, a ruggedly handsome one. A nose that seems to have been broken at least twice. Lips formed into a friendly smile. Serious eyes looking straight at me, eyes that had seen some shit, but the laugh lines around them speak of a man who rather likes to laugh. He also looks a bit older than me.

I almost stumble over my own feet, halting for a moment to look which shirt I’m wearing today. It’s my Death shirt, the one with the Symbolic Album art. I look back up at him, smiling. “Thanks!” I continue my trip to the bar, a pep in my step.

When I walk back with the drinks in my hand, I shoot another friendly look in his direction. One that he answers with a nod and tipping his beer in my direction. And I totally blush at the little friendly gesture. I sit down with my friends handing them their beers, but I can’t help my eyes finding their way back to him every so often, to see what he’s doing.

He’s just chilling alone, at his table, drinking his beer, looking at the TV where some kind of soccer game was being shown, playing with his phone from time to time. It is so fucking tiny in his huge ass hands. And half the time I look in his direction, his gaze is already on me. Which is making me nervous. Not because it’s creepy or anything in that sense, but because he’s attractive. Oh my, ruggedly handsome, seeming like a gentle giant, while the way he’s sitting and observing everything around him is telling a different story.

“Just go fucking talk to him.” My friend sitting to my right grins at me. I shrug. “I don’t know.” They roll their eyes. “Just do it, you little chickenshit.” I throw up my hands. “Fine, fine, okay.” I snatch up my beer and hesitatingly make my way to his table.

He’s already looking at me, sitting up straight, as I approach him and ask with a shy smile on my face: “Can I sit here?” I point at the stool across from him. He seems a bit surprised, but he nods. “Sure, take a seat.”

I sit down and then a moment of silence falls over us where we just look at each other. The corner of his mouth is tilted up, a half-smirk making his face even more handsome, a few strands of hair falling over his left eye and cheek. He seems a little bit tense and I suddenly feel a little bit self-conscious. We just look at each other. And I can’t stop looking at him.

“So, you like Death too, huh?”, I ask him, and then I hear how that sounded. “The band, I mean.”, I clarify laughing. He joins in, a dark manly chuckle falling from his lips, and I can see his shoulders drop down a bit. Seeming a little more relaxed.

“I do.”, he answers. “Actually, one of my favourite bands.” His voice is a bit higher than I would have anticipated from such a big guy, he has a nice timbre and some kind of accent when speaking English, that he’s trying to mask.

“Understandably so.”, I say, going on a rant about my favourite bands. He just looks at me, stunlocked. His mouth slightly open. His eyes scanning my face, dropping down every so often. I don’t stop talking and he listens, nodding along.

“I also like Lorna Shore a lot, do you know them?”, I want to know. He shakes his head, still intently listening while only speaking every so often. “They’re a symphonic deathcore band, and my god, their music just blows you away.” He chuckles again. “And they’re in town next week, but I don’t have anybody to go to the concert with me.”, I say, turning down the corners of my mouth.

“I could accompany you.”, he chimes in which shuts me up. A friendly offer. But the way he’s looking at me is making it feel like so much more.

“Really? You would do that?”, I ask surprised.

He shrugs one of his shoulders, looking to his fingers that fiddle with the label on the beer bottle. “Yeah sure, I can be your company for that evening.”

I close my mouth and think about it for a moment. “Of course, that would be… very nice of you.” Great, I’m so eloquent when it comes to flirting with men. Especially older, tall metalheads. But the way he’s still fidgeting with the beer bottle, I think he’s having a hard time as well. Which makes his offer so much more surprising. But I’m not mad at it. Not at fucking all.

I clear my throat. “Maybe I can get the tickets and you can get the drinks?”, I suggest. I wouldn’t want this to seem like I wanted to mooch off him.

He hesitates for a bit, but then nods. “Sure.” I nod as well and drink some of my beer. So that’s that, huh?

“So, what do you do? For a living?”, I ask him. He halts for a second, and I add: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, of course.” I tilt my head and push my cheek into my propped-up hand.

A smile forms on his lips, as he looks to the side for just a moment, but his eyes find their way back to me. “You’re a nosy one, huh?” which makes me hide my face in my hands looking at him through my splayed fingers, but he only laughs at my gesture.

“I’m actually a soldier, a mercenary. I’m currently on leave.”, he explains. My eyes widen at his words.

“Really? Damn okay.” That explains the aura around him that I couldn't pinpoint before. “So like, what’s your specialty or however this is called in the military?”, I ask, still being nosy.

His lips curl into a confident smile, his whole demeanor changing a bit. “I’m an insertion specialist.” And the way he says that makes my skin tingle, my jaw dropping down a bit. Because the tone in his voice makes me think about a certain kind of insertion. The ‘drop your clothes, get naked together’-kind.

He laughs again as he sees the expression on my face. “Get your mind out the gutter.”, he jokes.

“Huh, I didn’t say anything.”, I defend myself, weakly, holding up my hands in defense. He pulls up his eyebrows, donning a knowing smile and leaning back.

“M-hm.”, he says and his fingers wander to his lips, stroking over them absent-mindedly. “I specialize in breaking down doors and getting people out of whatever situation they’re caught in.” How he says it makes me smile, because he says it so non-chalantly, but I can see the pride behind his words.

A little silence falls over us again, but instead of being uncomfortable we just sit in it and look at each other. He drags his hand through his hair, his fingers threading through the brown strands. And I’m so normal about this. My god, why does he have to be so attractive?

“How old are you?”, he asks me, his eyes searching my face like I’d have it written on there. The first question he asked me this evening.

“I’m 25. And you?”, I return the question. He winces a bit, but he answers: “I’m 41.” I nod and sip on my beer. Well, I already assumed that he’s older than me, so I’m not really surprised by the age gap.

“I’m old enough to be your dad.”, he says and takes a sip from his beer. My eyes are glued to his lips, the way the bottle rests against them. Then he swallows and I follow the motion as the liquid flows down his throat.

I arch a brow. “No, you’re not.”

He tilts his head to his side, a little smile forming on his lips. “Well, maybe if I started early, I could be.” His eyes dart to me, for just a moment.

The other brow joins the one already sitting at my hairline. “Did you start early?”, I ask him.

His smile gets wider while he slowly shakes his head. “No.” He takes another sip and leans back a bit.

“So, not actually old enough to be my dad.”, I conclude the conversation, a grin turning up the corners of my mouth. “I’m gonna get another drink, you want one as well?”

He looks at me, his eyes boring into me. I see the little twinkle in them, but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I got to get home.”, he finally says, the expression on his face turning apologetic.

I hide my disappointment behind a charming smile. “Okay, no worries.”, I tell him.

He leans forward, coming a little bit closer, and I stand my ground, even as his scent hits my nostrils, and I have to damp down the excitement flooding my veins. He’s smirking at me now and raises his hand until his finger makes contact with my nose. He just booped my nose. “Tell you what though. Let’s exchange numbers and then we’ll see if you’re still up to going to a concert with me when you’re sober.”

I laugh a bit and pull out my phone from my pocket. “Okay, deal.” But his words also make me think. “Don’t you trust my judgement?”, I ask him as I hand him the device which looks ridiculously small in his hands.

He grins while tapping on the screen. “I do, but I don’t trust myself when I stare into the face of a beautiful woman.” He looks at me again and hands me back the phone, getting up. And he gets taller and taller and taller. I mean, I saw that he’s freaking huge when he was sitting down. But my god, he’s more than a foot taller than me. I have to put my head back to be able to look up at him.

“A beautiful woman, huh?”, I repeat his words back to him, ignoring the way this sentiment makes me feel.

“Aye.”, he says leaning down a bit. “Good night then.” He presses a small, almost chaste kiss onto the top of my head, while at the same time grabbing his leatherjacket. He puts the worn piece of clothing on and heads in the direction of the door.

I look down and see the new contact in my phone. His number, but instead of his name the little crown emoji sits on the top of the page. “Wait, what’s your name?”, I yell after him.

He turns around again, the long hair whipping over his shoulder, grazing over the worn leather. A grin lights up his face. “König, you know, like ‘king’ in German.”, he explains. He raises his hand again and waves goodbye, then he’s out the door.

He’s gone, but he’s still on my mind the rest of the evening while spending time at the pub, on my way home, as I’m getting ready to finally sleep. Especially the little forehead kiss lives in my mind rent-free.

When I wake up again in the morning, I contemplate what to do while I get myself a coffee. Finally, I gather my courage and shoot him a text.

metalhead!König has me in a chokehold, so this was veeeery self-indulgent. i hope you still like it <3more to come soon, because i can't wait to go to a concert with him :')

part 2 or more stuff in the Masterlist

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #she likes the dark #tw: age gap

[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

Bar Introductions

Summary: You meet Rooster at a the Hard Deck, the start to a relationship that's destined by fate.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: This is going to have multiple parts but I'm not sure how many. I'm having a lot of fun with this combination though, so it'll probably be more than I'm anticipating. This is a lot longer than I had expected it to be.

Read the Story: The Beach Date (Part Two) Moonlight Serenade (Part Three)

When Rooster had walked up to you in the bar for the first time, you had thought that you were in his way of the bartender.

"Oh, excuse me," you muttered, eyes down as you tried to move past him.

"No, you're fine," his voice drawled, "I was actually on my way to talk to you."

Your eyes bounced up to meet his which were hidden behind a pair of dark, aviator sunglasses. He wasn't in a uniform like a lot of his friends were but in a hawaiian style shirt and jeans.

"Me?" You asked him bewildered.

He raised an eyebrown and nodded, raising his beer to sip from it. His eyes were assessing your face which was probably bright red by this point.

You were trying to come up with something to say but all you managed was, "Oh."

You were naturally a very shy person, never the one to start conversations or make a whole crowd laugh. The man standing in front of you had just charmed the whole bar with his rendition of Great Balls of Fire and you couldn't help but feel very out of your element.

You'd agreed to come to the bar tonight to hang out with a friend from work but she'd been seduced by a miltary man at some point and you had been left on your own. She was the more outgoing of the two of you, never afraid to speak her mind and always tugging you to be more confident.

"My name's Y/n," you offered shyly as you held out your hand as a way of introduction.

Immediately you felt regret, who the hell shakes hands at a bar?

He just seemed amused as he grabbed it in his own. "I'm Rooster," he told you as he bent to put a kiss on the back of your knuckles.

Your eyes widened and you took a large breath as the nerves increased, spreading from your stomach to take over the rest of your body.

He let go of your hand and straightened back to his full height, leaning on his right arm against the bar as he turned to give you his full attention from where you were sitting at one of the tall chairs.

"So, you're a pilot?" You asked meekly.

Rooster smirked, "Yes ma'am, brilliant deduction on your part."

You huffed out a small laugh, "Well, when you introduce yourself as a barnyard animal it's the logical conclusion, unless of course your parents have an excellent sense of humor."

There was a flash of humor that sparked across his features for a moment, "Well, they sort of did."

"How do you mean?"

His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, "Well, uh, my full name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You giggled loudly before slapping your hand across your mouth, "Oh my god, sorry that was so rude of me."

He just chuckled, shaking his head at you. "It's fine, I get it a lot," he offered with a shrug.

He was still leaning on the bar when someone came up from behind him and slapped a hand to his shoulder, "Alright Roost?"

He nodded, his mouth turning into a displeased expression, "Was just fine before you walked over, Hangman."

The man smiled a blinding white smile in your direction, "Well, who is this?"

You shared a glance with Bradley, your more shy characteristics coming back as you were shaken out of the little world you were sharing with him. He must've picked up on your histance because he shot Hangman a warning look.

"I'm Y/n," you offered, keeping your hand to yourself this time.

Hangman set his hand on the back of your chair, leaning a bit closer to you and from the corner of your eye you saw Bradley tense.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Y/n. I'm Jake, I fly with old Rooster here," he told you.

He would've been handsome if he wasn't so over-confident. Instead, his approach was making you want to flee the room, a few minutes ago you were fine as you drank your Shirley Temple and now you were engaging a verbal battlefield with two men who were no-doubt masters at it. You wondered which side each of them thought you were on.

You turned subconsciously, closer to Bradley as you tried to put distance between where you were and where Jake was.

"That's cool?" Your voice came out shaky as the feeling of wanting to escape grew.

"Is there something that we can help you with, Hangman?" Bradley asked, his voice has lost it's goofy, charming quality and had taken on one of a gruff tone.

"Nope," Hangman shook his head, "Just wanted to see if this pretty thing needed a ride home tonight."

You froze at that, something Bradley picked up on. You did need a ride because your friend had already left, but the idea of having to get into a car with a man with such a large ego and a flair for flirting was the last thing you wanted to do.

"I knew she need one seeing as her friend left with Coyote and figured I'd offer my services," he flashed a shit-eating grin at Rooster who was gritting his teeth together.

Hangman looked down at you, "What do you say?"

Your eyes shifted between the two men. This, this was why you didn't come out to bars.

"Well, I, umm," you couldn't think of an excuse.

Bradley cut you off before it got too embarrassing, "She doesn't need a ride from you, I already offered and I'm taking her to her home."

"Is that so?" Hangman asked cocking his head to the side, "Alright," He shifted to look back at you, "You know where to find me when you're ready."

He walked away from the two of you back towards a group of pilots who were playing pool.

"I-sorry," you offered, eyes focused on the bartop.

"For what?" Bradley asked with a small laugh, "That wasn't your fault, if anything he came over here because he knew it would piss me off."

"Why?" You asked, tilting your head back up to meet his gaze.

Bradley pulled his sunglasses off and fiddled with them in his hands, the first time you'd seen him even slightly nervous the whole night. "Well, I - ," he cleared his throat, "I've been working up to talking to you for most of the night. My friend, Phoenix, was giving me a pep-talk before I walked over and he must've heard it."

He was close enough to you now that you could smell the cologne that was still clinging to his warm skin and you could make out the flecks of green that were painted in his eyes.

"You needed a pep talk to come talk to me?" You asked as a blush took over your cheeks.

He nodded, huffing a nervous laugh.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and took a deep breath as you summoned your confidence, "Well, I, uh, I do need a ride home. If you were serious about that?"

A handsome half-smile took over his face, "Yeah of course, let me pay my tab real quick."

You left him to use the restroom and took a minute to splash some cool water on your face in an attempt to rid yourself of the heat in your cheeks.

"Are you alright?" A woman with dark hair asked you.

You nodded, "I'm just not really used to all of this, I guess."

She nodded, "Yeah, I saw the altercation between Bagman and Rooster that you were caught up in."

You froze, "Phoenix?"

"That's me," she told you with an apologetic grin, "Are you sure you're alright? I don't mind going out and telling them both to fuck off."

You huffed a laugh, "No, Bradley seems great and I want to get to know him a little more. I guess... I'm just not used to all of the attention."

"Really?" She asked, seeming surprised.

You nodded shyly, "Do you think Bradley's safe to ride home with?"

She nodded, her eyes softening, "Yeah, he's one of the safest choices in this bar."

You let out an exhale that you didn't know you were holding in, "Ok, that's good."

"C'mon," she held the door open, "I'll walk you over to him."

You walked side-by-side over to where Bradley stood at the bar in conversation with a man in glasses which was cut off as Phoenix made her presence known.

"Rooster," she called, "You piss her off and I'll make today's pushups look like nothing."

His eyebrows rose and the other man choked on the beer in his mouth.

"Understood," he told her before turning to you, "Are you ready to go?"

You nodded and the two of you left them standing at the bar. He led you out to an old Bronco. He opened the passenger-side door for you, helping you in and shutting it, before getting in on the other side.

You gave him your address as he pulled away from the bar.

"That must've been some conversation in the bathroom," he told you as his eyes flashed between you and the road.

You shrugged, "She just asked if I was alright."

He hummed, "Are you?"

You met his eyes, "Yeah."

"Ok," he answered, pulling his eyes from you to focus on the road.

"How do you two know each other?" You asked curiously.

He snorted, "She beat my ass on the first day of flight school and I have since dedicated my time to making her my friend instead of my enemy. Something you managed in two minutes that took me until graduation."

You laughed at that, feeling more comfortable with him in the car than you had in the bar.

"She seems really cool," you said as you smiled out the window. The sun had set and the stars were out in full force, a sight you could never get enough of.

"She is," he affirmed, "Her WSO was the man in glasses that I was talking to before we left."

"What was his name?"

"Bob," he answered and laughed when you raised her eyebrows.

"No call sign?" You asked.

He feigned offense and said, "What do you mean?"

You laughed at his dramatics, "You've been referring to everyone by their call sign's but not Bob and I'm just a little curious as to why?"

He smirked, "Well, I'll have you know Little Miss, that Bob is his call sign."

You gave him an exasperated look.

"I didn't give it to him," he defended but laughing at your reaction.

He pulled up in front of your house, turning the radio down as to not disturb your neighbors.

"Thank you for giving me a ride home," you told him, flashing him a smile.

"Any time," he offered, giving you a small smile that sent your heart racing.

You began to unbuckled and get out of his car when his voice stopped you.

"Hey Y/n, would it be alright if I took you out on a date sometime?" His eyes were hopeful.

You bit your lip, grabbing an old receipt and a pen from his cup holder. "I'd be disappointed if we didn't, here," you told him handing him the receipt, "It's my number. Text or call or something and we can set it up."

You pulled your hair over to one shoulder, "See you soon, Bradley."

"I look forward to it, Y/n," he told you as he leaned over to press a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed hard and let yourself out of his car. You fumbled with your keys as you opened the door and as you stepped inside you heard him pull away, satisified that you'd made it inside safely.

That night when you went to bed, your thoughts were full of a certain pilot and the way your heart raced when his lips made contact with your skin.

#rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun x reader #top gun 2 #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #rooster x you #phoenix #robert bob floyd #jake hangman seresin

[cottagecheese1]

Knocking on the devils door

Summary: When you come back from college for summer break, the last thing you expected was to have a stepdad.

Paring - dark stepdad robert pronge x reader

Warnings - not really smut but close enough, robert is a weirdo

College was fun. Well, except juggling classes and doing work wasn't all that fun, but other than that, you enjoyed it. Before you left home, you and your mom got into this huge argument about how you shouldn't go to college and just stay in your hometown and find a rich husband to take care of you, so you can become a housewife like her.

You have always been an independent person, but your mom never really understood that. Every time you would bring up getting a job or going to college, she would refuse, and ask you why you wouldn't just get a husband.

Then again, you do keep in mind that she is your mother and always has been, so you hoped that if you put this little hardship behind you, your mom would understand and also do the same.

You pulled into the driveway and took a quick gander at your childhood home. Nothing has changed even before you left, but what you did notice was an ice cream truck parked right in front of you. How strange.

As soon as you get out of your car, you smooth your shirt out. Taking in a deep breath, and walking up to the front door, knocking with your left hand while you hold your bag in the other. After waiting for a good two minutes, you raised your hand to knock once again until a tall man with long hair and a scruffy mustache answered the door.

"Listen, kid, I don't wanna buy any girl scout cookies"

He had a white T shirt on with glasses, as much as you would hate to admit it. He was a handsome man. The feeling of your tongue being caught in the back of your own throat wasn't really the most convenient.

"Um, no, sir, I'm looking for my mom? M/n?"

He looked me up and down, but before he could answer again, a high-pitched voice that was highly recognizable came quickly to the front door.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm so glad you're here! You should have called before you came! I missed you so much, sweetheart please come inside!"

To say that you were surprised was an understatement. Being welcomed into open arms by your mother after what happened really surprised you. After you came inside, and looked around at the same pictures, same radio, same dusty bookshelf that has been here since your childhood, you quickly realized there was nothing visibly different. Nothing special.

When your mother led you inside, the tall man behind you followed, "Sit down, I was just making spaghetti for tonight!" Your mother spoke joyfully. You sat quietly, waiting for someone to make conversation so you wouldn't have to.

"So, I see you met Robert, don’t worry sweetheart he may look a little intimidating, but he's not all that bad, " your mom said as she gave a heartfelt giggle. You gave a small smile and turned to look at him, you didn’t get to observe his features until now, you swear he could feel your gaze burning in the back off his head because he shifted his head around and made eye contact with you. His icy blue eyes, and scruffy facial hair made you feel some sort of way, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it..almost a little creeped out. Pulling you out of your train of thoughts was your mother, she gave a frustrated sigh, "Dammit! I forgot the pasta sauce, I'll have to run down to the store... you two don't go anywhere, and I'll be right back".

You giggled and gave a quick ‘ok’ while she grabbed her purse and walked through the front door. After your mom left, it was extremely awkward when you just sat there silently while Robert seductively eyed you up and down.

"So, you go to college?"

Giving him a quick nod, you start to speak. "Yea, sports medicine...did you marry my mom?"

He chuckled and made his way over to the fridge to grab a beer, "Yeah, so I guess that makes me your daddy, right?" He said as he took a swing of the bitter liquid. Feeling your cheeks go red, you gave an awkward laugh.

“Um, yeah I guess so, if that’s the way you think of it.” Robert cracked his beer open, and walked over to the seat beside you to sit down. Fiddling with your fingers nervously, trying to come up with a question or some kind of excuse to make this situation less awkward.

Robert reached over, and tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ear softly, “Do I make you nervous angel?” You gave a embarrassed smile, and attempted to make some space between him and you, because for some reason it felt like he was to close to you. To comfortable for just meeting you the first time.

“Not at all, why would you say that?” He then managed to get closer to you right after you said that, giving you a unsatisfied hum, he grabbed your chin softly while making you look at him, “Because you are. You don’t need to lie to your daddy angel” After he said that you pushed his hand off your face with a wide eyed look while getting up out of your seat, “Are you fucking crazy? I’m going to tell my mom.” He laughed getting up and striding over to you, never until now have you realized how much bigger he was then you, probably a lot stronger also.

Pushing you up against the kitchen wall, he grabbed your face roughly. “Your mother would never believe you, and even if she did it’s either you or me. After that little disagreement you two had about not settling down and getting a husband, not to mention you also not wanting to stay in this shit hole of a town made your mother really upset. I’ve stayed with that hag for four years, and you wouldn’t wanna ruin your relationship with her even more would you angel?”

That was your breaking point. You broke out in sobs while burying your face in Roberts shirt, “Aw, angel face..daddy didn’t mean to make you cry, let me see that pretty face sweetheart.” You looked up at him with defeat, “what do you want from me..” Robert smiled and wiped the falling tears from your cheeks, “right now I want you to be my good girl, and to look me in my eyes when I fuck you with my fat cock. I want you to beg for daddy’s dick angel.” You looked up at him with wide eyes, “no..”

All the somewhat warmth and softness that might’ve been in him disappeared at that moment, “So you want your mother to think your a whore and tried to force yourself on me? Hm?” You froze, thinking of all the things your mother has done for you, and then her going to think for a minute you tried to have sex with this man. Robert exhaled while putting his head on your forehead, “How about I give you twenty spanks for being a brat, and another ten because you’re not being a good girl, then we can start over and you can actually start being my good girl. How bout it angel?”

You looked at him angrily, “NO.” Robert raised his hand, giving you a warning smack on your cheek. “If you say no again you’ll be choking on my dick to.” There was a pregnant pause in the air for a moment before he spoke again, “if your mother gets home before we get started, it will be much much worse tonight.” With that you sighed and gave a quiet ‘alright’.

Kissing your forehead softly before following with a ‘good girl’. Pulling you in the living room, and sitting on the couch before tugging you over his lap.

Pulling your pants down, leaving you in your panties for a moment, “so pretty angel, you wear these panties for anyone else, hm?” Giving him a soft ‘no’ he gave a satisfied hum, tugging your panties down your ankles, and giving your ass a teasing smack. “Count.”

_______________________________________________

Smack after smack went down painfully on your ass, at this point you were sobbing while counting, “twenty-five..” you just wanted it to be over, “twenty-seven..” your ass is bright red and hurts like shit, “your doing so good for daddy angel, just three more.” You gave him a whine, “twenty-nine..” you think the last one hurt the most because somehow you started crying even harder, “t-thirty…” Robert rubbed your ass soothingly, and put you on his lap. All you could do was hug him, and being in such a vulnerable state, you didn’t really care that you were clinging onto him with such urgency, “Aw, daddy’s sorry angel but you had to learn one way or another didn’t you sweet pea?” All you did was whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you can’t describe it, but he smelled good, “daddy..”

Robert smiled finally getting you wrapped around his finger, “did you learn your lesson?” With a burning red ass and no more fight in your body all you could do was nod your head yes.

Robert leaned down to grab your pants, accepting your answer as it is, “we need to get you cleaned up angel, we don’t need your mom finding you in such a humiliating mess honey..would hate to explain this to her wouldn’t you?” Nodding your head, and letting him wrap his arms around you. Maybe this isn’t to bad.

A/n: This isn’t usually like any of my other fic’s but I enjoyed writing it. I know it’s been a minute but I’m trying to go through my drafts at the moment!

#x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanon #robert pronge x you #robert pronge x reader #Robert pronge #the iceman #Mr Freezy x reader #dark fic #dark Robert pronge x reader #chris evans drabble #chris evans character masterlist #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters

[stackthedeck]

1, 8, 11 for the ask game?

lmao sorry for reblogging an ask game and then not responding for a full 24 hours

Where does your literary inspiration come from? Do you have a favorite writer/writing style that you learn from?

hmmm this one is hard I try my hardest to emulate the style of whatever fandom I'm writing for but when it's a medium that isn't purely written I fall back on the style of contemporary adult fiction idk I'm kinda a style sponge and I'm still working on developing my own

8. How long have you been writing?

Since like 7th grade?? I used to write terrible but typical stories for a middle school student in my notes app and send them to my friend group's group chat. Eventually, I started posting original fiction on wattpad in early high school and then fanfic there as well and then I moved on to ao3 thank god

11. Give us an excerpt of your current WIP!

Ooooh I'm writing an Webb movies Peter and MJ fic so this is a part of their first meeting

Peter looks around and sees a massive frat guy shoving a drink toward a tiny redhead girl. She’s trying to squirm out of his grasp but he won’t let go no matter how hard she insists and Peter’s spidey sense is narrowed in on that drink. Surging through the crowd just as the guy's hand sneaks up her skirt, Peter puts himself between the girl and the guy, spilling the drink in the process.

“What’s your problem, man?” the frat guy snarls, breath stinking with beer.

“She said no, asshole,” Peter says. He turns to cheek on the girl, but that bright red hair is already fading into the crowd as a swarm of girls huddle around her.

The frat guy grabs the front of his shirt, teeth bared and eyes hazy with booze. “I’m trying to get laid tonight, man, and you just cost me a hot piece of ass.”

“Maybe get laid with someone interested.” Peter shoves at the guy’s chest but with no real force. He remembers what he did to bullies after he first got his powers and he does not want a repeat of that, even if this guy deserves it.

“What like you?” The guy clutches Peter’s shirt tighter, a disgusted sneer on his face. 

“Rapists aren’t exactly my type.” Peter grabs the hand clutched in his shirt and raises his other to knock the guy’s lights out, maybe take out a couple of teeth for good measure. Just as he raises his fist, someone grabs his arm and Peter freezes.

“Easy there, tiger,” another frat guy says. He’s dressed in the same cutoff muscle tank top typical of frat guys, but he doesn’t quite have the arms for it and the high crop of it is a striking choice. He’s got a red beanie barely holding down tight dark curls that fall to his shoulders. Even in the dim light, his dark skin is glowing, but not as bright as his easy smile.

“What’s going on here guys?” Tall dark and handsome asks. Peter opens his mouth to answer but finds his throat suddenly dry.

“This loser is trying to pick up my girl,” the first frat guy says.

“She’s not your girl—” Peter shoves him again, this time hard enough for him to stumble back “—she’s some poor girl that I stopped you from harassing.”

“Yeah?” Tall dark and handsome asks, eyebrow quirked. Peter expects him to take his fellow frat brother’s side, but he drops Peter’s fists.

“You’re just jealous you couldn’t score, you little fag—” Before the guy can finish his tirade, he recoils back from a swift punch to the nose.

Peter looks down at his hands, confused that he didn’t throw the punch, but suddenly another pair of hands is grabbing his. He looks into the face of tall dark and handsome, who is now shaking out his fist.

“Run,” he says, and Peter bolts after him.

#asks

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S BLOOD - CHAPTER 3

*Warning: Adult Content*

"Mister Hart?" Dane Hunter enquires, staring down at Julian Hart from beneath his dark angled brows. 

"Is everything alright?"

Julian stares back at the handsome detective in front of him, impressed once more by his beauty and the sheer size of him. 

He's almost as tall as the door frame. 

Dane is wearing dark cargo pants and a white t-shirt that seems barely able to contain all of him. 

It takes Julian some effort to drag his eyes away from the man’s pectoral expanse and focus on his face.

"Yeah. Sorry. I though you were my ex," Julian explains, blushing and nervously dragging his hands through his dark curls. 

"What can I do for you?" 

"Your ex?" Dane inquires, instead of answering his question.

 "The guy in the red pick-up truck I just passed on the road?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I thought he had come back," Julian says, nodding.

"Did you fight with him?" 

Julian squints at him, unsure how that could be any of his business. 

"Well no. Not today. He was fixing my leak. In my roof. The leak in my roof."

"Why is your ex fixing your leak?" Dane asks, his amber-coloured eyes narrow and Julian feels a twinge of annoyance.

"Am I under investigation or something? Last time I checked, having your ex do some maintenance is not a crime." 

"No. But assault is," Dane informs Julian, who feels whatever shred of colour in his face drain away. 

"What?" 

"That was Ian Foley, right?" he asks and Julian nods, nervously. 

"He's got priors. Two cases of assault. One from a women when he was in college and one from a man a few years back. He's a repeat offender and you seem upset. Are you sure he was just... fixing your leak?"

"Yes," Julian says but it comes out with no sound, so he clears his throat and tries again. 

"Yes, I'm sure. And how did you know all this? I thought you just transferred here."

"Yes. I did just transfer here but it's my business to know things, Mr Hart." 

Unless he's some kind of 'detective savant' it's seems unlikely he knows the criminal records of every resident of Spring Lakes already.

But if he's been checking up on Julian and the people around him, Ian Foley's name probably came up.

"Did you research me?" Julian asks, his anger still under the surface and it seems eager for a new target but he holds it back with an effort.

"I did," he admits easily. 

"You found the body, after all. It's not unheard of for the killer to be the one to report the crime." 

Julian crosses his arms and glares up at Dane, feeling like a meerkat facing down a lion. 

"And?" 

"You checked out." 

"What a relief,” Julian says, sarcastically. 

“So? Detective Hunter. What are you doing here?" 

And again Dane doesn't answer him directly.

"Can I come in?" he asks, raising a sharp brow at Julian, who kicks himself for appreciating the angle of the handsome detective’s cheekbone and the set of his jaw.

"Uh... Sure," Julian says, holding the door open wider and retreating inside a bit further. 

Dane steps inside and then lifting his head suddenly, causing his golden dreads to swing hypnotically, sniffs in deeply. 

Concerned that his house stinks, Julian does the same thing but he doesn't detect anything.

"What is it?" Julian asks, seeing a flash of amber in Dane's eyes as he glances at him and then to his astonishment he suddenly drops to the floor and starts to remove his boots. 

"Why are you taking off your shoes?" 

"Because I'm coming inside," he replies, looking at Julian like he was the one who didn't know about manners.

"Ah, Okay? I guess I can except that. Right?”

Julian perches himself against the back of his sofa waiting for the detective to finish removing his enormous boots and when he does, he lines them up next to a pair of trainers by the front door. 

His shoes look pathetically small by comparison. 

He never thought of himself as 'dainty' before but next to Dane’s, Julian’s shoes look like they would fit Cinderella.’

"It's a little early for drinking, Isn't it?" Dane comments, noticing the half-drunk beer on the hallstand.

Julian: ‘Nosey and judgemental. Charming.’

‘That is not mine. It was Ian Foley’s," Julian says quickly, annoyed at his desire not to be the target of the attractive detective’s disapproval. 

"Are you going to tell me why you are here, or not?" 

Once more, Dane doesn't answer the question but leans his hip against the sofa, close enough for his massive chest and Julian's slender arm to be only inches away. 

He holds Julian's gaze for several heartbeats too long.

"You have weird eyes," Dane states matter-factually and Julian gasps at him.

"Were you raised by wolves?"

For some reason he looks a little startled at this question.

"Why did you say that?" .

"Because you have terrible manners. I know I have weird eyes. I don't need you to tell me, thanks," Julian informs him. 

Dane doesn't answer for a few seconds, then replies more softly...

"I guess 'weird' isn't the right word," he corrects himself. 

"Your eyes are... unusual. I've never seen that colour on a human." 

"On a human?" Julian echos. 

"You are some kind of a freak. Do you know that?" 

Dane grins at Julian's statement and uncannily reveals his slightly long eye teeth, reinforcing the young psychic's opinion of him. 

They move to the kitchen where Julian drains the half-drunk beer down the sink, placing the empty bottle in the recycle bin, then perches on a stool at the kitchen counter, defensively crossing his arms across his chest.

"Are you going to tell me why you are here or not?" Julian snaps, his patience depleted at last. 

Dane’s expression sobers and he pulls out another stool from the counter and sits down. 

The proximity is a little too close for Julian’s overall wellbeing and comfort. 

Leaning against the counter, Dane finally gets to the point.

"It seems you were correct. Another body turned up this morning, near the river."

"Are you sure it's the same killer?" Julian asks Dane, who stares intensely at young psychic's face, before answering the question.

"We're sure it is. The body was found in the same condition. Same MO. On the other hand, just about everything else is different. The first victim was female, Caucasian, early twenties. The second was male, African American, late fifties. A killer whose sole motivation is to kill can be the hardest to catch and if this guy's on a killing spree, catching him is paramount. Chief Coleridge recommended your... expertise... on the matter." 

From the sour curl of Dane’s mouth, Julian gets the sense that by 'recommendation' he means 'insisted on'. 

"Okay," Julian says, leaning back on the kitchen stool, arms still crossed. 

"But you do know I have a phone, right? Why the house call?"

"Coleridge said you are better in your own environment,” Dane says, squinting at Julian, amused. 

“Fewer distractions. Something along those lines," he adds.

Chief Coleridge doesn't strike Julian as the overly caring type. 

Although, given what happened last time he read at a crime scene, he can see how she'd think precautions might be in order.

"She's not wrong," Julian admits, confidentially. 

"It's easier on me to do a reading here, where I can safely deal with the after-effects. But I'm actually more effective at the scene itself."

"We should go to the crime scene then," Dane says immediately, pushing himself off the kitchen stool. 

"Go get your things," 

"I didn't agree to anything yet," Julian points out, frowning at him.

"But you will, right? So go get your stuff and let’s go." 

By the time Julian's brain processes this example of brash arrogance, Detective Hunter has already put his boots back on and was waiting at the front door. 

His eagerness is palpable and Julian gets the impression of him as an over-grown German Shepard, standing at attention, leash in mouth. 

It's almost cute. 

Julian sighs in defeat. 

One has to pick ones battles, after all. 

He grabs his kit: painkillers, water bottle, extra dark sun-glasses, a protein shake and a blanket and follows the detective outside to his car. 

"You don't want to drive yourself? I won't be able to get you back home until six," Dane asks, glancing at Julian when he reaches for the passenger-side door.

"Didn't the Chief Coleridge tell you? I can't drive after a reading. Not for a few hours, anyway. You want me to read your crime scene, I'm your reasonability afterwards," Julian informs Dane, who scowls, not happy to hear this news and the young psychic scowls back at him.

Julian: ‘We are going to make a great team.’

                                                      ***

Dane is driving to the crime scene in silence. 

His car is a mid-size SUV, several years old and Julian notices that his car has an unusual smell to it. 

Not a bad smell, just an undertone of animal muskiness. 

Julian was just about to ask him if he owned a dog, when he realizes the smell is coming from the man sitting next to him. 

He leans in a bit closer and sniffs discreetly. 

It's like a mix of rich earth, clean fur and fresh cut grass. 

It's actually quite pleasant.

"What are you doing?' 

Julian looks up and realizes that he's leant halfway across the centre console and his face is very close to the attractive man's shoulder.

"Sorry," Julian says, sitting back in his seat, knowing his very pale skin is betraying every shade of heat in his face. 

"Smelling stuff helps me prepare my senses for a reading."

Julian: ‘That was bullshit and from the smirk on Dane's face, I knows I’m not fooling him.’

"Do I smell?"

"No. Well yes. You smell nice. What is that? Is it soap or deodorant?" 

"Nope. Just me," he says, lifting his arm and sniffing himself.

Julian: ‘He’s so weird. But then again, I'm the one who got caught smelling him.’

Julian decides that silence is preferable and keeps his attention on the view passing outside the window for the rest of the drive. 

The crime scene is on the west bank of ‘Crystal River’ which is really a large creek, flowing directly into and through town. 

A narrow swath of grass lines its banks, protecting the water from some of the natural pollution produced by human activity.

 A bridge spans the water near the centre of town divides the recreational area into the unimaginatively named West River Park and East River Park.

West River Park is more thickly wooded of the two. 

Dane drives onto the fire access road, nodding at the police officer guarding the entrance as they pass. 

He parks his SUV alongside the other official vehicles at the scene. 

Julian gets out and follows him towards the line of yellow tape around a thick patch of bushes near the water's edge. 

As they draw nearer, another police officer greets Dane but moves to block Julian's way when he tries to follow him across the line of tape.

"Sorry Sir, no civilians pass this point."

"He's with me," Dane says firmly. 

Julian hears a similar, obnoxious laugh at his back and turns to see Detective Erickson approaching with Chief Coleridge.

"Hunter and Hart. How cute," Erickson remakes, leering at Julian. 

Laura Coleridge addresses the officer blocking Julian's way.

"It's okay, Nguyen. He's official."  

The young police-officer nods and stands aside so that Julian can duck under the yellow tape and follow Dane across the dewy grass.

"What did Erickson mean by cute?" Dane inquires, his eyes fixed ahead, not turning to ask his question.

"He's just being a jerk," Julian replies, with a shrug. 

"Hart is an archaic term for a male deer, one that's old enough to be hunted." 

Dane grunts but for some weird reason, he looks pleased. 

A moment later, his expression resumes its usual, severely serious cast and they both approach the spot where a large piece of black plastic covers something on the ground.

Alright, Hart. Show us what you can do."

[treehouse-anon]

Another RP, this time fantasy. Lazy, but it's something.

The Bucking Boar tavern was the last stop at the edge of the dark forest. Sylvania had been traveling to collect magical artifacts for years, and her latest squire was holding up well. He was a puny human boy named Robert, and comically obedient. Whether her needed to carry all her bags across a swamp for 10 miles or massage her bum all night, he rarely complained. Sometimes, he would even… pleasure her, subserviently, but that was a shameful secret for an elf of her status, as functional and taboo as training a dog to lick her. Today, she had been on the horse all day, and she had let Robert ride behind her, slamming into him with her giant bum at every step. She was sore, and too tired to recruit, but they needed muscle for the dark forest ahead. While Robert tied up the horse, she went to her room, yawning and stretching. "Human boy, you go ahead and find the strongest warrior in the tavern, whatever it costs. And then meet me in my room with dinner. I need another massage…"

“Yes Sylvania! Right away” He replied as he finished tying the horse to the post. Robert watched Sylvania walk up to her quarters, that big booty he kept bumping into all day jiggling as she walked away. He looked to the tavern, hearing some hollering and a bottle crashing followed by more yells and laughs. The first thing he did was order some food for Syl then turned around to study the tavern. Folks drank and joked but one person seemed to stand out in the crowd. She was tall and imposing with tremendously wide hips who was destroying each man who attempted to arm wrestle with her! He realized that this is certainly who Sylvania would want and she wouldn’t accept any less. After watching her destroy another strong man in a competition, Robert approached. “Excuse me M’Lady” he started politely, drawing some snickers from others in the tavern. “I humbly request that you lend your services to the good lady Sylvania. We will pay you handsomely in return” He explained, feeling his face blush as many hardened men and women were looking at him!

The huge barbarian, with long braided red hair, was only wearing an armor bikini and a short plaid skirt. She yawned, and effortlessly slammed down the main trying to arm wrestle her. Then, she chugged an entire mug of ale in one gulp and turned to the pipsqueak, belching loudly in his face and blowing back his hair with the beefy smell of ale and roast meat. "UUURRPPPPPPPP~ Wh… what was that, twerp? Y-you wanted to fight huh? Think you can take me? You got uh- got a date with-kissing my fat ass you little runt…" She slurred, clearly drunk, got up and lifted Robert by his shirt with the crowd laughing.

Robert’s speech was cut short as she belched right in his face! The smell of beer invaded his nose as she began slurring her words, clearly drunk and not understanding him! “Wait no…” he started, trying to take a step back as she rose from her chair, towering over the squire! “I wasn’t saying I’ll fight you!” He said, his voice becoming more frantic as he was picked up by the collar of his shirt! His legs kicked a bit as he struggled to find the ground. “Please you’re not hearing me! We’ll pay you good!”

"Pay me, huh? You looking for some kind of URPP cheap whore? How much are you offering, to URP uh…" Laughing, she tossed him to the ground and jumped up, slamming her giant butt onto his chest, leaning back so her glistening cheeks were looming right over his face. It wasn't the first time he'd been pinned under a big ass, but this one was more dense and muscular, and covered in musky sweat. "How much coin you got? I have a high price for HIC a nice romantic kiss, with my sweaty ass cheeks HAHA! Tell me y-your budget and then I'll decide how long you can lick em." Her skirt barely covered her meaty rear, and neither did her loincloth cover her hairy red bush.

“No not like that either… you’re not understanding-!” Robert said as he was pushed over, knocking over a chair as he landed on his back! He barely had a moment to react before she jumped onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him! He could hear people murmuring and laughing as they watched the drunk barbarian have her fun. He looked up at that glistening rear as he wheezed, greedily sucking in as much air as he could with her sitting high up on his chest! “H-here…” He said, his voice quiet as he fumbled with the bag of coins on his waist! It was tough to get it off since he couldn’t see past the massive ass cheeks taking up his vision. He could feel the warmth coming off her body as he finally got the coins loose, raising them up to her as best he could!

Sonja got quiet and leaned forward to coin the coins, muttering. She was so focused that she didn't realize she had scooted back and smothered Robert's face in between her cheeks, making it impossible to breathe anything but sweat odors. "Wow, you got a lot of hic money. Usually they just hired me for urpppp my axe, but sure, if some little pervert wants to keep me around a few weeks and kiss my butt all day, I won't say no to the money. Let's shake on it. And to seal the deal~" She grabbed his hand tightly, and then leaned to one side and let out an explosive fart directly into his face, smelling exactly like the cured meat and fermented cabbage they sold at this tavern. The whole crowd laughed and went back to their own business.

Robert’s hands reached up, grabbing on the barbarian’s sweaty ass cheeks! As she counted the coins, she didn’t realize that Robert’s face slipped beneath her rear! His head was hidden by her skirt as his face was pressed tightly against her uncleanly knickers! Robert groaned as he couldn’t get her to budge off him! The smell of her musk overwhelmed his senses, even as he was smothered beneath her! Once it seemed she had accepted his offer she peeled a bit of her ass off his face and he gasped deeply, right as she farted on him! He immediately went into a fit of coughing and gagging as he rolled on the floor, feeling humiliated! “Okay….” he said, “Can you get off me now? I need to return to my lady’s chambers and we have a busy day tomorrow!” He said, hoping she would get off him fully!

She snorted, laughed, and reached back to grab his head and motorboat him between her cheeks one last time, leaving his hair messed up and his face covered in even more butt sweat. Then, she finally got up and stumbled back to another mug of ale, burping and scratching her butt. "See you tomorrow, twerp… tell your boss to hire me herself next time and not send some pervy little squire!" Meanwhile, in her room, Sylvania was reading her spellbook and laying on her stomach, with her large bottom sticking up. She sipped a glass of wine and spoke without turning to the door, "Did you get the food? I'm starving…"

Robert slowly got to his feet, his face flushed hot with embarrassment as he could feel people watching him as he tried to wipe off her ass sweat from his face! Despite getting most of the sweat off, he was going to have trouble removing the stink! He didn’t have time however as the food for Sylvania came out and he wanted to deliver it to her hot! He quickly arrived at her room, seeing her laying in bed, reading with a glass of wine! “Yes I did. I also found us a barbarian for the voyage” He said, setting the plate down on her bed and quickly stepping back, hoping she didn’t notice the smell of ass lingering on him!

"Mhm," she nodded coldly, still reading her book. She took the plate of hearty tavern food and started cutting it into delicate bites, then gestured with a pat on her butt. He knew what this meant - she needed another massage. Sylvania was heavyset for an elf, and embarrassed about it sometimes. Her extra cushioning made her sore on long journeys, so it was important to have a squire who could do deep tissue massage.

Without responding, Robert knew what he was supposed to do. He hopped up on the bed and got on his knees right below Sylvania’s ass! As he looked at her peachy butt, he couldn’t help but think of being smothered in the tavern, just moments ago! The thought made him hesitate a moment but he reached forward and began massaging her butt, kneading and pushing into the soft flesh. He squeezed her cheeks, pushing them together and rubbing all over as he looked to her face to see if she was content.

With his face right up close to the huge soft mounds, he could smell her natural flowery fragrance. Then, something happened he was never expecting. A gentle squeak, and he felt a blast of warm air that smelled like spicy food with hints of cinnamon. Sylvania giggled. "I used a scrying spell to watch you in the tavern… it seems like this is a human custom to show dominance over males? And I detected an elevated heartbeat. Do you appreciate it? Or are you disappointed it's not as powerful as that human woman's? You should have told me sooner that this is how your species forms bonds of servitude."

Robert was taken aback as the booty he was massaging suddenly erupted a little bit! The warm air hit his face as he scrunched his nose a bit at the smell! “Oh you saw that…” He said, face growing red once more from embarrassment as his heart picked up! “I dont think its a normal thing… She was awfully intoxicated, perhaps one to many ales”

Sylvania's cheeks clenched and flexed, and he could hear her grunt, but then she sighed. "That's all I have for now, but I'll try to get better at it. I can sense an awestruck feeling in you, like you're amazed at seeing something from a being so high and mighty, or, rather smelling. Hehe. That could be useful, to make you more loyal to me and protective. After all, not many human boys have gotten a present like that from an elf. From now on, you might be sharing a sleeping bag with that human woman though, so I can have some space and comfort. We will find her in the morning, good night!"

[khodorkovskaya]

i want to write a little something about our relationship bc it's very therapeutic. sorry if this is tmi or whatever. im just a bit nostalgic... but at the same time im realising how our relationship was doomed and unhealthy from the start.

I’m seventeen.

The club is full. I’m trying to find my group of friends in the crowd.

He’s standing by the wall. I notice him right away. He’s swaying to the music, grinning to himself, glass of beer in his hand. He’s tall. He has a sharp profile and big dark eyes that reflect the glittering lights of the stage. He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

I hate men. All they want to do is touch me. They want to rip off my clothes and grope me in a dark alleyway, force themselves down my throat when I’m drunk, shove their faces in my crotch on the bed at a hotel room, while my mum thinks I’m at my friend’s house. They’re incapable of tenderness. They’re incapable of being human. Even my own father is incapable of understanding what I truly need. I blocked him on Facebook and I never want to see him again.

He’s standing in the corner by the stage. The music is getting louder, but I can’t focus on anything else but him. Is he alone? Who’s the girl next to him? Did he notice me? Is he just like me, unable to see anything else in the room, distracted by my presence? Does he feel as warm as he looks? Could he hold me the same way the musician on stage is holding his accordion? Would his dark eyes glitter at the sight of me? I take a step forward.

It’s not that easy. A putrid monster stands in my way, licking its lips, reaching my hands out to me.  

“Let’s dance,” it says, grabbing me, squeezing my waist. I resist. “Come on,” the monster insists. “Just one dance.” I push it away.

Another step forward, a step towards my happiness. He doesn’t notice me. I persist.

“Hey,” I whisper in his ear. He takes my hand. He’s warm. We sway together. As he takes out his phone to type in my number, I feel like the planets have aligned. I have found him. I’m not alone anymore.

*

I’m seventeen. I’m listening to Lana Del Rey while putting on my makeup.

“Where are you going?” my mum asks.

“I have a date,” I say. It’s the first time in a while that I tell her the truth.

“A date?” she asks. “Where? With whom?”

“A guy I met last week. We’re going for a walk by the lake at [X],” I explain. It’s the second time that a man invites me to meet there. The first time was with a stranger, who touched me up on one of the benches in the cold silence of the night. It made me throw away the frilly top I wore that time. But my mum doesn’t know that. And I tell myself it’s going to be different this time. I put on a shirt and button it up to my collar bones, telling myself that it will protect me. “I will be home before 10, I promise,” I tell my mum.

I look at myself in the mirror and spray Bulgary Omnia in my hair and between my legs. I’m wearing low rise bootcut jeans I got from my dad’s wife, white boots and a thin brown leather coat. My jawline is outlined with bronzer, my eyes with thick eyeliner. I’m scared that it will come off if anything happens. I hug my mum and leave.

*

“I don’t know… More than 25, but less than 30,” I tell my mum, as I’m getting ready for our second date.

“More than 25?” she gasps. “You’re a minor, do you understand?”

“Yeah, but he’s nice!” I object. “He’s very polite! It’s fine!”

“What does he even do in life?” mum asks.

“I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it,” I say.

“Well what did you talk about then? You don’t know his age, you don’t know what he does. What did you even talk about? Do you even know his name?”

I roll my eyes. I want to tell her about our first date, but she wouldn’t understand. And honestly, I don’t understand any of it myself. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t force himself on me, he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth while holding the back of my head. Was he bored with me? We just talked about the music we liked and he bought me a drink. He told me he was from Yugoslavia and showed me a punk-rock band he likes. He said his dream is to have lots of kids and a house in the countryside. I like him dream.

This time we meet during the day in the city centre. He kisses me on the lips with no tongue. We bump into his mum while crossing the road. I hear him speak Serbo-Croatian. I’m taken aback. I guess all roads lead to the Balkans, huh? There is no escape from my father, even though it’s been two weeks since I have blocked him, I think.

We talk about horoscopes and school and the weather. He takes me to a park and then we walk past a cemetery. I try not to act scared, imagining what would happen if he tore open my button up. What would I tell my mum? Could I saw the buttons back on before she would notice? But he doesn’t even stop to lead me into the bushes while nobody is around. We just walk side by side and chat about nothing. He says he made vegetable soup last night and that he liked dinosaurs when he was a kid. I say that I’m eighteen.

We arrive at his place. It does indeed smell like soup. I notice a vinyl record of “Moscow evenings” stuck to the bright yellow wall for decoration. It makes me smile.

We put on an Emir Kusturica film with Bulgarian subtitles. I’m too distracted by how soft his jumper is and the fact that his hand is on my thigh. I’m wondering why he doesn’t touch me. There’s no one around. He can just fuck me right then are there, right? Why doesn’t he? What’s he waiting for?

He turns to me and smiles when the film gets ridiculous. He caresses my thigh shily. He kisses me sometimes. I want more. I don’t understand what all of this is for.

And then it finally happens. He puts his warm hand on my cheek and kisses me. We lower the sofa bed and kiss for what feels like eternity. He carefully puts his hand on my waist, as if checking the water temperature before getting in. I don’t want him to stop. But he’s hesitant to continue and I don’t understand why.

He pulls away and looks at my eyes. I hope they glitter just like his do. He hugs my shoulder and we continue the film. Does he not like me?

He kisses me again. And again. It’s been hours. He tugs on the zipper of my jeans. Finally! But he still takes forever, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, button by button. I’m relieved. At least my clothes will stay intact.

I brace myself, prepared for the worst, clenching my fists.

He enters me. I want to scream. It feels like heaven. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I want to cry. It feels like taking a bath. He’s warm. His jumper is soft. He feels like home. He feels like the warm waves of the sea in Ulcinj. He feels like the heat of a late summer evening. He feels like honey and orange carnations, like the sunset, like the memory of sunny afternoon on a night filled with the sound of cicadas and the smell of pine. He feels like everything and I want to scream.  

He doesn’t move for a while. He looks at me to see if he can continue.

I hold on to him. I want to dissolve into him. I want to become one with him. I want to scream. I want to be a crystal chalice he can pour his soul into. I want him to plant coral peonies on my breasts. I want us to melt together like the golden sand and the silk turquoise of the sea. I don’t want us to separate. Ever. I scream and wrap my arms around him and don’t let go.

He comes and I put my head on his chest while he hugs me. He looks at me with an air of complicity and we chuckle. He says I’m beautiful.

He gets of the bed and disappears for a while. He comes back with a bowl of vegetables and a knife.

“I want to make soup,” he says. I laugh. He hands me a big celery root and I peal it, wrapped in a duvet, while he’s in a towel. I find myself thinking that I don’t feel like I have just had sex. I feel normal and comfortable. Did it even happen?

“My god,” he giggles. His penis has become hard again. He puts the vegetable bowl on the desk and gets on top of me again. “I think we have to stop,” he says, smiling. “Or else there will be no end to this.” We laugh, looking into each other’s eyes. We get dressed and he walks me home. I can’t stop smiling.

*

The next day I get ready for my ritual. I turn the tap all the way to the left and prepare to hit my skin with steaming hot water. To make it red. To feel clean. I open YouTube to play Tsoi to make me think about despair and my hopelessness. But it doesn’t feel necessary anymore.

I’m confused. I look at my naked body and think about him touching me. It doesn’t disgust me. The thought of him kissing my breasts makes me smile. I don’t want to wash myself; I want to stay this way; I want to always have a trace of his touch on my body. I love him.

#snapshots of B

[drakenology]

𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  ♡  𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass. 

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy. 

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts. 

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form. 

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip. 

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something. 

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into? 

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders. 

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down. 

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury. 

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face. 

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub. 

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.” 

 He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock. 

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar. 

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him. 

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth. 

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude. 

“Thanks.” 

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. 

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing. 

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm. 

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more. 

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts. 

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off. 

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance. 

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry. 

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come. 

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car. 

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home. 

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in. 

#haikyuu!! smut #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu smut #.club specials 💗💋 #.vice city 🎲

[sambuckylibrary]

MODERN AUS/NO POWERS

i wanna savour, save it for later by caramelle

NR | 6.4k | no warnings apply

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

meet me in the a.m. by hearleyhearts

T | 3.1k | no warnings apply

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore

M | 84k | ccntw (check tags)

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

ill-advised methods of flirting by yourstrulytay

T | 8.5k | no warnings apply

Bucky hasn’t worked at the university long, and in the time that he has been here, he’s managed to keep mostly to himself—apart from the occasional visit from Peggy or Sharon, his students are the only people with who he has regular conversations. And yes, he knows that that’s kind of sad, alright? He just… doesn’t do well with new people. And well- there is Sam Wilson, who is kind, and funny, and friendly to a fault and who will not leave Bucky alone… not that he really wants him to. It’s kind of refreshing the way that Sam refuses to be intimidated or deterred by Bucky’s surliness.

The Doctor Is In by Rachel_Carter

GA | 5.1k | no warnings apply

Bucky's usual doctor is on leave, and his replacement is tall, dark, and handsome. Good thing Bucky is always injured.

AU in which Sam Wilson went to medical school and Bucky Barnes is an accident-prone mess.

How Sweet It Is by indyluckycharlie

T | 18k | no warnings apply

It’s a cold day in July and Business is slow, but sometimes, all you need is one customer, the right customer, to turn the day around.

Stolen Moments by jemgirl

T | 98k | ccntw (check tags), emotional abuse (not sambucky)

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

When in Fratty Rome by ElisabethMonroe

E | 5.1k | no warnings apply

Technically, Sam doesn't have a 'No Frat Bros' rule. Technically, Sam should implement one

Hot Wheels by mambo

T | 1.2k | no warnings apply

Listen, Sam doesn't mean to get into an hour and a half long fight over a parking space, but like hell is he going to be the one to lose it.

The Best of Men by iwillnotbecages

E | 14k | small mention of PTSD

Steve and Peggy are getting married, and Steve wants his two best friends by his side. The only problem? They kind of hate each other.

The Expert by glittercake

GA | 2.3k | no warnings apply

"Hmm." Sam has already taken off his jacket and hung it by the door; he's now just in that tight t-shirt clinging on for dear life around his biceps. He snaps on some protective gloves, circling the table, "How old did you say?"

"Oh.. uh, I'm twenty-five in March—"

Sam's eyebrow goes up, and his tongue wets his mouth corner.

"You mean the artifact." Bucky flushes bright red in an instant.

"I mean the artifact." Sam confirms, but he's holding back a smile again.

#marvel #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fanfic #sambuckylibrary #sambucky fanfiction #completed #one shots #chaptered #alternate universe #masterlist #mod: megan #userpavi #tusersammy #usersamanne #usermouffe #tusermadi #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[bokugaos]

A Little Reminder.

length: 2.5k

tags: nsfw, kuroo x f!reader, possessive kuroo, alcohol, penetration, bathroom sex, against the door/wall, mirror, creampie, love bites, jealous sex, walk of shame

a/n: for @mrs-kuroojinguji​ ;; the mrs kuroo bc my babe is in heat in pain rn ♡ kinda an expansion of a blurb from a few weeks ago ( 〃▽〃) and bc possessive tetsu is so mf yum dammit

Kuroo Tetsurou is a lot of things.

Smart, naturally. A captain, selfless in his endeavours to bring the name of his school and fellow teammates against his rivals, some of those who are technically his friends if he could so admit. Arrogant, yes, though he’d be remiss to call himself that. Not quite boisterous, but he knows he carries a certain charm and flair.

But there is one thing that Kuroo Tetsurou is not.

And it is patient.

 He leans his forearms against the bar, peeling at the moist label that is already coming off of the cold beer bottle he is holding. He glances at his watch, exhaling heavily through his nose. He drums his fingers against the side of the dark glass. You are late.

Kuroo is about to pull out his phone to text you when, over the buzz of the crowd and the music blaring from the speakers above, he hears the door open and close. 

He glances over and bite his lip slightly when he sees you walk in. You’re wearing red—his favorite color, the dress clinging to your curves like absolute sin.

Your hair cascades over your shoulder, exposing the side of your neck and your collarbone to the stale air of the bar. You spot him and start to walk over when someone blocks your path.

Kuroo looks on, irate. He downs the rest of his beer and gets up.

He shoves past a few people on his way over to you. You are talking animatedly to a rather handsome looking guy, but from what he can gather, none of the words you are saying to him are “fuck off”. He is tall and broad-shouldered, his hair is of a color that Kuroo absolutely despises, swept in a stylish pompadour. His teeth are blindingly white. He reminds Kuroo of the newly hired interns in his office.

You actually have a smile on your face and lean in to touch his arm. Kuroo feels jealousy rush through his entire being, lighting every nerve on fire.

“Tetsu!” You greet him once he finally catches up to you. You gently touches his shoulder. “Tetsu, this is my friend. And this is Tetsurou.”

“Nice to meet you,” They shook hands, and Kuroo tried to be polite. But his neutral face always holds a hint of annoyance, so he’s not sure if he’s being convincing in the slightest, not that he cares.

“Do you mind if he joins us for drinks?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Kuroo bites back a groan as you gaze up at him with those eyes that he can never refuse. “Fine.” 

You squeeze his hand appreciatively and the three of you find an empty booth to sit in. Kuroo moves to go sit next to you, but the other guy is quicker, and slides into the seat beside yours, forcing your own boyfriend to sit across from you. 

Your friend orders a round of drinks, and Kuroo sits there nursing his beer as the other man intrudes on what’s supposed to be time that you and him are supposed to have alone together for the first time in weeks.

—

Kuroo Tetsurou is many things.

Jealous is definitely one of them.

He watches as this man he doesn’t know wraps his arm around your waist in what is supposed to be a jovial sideways hug, but it doesn’t escape his notice that his hand lingered on you a moment too long, traveling southbound to rest on your ass, and that he leaned in a little too close.

Kuroo’s fingers grip onto the beer bottle, and he imagines it closing around the other man’s throat. Not that he’d ever actively try to hurt a lesser man outside the court, but the thought makes him feel better, at least.

Your friend leans over and whispers something into your ear and you laugh, the slight bounce making your skirt ride a little upwards, exposing even more skin. That is the last straw.

Kuroo slams his beer bottle against the table and both you and the man jump in your seats.

“Didn’t you say you need to use the bathroom to freshen up?” Kuroo asks, sounding both calm and polite. He casts a cursory glance to the other guy. “It’s your first time here, I’ll show you where it is.”

You nod and nudge your friend to take his hand off of you. Kuroo grabs you by the wrist and drags you toward the back of the bar. He leads you over to the bathrooms, ducks his head into the ladies room, and when he sees that it’s empty, he pulls you inside and locks the door behind him.

“Tetsu, what—” 

In an instant, your back is against the door and Kuroo is pressing his body flush against yours. His lips attack your own, one hand gripping at your waist and the other sliding under your ass to hook a leg over his hip. The muffled music blasted outside, making the door vibrate. You wonder in the back of your mind if the people outside can hear you.

You moan as his tongue slides into your mouth at the same time as his groin grinds against yours, pinning you there as you wiggle against him.

You place your hands on his shoulders and gently push him back, desperate for air. Panting, you let out a short, breathy laugh. “Is something wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong,” he growls, and you hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, along with the zipper of his fly. His mouth comes to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and nibbling on it gently. “Did you like it when he was touching you?”

“Tetsu,” you pant as he sucks at the exposed skin of your neck before biting down, marking you with his teeth and sucking bruises along your collarbone. “I don’t under—”

“Didn’t know you’re such a slut.” He spits, hiking up the short length of your skirt over your hips, his rough, calloused hands sliding up and down the underside of your thigh. His lips came to hover over yours. “But I’m the only one who can touch you like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely over a whisper. You feel his clothed dick leaning against your core, your panties already soaked.

“Tell me,” he scoffs, coming in to bite at your lower lip. His hand that’s on your waist slides lower, under your skirt, and slides your ruined underwear to the side. “Do you think he can make you feel good?”

You whimper as you feel him rubbing his cock against your slick entrance, your arms are looped around his neck and grip at the back of his shirt as you try to push your hips against his. He retreats slightly, and his frown turns into a slight smirk.

“You think he can fuck you like I do?”

“No, no one else can,” you moan as he rubs his length against your core again, giving special attention to your clit with his thumb. “I’m all yours. Need you so bad, please fuck me, please—”

Before you even have a chance to finish speaking, Kuroo thrusts into you, hard, and you cry out for him to hear. His cock is big and hot, and it stretches you almost painfully as your body adjusts to his length. His lips are on yours again and he shoves his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you against the door, his hands gripping onto you tightly as you try to keep up with his rough pace. 

Your mouth falls away from his and you let out a cry as he pumps into you hard and deep, the head of his cock grazing deliciously against your walls.

“That’s right, baby,” Kuroo grunts, burying his nose into your hair to breathe in your scent. “Let everyone in this fucking bar know who you belong to.”

“Tetsu,” you gasp as his nails dig into your skin. Then his hand slides downwards, further down to your clit, and starts furiously rubbing circles against it. “S-So good—ahhh..!” 

Kuroo pulls you forward so that your shoulders are the only part of you against the door and grabs onto your hips, dragging you towards him with every forward thrust of his own. He hits you so deep it almost hurts.

“Louder,” he orders, rolling his hips just right. “Scream my name louder.”

Your head falls back and you do as commanded, screaming his name as your walls clenched hard around his shaft. He pulls out, and you thought he’s going to come as well, but instead he grabs a hold of your arm.

He leads you over to the sinks and bends you over, your arms resting against the cool porcelain. You can see him staring at you in the reflection of the mirror, his predatory gaze fixated on you. He grabs the skirt of your dress and hikes it up over your waist, exposing your shapely ass in the red lace you decided to wear that night.

Kuroo takes a second to appreciate the sight before moving your panties to the side again and burying his cock into your folds once more.

You bite back a moan as the head of his cock drags against your walls, and he strokes inside of you slowly a few times, dragging out each movement as his hands grip your ass, smoothing over the skin appreciatively.

 You watch his reflection in the mirror as he thrusts into you, taking his time. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if in deep concentration, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His cheeks are slightly reddened, almost like he’d run a great distance, and his mouth is agape as quiet grunts escaped past his lips.

He catches your gaze in the mirror and he smirks. You can’t look away, too entranced by his eyes as they bore into yours. He slams into you, causing you to jerk forward, gripping onto the sides of the sink as your breasts threaten to spill out of the top of your dress. 

“Keep your eyes on me, kitten,” Kuroo orders as he fucks you hard, the sound of skin slapping filling the small room. You nod weakly and try your best to keep your knees from buckling as his cock works you perfectly with every rough thrust of his hips. 

“Tetsu,” you reach back for his hand. “Please, I’m so close!”

 Kuroo leans forward to kiss the back of your shoulder, and brings his hand around to your clit. His fingers graze against it, and the feeling makes you twitch, but otherwise he doesn't move.

“Beg me for it.”

 Your head hangs low for a moment before looking back up at his reflection. “...again?”

He thrusts into you hard, just once, and then holds you there, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. You cry out his name.

“Please, Tetsu! I need it, I need you, please let me come, please—”

 He starts fucking you again, his speed picking up along with the roughness of his thrusts. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you whimper as he pummels into you over and over again.

“Say my name. Louder.”

“Tetsu—”

His dick pounds against you, and your mouth fall open.

 “Tetsurou—!”

“Now keep your eyes on the mirror,” he grunts as his fingers start working against your clit. “I want you to see what you look like, falling apart and coming hard on my cock.” 

Your face is flushed, your eyelids fluttering as you try to watch yourself hurtling toward bliss in the mirror. “I want you to remember that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.”

His smirk still held in your periphery, and you keep your eyes on your own reflection for as long as you can before the sensation of his hands and his length inside of you becomes too much. You come, screaming his name, collapsing against the sink as your walls flutter around him. He follows you off the edge, spilling his seed inside of you as you try to catch your breath.

Kuroo rests his forehead against your shoulder as he slips out of you. You turn to face him, adjusting the skirt of your dress before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss. 

The kiss is surprisingly gentle, in contrast with the sex you just had. His hands cup the sides of your face and stroked gently at your cheekbones as he drinks you in. Your hands run appreciatively over his chest before you slip your hands between your bodies to help tuck his now softening cock back in his pants.

“What was that for?” you ask in a quiet voice as you pull away, your thumb coming up to graze against his right cheek.

“Nothing,” he lies. “I just missed you.”

You shake your head, a knowing smile on your lips. “He’s a friend, that’s all. He’s harmless, I promise!”

“Never seen a friend act like that towards me,” Kuroo counters, glaring off to the side. You chuckle and kiss him again, wiping the frown from his face.

You turn to check your reflection and see the bruises from Kuroo’s devilish mouth littering your neck and collarbone. You move your hair away from that side of your neck, making sure that the marks are in full view, knowing full well he’d particularly appreciate it if you don’t hide the reminder he left on your skin.

“I think everyone will know who I belong to,” you grin, stepping up onto your tiptoes to kiss him on the nose. “Now, come on. I’m not doing the walk of shame on my own out of this bar. You started it, so now you have to finish it.”

Kuroo chuckles and unlocks the bathroom door. He puts arm around your waist and you exit, standing tall with your chin up as the people around you regard you with wide eyes. The music still pulses around the room, and people are still talking amongst themselves and having a good time, but there are definitely several eyes on you both as you make your way back to your booth.

This time, you slide into the seat next to Kuroo as you get back, and the aforementioned man stares at you both. 

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, clearing your throat. Under the table, your hand comes to rest on Kuroo’s thigh. He leans back in his seat, his arm slung over your shoulders. He sends him a grin and a wink as he follows the line of his vision to where the numerous hickeys had formed on your skin.

Kuroo Tetsurou is a lot of things.

Smug is definitely one of them.

#kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #.kuroo! #.fics!

[omgreally]

AHHH CONGRATS ON 800 FOLLOWERS, BABE!!!

So well deserved and I love you for blessing my dash daily!!!

Here is my request if you would like to write it 👀:

Javier Peña because I can never get enough of that man apparently.

Angst/Yearning/Pining: mutual pining please 🤞🏻 but honestly you do you because I will read whatever you churn out.

Thank you so much! aaaaaaaaa it's good to be here with you lovely people <3

Here is a little bit of pining and adults being dumb but it's all resolved in the end i promise

Javier Peña/F!Reader - E - 2.1k Words - Warnings: Javi being Javi a shameless philanderer, jealousy, Reader being (a little) hard-to-get, oral (f receiving), fingerplay, mutual yearning that is very quickly resolved

The bar stinks of spilled beer and stale sweat, sweltering in the late summer heat. You sigh as you drag a sticky rag over the wooden bartop, succeeding only in making its surface that much stickier. Your once-white sneakers are now anything but.

Yet, you still keep working here.

You tell yourself that you don’t have a choice - but the reality is, even though the invitation has been extended, to go home now would be admitting defeat. It would be tantamount to saying to your parents: You were right. I couldn’t do it.

You will stick this out, you tell yourself. No matter how many late nights you have to work in this dive.

At least it’s a cop bar - flooded by agents and officers from the nearby American building. Some of them have even become regulars. You didn’t pay much attention. Not until a tall, broad-shouldered stranger swaggered in, already smiling at you beneath his moustache.

You made a point of ignoring his advances. You don’t have time for that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself - meanwhile, you blush every time you catch him looking at you from across the bar, you glance away when he laughs, and your scoffing disdain is all for show. You like the tall, dark, handsome stranger’s attention. And he can drink like nobody’s business.

He can also pull the women like nobody’s business. Sometimes you see him alone, but by the end of the night he usually has some bimbo or other on his arm. You try not to feel jealous - really you do. But in your ratty sneakers and your beer-soaked shirt behind the bar, you feel invisible.

Until he starts coming in alone more often. The stranger. He doesn’t talk much, surprisingly, but he smokes a lot, and the drink - you lose count at four beers, twelve fingers of whiskey and counting. You know he’s in a mood when he starts on the whiskey.

This night, he’s lurking up the other end of the bar, the end you haven’t ‘cleaned’ yet. Slowly, and against your better judgment, you make your way over. You tell yourself it’s just to catch some of the breeze from the electric fan in the corner, buzzing air into the close space.

“What’s wrong?”

You speak English to him because he understands, but your Spanish isn’t bad. You understand the nicknames he calls you, anyway.

“Ah, nothing, bebita.” Your lips curl; this one you don’t like, but he’s too busy staring into his empty glass to notice. “Everything. Never thought a fuckin’ promotion would kick my ass so bad.” He looks up, and there’s something empty in his smile. “Thanks for asking. Can I get another?”

“Bar’s closed,” you say shortly, despite the fact you’re still here, standing behind it. You shift your weight onto one foot then the other. “You want me to call you a cab? I know a local guy that won’t even try to rob you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. I can walk.” All evidence to the contrary - he splays his palm on the sticky bar and hauls himself to his feet - briefly - falling back against it. You’re halfway round to help him before he’s sinking back onto the stool.

“Never mind. You got coffee?”

“Yeah.” Something about his broken sigh of thanks gets to you - niggles at you - chewing at some piece of your brain that blares with empathy. You try to ignore it, but it’s too strong. Out back, you pour two mugs from the pot and bring them out, steaming.

Javier mumbles his thanks as you sit on the stool beside him and slide his mug over. You both sip the hot, black coffee in appreciative silence for a moment.

“You a cop?” you ask him eventually, and he shrugs.

“I thought so, once. Back when I first started coming here. Now...I don’t know what I am.”

And you don’t know what the fuck that means, so you just shrug and sip. “Bummer.”

He laughs again at that, nudging your shoulder with his. “See, that’s why I keep coming here, bebita. I like you.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you scoff, shaking your head - but you made the mistake of making eye contact, and he’s locked on, now.

You start to wonder if he stopped picking up girls here for a reason.

You don’t mind if he was, you decide.

“Javier. Call me Javi,” he says, extending his hand into the small space between you. You spin on the stool for a moment, reaching out to toe the bottom of his with your smudged sneakers. You watch him lick his lips, a quick dart of his tongue beneath the fringe of his moustache.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

“Well, Javi,” you say as you back up, ignoring his hand - sliding off the stool and onto your feet, “Bar’s closed, so you’re gonna have to make your way home now.”

“Home,” he mutters. He doesn’t fight this time. And this time, he’s a little steadier as he gets to his feet; he drains the rest of his coffee with one pull and sets the mug on the bar. “Right.”

You hesitate as he turns towards the door. “Javi.” Your heart skips in your chest as he turns.

You swallow past the lump in your throat to speak: “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He looks at you a moment, blinks. Then he smiles - not the hollow echo-expression from before, but a real, genuine, eye-crinkling smile. “Of course, bebita,” he says, winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Now it’s your turn to lean against the bar, unsteady. You can’t help but feel like you’re making a terrible mistake - but you decide you’ll be damned if you don’t have a good time doing it.

~

Javier is at the bar the next night.

He is a little cleaner this time - a little neater - his tie is cinched and his hair is swept back. Privately, you think he looked better bedraggled, but that’s just your own secret opinion.

“Evening, princesa,” he drawls as he slides onto the stool in front of you. You fetch him a Corona from the fridge, uncap it and set it in front of him, popping the slice of lemon into the neck all without a word. You know what he likes.

“Princesa, now? I’ve been promoted?”

“Something like that.” His teeth flash in a too-practiced grin. He raises the beer to you. “Salud.”

You mirror the motion with the water hose as you rinse down the wetback, watching him from underneath your eyelashes.

He doesn’t sit back and scan the bar like he usually does. He usually takes in his environment first - the people - maybe notice a girl or two even though it’s early in the night. This time, he sits facing inward. Facing you. And he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

“Okay, this is getting creepy,” you say after about fifteen minutes of this - after tolerating his gaze on your back as you served other customers away from him. You slam your hands down onto the bar either side of him and glare over it at him. “What is your deal?”

“I want to take you on a date.”

“What?” you fumble, trying not to sputter - that was the last thing you expected. Sure, you expected him to try hitting on you, but not so...so damn earnestly. But he’s staring at you with twin creases of concern between his eyebrows as if he’s nervous for your answer, and you never noticed how brown his eyes are before - you thought they were just dark but you can see now that no, they’re actually brown; deep, dark brown.

“A date?” he continues, holding up his hands, “You know...two adults go somewhere nice, spend time together…”

“Here is not ‘somewhere nice’,” you say, stepping back as you shake your head. You’re about to turn away, but Javier’s next words reel you in.

“Not here. I’d take you somewhere else. Somewhere nice.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious. You stare at him.

“You think a girl like me belongs somewhere nice?” you manage after a minute, looking down at yourself. At your sweaty shirt, your ripped shorts, your dirty sneakers.

When you look up, it’s into Javi’s eyes.

“Of course, princesa. Of course.”

~

“Fuck - Javi - “

You made it all the way to his door before he was, quite literally, falling at your feet. Pushing at the hem of your skirt, the one you’d hastily changed into as soon as you got home before heading out to meet him - Javier Peña - for a date.

A date that goes...really well, actually.

You learn his last name, he asks for your first. You talk about where you’re from, how you ended up in Cali. He tells you about Texas. About his earlier career. You tell him you never really followed all of that drug lord business - he seems grateful, although he says you picked the wrong country to move to.

You talk about music and movies and normal things and he smokes and you find you don’t mind it. You don’t mind the taste of tobacco on his breath as he kisses you goodnight - and then you ask him why he hasn’t invited you back to his place.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he says, his brow wrinkled in that familiarly earnest expression. You wonder if it’s a put-on but you don’t care. It works. And now you’re being pressed against the front door of his apartment, his head underneath your skirt.

Underneath your skirt and his mouth is hot on your cunt through your underwear and you gasp - pressing your knuckles against your mouth - feeling your lips compress against your teeth as he sucks spreading moisture into the cotton over your clitoris.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, and he chuckles, a warm puff of air across the wet crotch of your panties.

“I haven’t even gotten started, hermosa,” he purrs, and you ache for him to dive back in, but instead he pulls back and rises to his feet, reaching around you to fit his key to the door.

You practically stumble inside - kissing, pawing at each other’s clothes - his belt hits the floor with a thwack and his shoes follow, yours toed off as you step backward. The backs of your calves hit up against something - and almost before you’ve realized it’s a couch you’re falling back onto it.

Fortunately, it’s large and comfortable and it smells like Javi, like impossibly dark, impossibly brown eyes staring at you from across the smoky, sticky bar.

Your skirt’s rolled up to your waist, your panties at your knees - your shirt and bra somewhere else - Javi’s mouth is magical against your neck, his tongue on your collarbone, your breast, your nipple. You groan and grab handfuls of his hair, and he rewards you with his hand cupping your mound, two fingers dipping through your damp lips to begin an aching slide into the flexing warmth of your pussy.

His fingers are curling - clever - and thrusting before you have time to adjust to the sensation, and he finds your clit with his thumb and devastating precision. Still he’s swapping from your tit to your mouth, sucking greedily at one, teasing the other with short sweeps of his tongue, his upper lip scraping your sensitive skin - and you love it.

He can tell. “Gonna come for me, mi pequeña princesa?” he whispers once, against your neck, and your body answers for you - arching up - grinding your hips into the grip of his hand as the wave hits you. It washes away all logical thought, all sense, replaced only by feel as your body tenses and roils - heat flaring in your pelvis - muscles spasming in a rapid pattern of clench-release, clench-release around the delicious slide of Javi’s fingers.

He soothes you through it, massaging your clit until you start jerking away from him, and then he withdraws and wipes his hand on your thigh. Your eyes are closed, your body boneless. You expect him to maybe fumble with a condom and start to fuck you - or to just ask you to suck him off. But no, not Javi. Instead, he settles next to you, making room for himself between your body and the back of the couch, and he holds you close with your back to his chest.

You wait for your heartbeat to normalize. And you let him hold you.

“That was...way better than nice,” you manage, eventually.

Javi's chuckle vibrates through him, and then you, and he kisses your neck. “You deserved it,” he tells you - and you believe him.

#806 followers celebration #javier peña smut #narcos smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña/f!reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña/you #narcos fanfic #javi/you

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

#Alex Danvers #Sam Arias #agentreign #Ask Pile

[ldymila]

I was Made for Lovin’ You

Characters: Flip Zimmerman/Reader

Warnings: NSFW // CW, smoking/alcohol use

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36281074/chapters/90447211

Twitter account: @benlightsabe_au

You walk into a pub late at night and meet a mysterious, charismatic, stranger tempting you to be nau“Lady Marmalade” playing by Ruby Brothers in the background when you pull the heavy sticky door of the pub open, wind blowing your hair in that chilly Colorado Springs night and let it close behind you. After a quick scan, the pub is half empty at this late hour in the night you decide to sit on the bar stool. It had been a long day. Your friend had pressed you to go to a house party with you. But she left you alone to go home with another guy. Instead of going back home, you decided to come to a bar and continue drinking.  

Sitting on the stool, you point at the bartender. “Gin and tonic please” running your hand through your hair that has become sticky with the constant smoke and alcohol all night. 

When you look around, you notice two men sitting on your left side on the stools. The one next to you is tall with black hair, wearing a light brown jacket, jeans, boots, and his legs seem to go on forever. Very tall. You think. You smile and notice he’s drinking Coors beer. You start sipping gin and tonic to avoid losing your mellow vibes. The other guy seems to be talking more animated and then says his farewells and leaves the bar. 

“Daddy Cool” by Boney M. starts playing. You smile as it is one of your favorites. 

You decide to smoke a cigarette, you put one between your lips and start scrambling for the light in your small bag. Then, suddenly the man next to you lights it. “Here” says with his low gruff voice. You look up with a smirk and let him light it for you. Then, you give him the box offering him one. He smiles and takes one, lights it up, and you both huff the smoke out. He has a nice beard, large hands, and is kind of handsome? Your heart flutters. 

“Thank you” you smile. “So, How are you?” you lean in. 

“Good” he says and points at the bartender for another round of beer. “Do you want another round?” he asks, pointing at your gin. 

“Sure” you let him pay for your drink. 

“What would a girl like you do….” looks at his watch “in a pub at almost 12AM” laughs. 

“Believe it or not, I was at this horrible house party, everyone was drinking and my friend left me to go fuck a guy” you laugh sipping your second gin and tonic. He laughs while drinking his beer from the bottle. 

“Oh too bad. Where are you going after this?” he asks. You take a moment, smirking, not sure what that means. 

A moment of awkward silence between you two. 

“Home? Unless there is a better offer” against your better judgment. Your inhibitions are lowered. It’s late at night, and this man is beautiful and mysterious. You watch his movements. He has a sexy voice, charismatic and dark. 

You look at each other through the smoke and smell of alcohol. He smiles for a brief moment and your heart skips a beat. Is this normal? No, no, I am just drunk. You cross your legs, letting one exposed through your long skirt. Suddenly your clothes start feeling tighter, warm, hot, when you look at his legs, he turns towards you, opening them. You are wearing a shirt, long skirt, and a jacket with platform shoes, your hair down your shoulders. 

“Oh I am all ears for an offer” he smiles.

You are hot, very hot. You convince yourself it’s the alcohol. Looking at his plush lips wanting to kiss them so badly. 

“Bathroom?” you point with your finger. He nodds shaking his head in agreement and huffs out the last of his smoke without breaking your gaze. 

You walk to the bathroom, stumbling a little, not believing what you are doing with a complete stranger in a remote pub in this late hour at night. You close the door, put your hands at the edge of the sink and breathe. Your cheeks are flushed. Would he come? What would I say to him? Do I know his name? He doesn’t know mine. Thoughts cross your head but it’s too late because he opens the door, filling the small area with his presence, closes and locks it behind. 

Your back is to the sink, looking up at him. You can smell his breath, smoke, large jacket with fur insides, your fingers around his collar, he gets closer to you putting his hands on either side of you over the sink. He leans in, your hands around his cheeks devouring, diving into his lips, kissing, licking, and breathing. He lifts you up suddenly, you gasp, and sit on the edge of the sink, his hands pulling your skirt up, running them on your soft thighs up up up pressing, squeezing to the part where it aches the most. He kisses your neck, you whimper with need that this stranger is making you feel wet in your panties, and it hurts not to have him inside you. You kiss his neck, lick that long muscle, his callous hands grope your ass, thighs. Your hands move under his jacket, around his shoulders and then you feel a holster with a gun and suddenly stop, backing off. 

“What? You have a gun?” breaking the kiss, yours and his lips swollen red from kissing. 

“Yea, I’m a cop” he tries to continue kissing you, but you pull him away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask surprised. 

“Why does it matter?” he says. “Are you scared?” he smirks. 

“No, but it’s hot,” you smile. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Flip” he continues kissing you. You push him away, your legs wrapped around his waist holding him between your legs and you can feel his hard cock pressing through his jeans inside your thigh. “What kind of name is that?” you wonder. 

“stop asking questions” burying his face in your hair. 

“Uhh, okay I guess you’re the cop” you frown. “So, I should stop talking”

He steps back, fixes his hair. “Look, my name is Philip, but I go by Flip. What is your name?” he asks. 

“Ah, don’t do that, you’re a very arrogant man” you scoff, crossing your arms. “My name is Y/N”

“Good” he moves closer, opening your legs. “Can I fuck you now?” he bites your earlobe. The sheer volume and the forward words send shivers and heat to the warm wet place between your legs. You laugh through your kisses with him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, your ass on the sink. He yanks down your jacket, cups your breast, biting down your neck. “Uuuhh..” you moan, feeling his finger rubbing your clit. “Please Flip”you pull him closer, arms wrapped around his neck, your hands in his beautiful black hair. Your free hand runs on his hard cock bulging through his jeans, he hisses. “You want this,” he whispers, licking your neck. “Yes please”...you beg him, “say it nicer” he orders, “fuck me ” you whisper, “say it nicer I said” he orders, “fuck me please” you look in his eyes, your fingers opening his belt, the zipper, the underwear, it’s too close but too far, the urgency is there, and you wrap your small hand around his big hard cock, he hisses, pulling your underwear to the side. “Take some evil cop inside you” he says, thrusting himself full inside you, you hang onto his neck for dear life, moaning without care whether others in the pub could hear you. 

Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes

Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild

And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true

'Cause girl, you were made for me

And girl, I was made for you

Playing in the bar as a faint song in your ears. 

He pushes his jeans down enough to be able to fuck you freely, still wearing his brown jacket, you pull it off him, falls to the floor, your hands go around his shoulder holster, red flannel, and the Star of David necklace dangles from his neck. You just love all of it. Him filling you with his cock. “Yea,...you like that?” he moans, “yes, continue please…please don’t stop”, he continues thrusting hard, deep. Your legs going up, fingers twirling in your platform shoes with every thrust, feeling him, pulling on his flannel ends that some buttons open revealing his white shirt under. 

I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can give it all to you, baby

Can you give it all to me?

“Open” he orders you, “open your mouth”, he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, and you moan, feeling his tongue in match with his thrusts. “Fuck” you breathe enough to moan it out loud because you’re so close. This man is heaven sent, who is he, beautiful, strong, hard muscles moving under your fingers. He was made for loving me, for fucking me the song in your ear, you laugh when he bites your lower lip. 

He gets bigger somehow inside you and you can feel him close, burying his face in your neck, your hands in your hair, both moaning, and you can hear someone knocking at the door. “Flip” you whisper, “someone…uuh…is here…” you moan through his hard thrusts. He stops momentarily “fuck off” yells through the door, holds your face in his hands, kissing, licking at your lips, thrusting harder, and you can feel yourself close to the edge wanting to get to your release. “Harder…uhh..yes yes yes” you moan encouraging him to go faster, his hips pumping into you, his mouth muffling your moans, he feels you’re close, very close, and then you let yourself go, he stop thrusting letting you feel the wave, momentarily, “ahhh…” you moan loudly, he kisses your neck, bites your ear, before your breathing stops, in the throws of your passion, you want more, waves of pleasure running through your body, shaking when you feel his fingers rubbing your overly sensitive clit, his hips thrusting inside you, filling you, and you feel his body shuddering, he groans in your neck,  breaths waving your skin, your fingers in his hair, then he pulls out coming on the side of your thigh and some on the floor. You smile and watch him come all over, your hands straightening his disheveled hair, perspiring with sweat, he falls between your arms, still sitting on the sink, you kiss the sides of his face through his hair. 

“Fuck..”he groans coming down to earth from his pleasure. “Fuck…you’re hot” 

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you strongly on your lips. 

“Oh no” he sees the mess he made on your legs, pulls some paper towels and wipes it off you. 

“Want to come over?” he asks, smirking, nibbling his face in your hair. “again?” you laugh, “all night” he whispers and runs his tongue across your lips.

#flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman #adam driver au #blackkklansman #adam driver

[chibsytelford]

Let’s Go Home Together

** GIF CREDIT TO CREATOR **

A/N - I have had this song on repeat for days now and kept getting Angel Reyes vibes. I hope you enjoy :)

You can join my groupchat / taglist HERE

I'd never have given you a second look

But I like the way you don't give a damn

You seem like someone I could pick a fight with, and dance all night with

Maybe you'll like me the way I am

As you sat in the packed bar you couldn’t take your eyes off one man. He sat with his arm around the chair next to him, occasionally taking sips of his beer and laughing at things the men around him were saying. You could tell he was confident just by looking at him. He was getting enough female attention to last him a lifetime but he didn’t seem fazed. That intrigued you because he also looked like the type of guy who wouldn’t turn anyone down.

As he got up to get another round of beers you studied him further. He was tall, with dark hair and tattoos that looked like they covered his whole body. His ringed fingers were long and slender and you marveled at him carrying at least 8 bottles back to the table without batting an eyelid. The way he carried himself had you awestruck and you just wanted to know him.

He must have finally felt your eyes on him because he looked straight at you and threw you a smirk. He lifted the beer bottle and held it out in a ‘cheers’ motion before having a drink. The gesture caught you off guard and you ducked out of his view and turned back towards your friends embarrassed that you had been caught checking him out.

You tried to focus on the conversation your friends were having but you had a feeling that someone was watching you this time. You lifted your hand and rubbed the back of your neck where some goose bumps had started to form, a sign that someone was looking your way. You didn’t dare turn around. You hoped it was the same man you’d been watching most of the night, but now that the tables were turned you were less confident and feeling a bit overwhelmed.

You were probably the most under dressed person in the bar. You had decided on a simple pair of jeans, a band t-shirt and a pair of trainers, so to be noticed was a surprise.

“Girl, that guy hasn’t stopped looking at you for the past ten minutes” one of your friends pointed out.

You inwardly groaned. Now they had noticed they would do everything in their power to make you go and talk to him. “Please don’t turn aro-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as your friends who had their backs to him whipped their heads around and looked directly at the group of men a couple of tables behind. You kept your head facing forwards, not daring another look.

The girls turned back around giggling, already claiming their target for tonight. “We better leave lover boy over there for Y/N”.

All of a sudden your friends went silent. You felt a tap on your shoulder and you slowly turned yourself around and looked up into the eyes of the man you’d been eyeing up all night. “Angel” he smirked and held out his ringed hand.

“Y/N” you barely managed to get out. “I uh-“

“You’ve been eyeing me up all night, figured I better introduce myself” he interrupted you. Your friends once again giggled and you forced a laugh out too.

“You saw that?” you asked all of a sudden feeling very flustered.

“Yep, I mean you weren’t sly” Angel laughed. “Can I get you a drink?”

You accepted his offer and Angel came back with a beer for him and a vodka and coke for yourself. He grabbed a chair from another table, pulling it up beside yours and sitting himself down. He resumed his previous position and placed his arm around the back of your chair. Your friends all excused themselves, something about needing to freshen up at the bathroom and you could’ve killed them all in that moment.

You picked up the drink and downed it in one go. That was your third of the night and you were not a massive drinker so it hit you quicker than it would other people. You needed some liquid courage as it didn’t look like Angel was going anywhere anytime soon.

Even though you've got bad tattoos and smell like booze

I'm into you

Even though you've got an attitude

Baby, I'm in love

I've said a little too much

I'm a little bit drunk

Feels like I know you so well

You could be everything that I've been missing

I'm coming out of my shell

And I never do that

How did you do that?

It's like I've known you my whole life

So what we'rе a little drunk

Let's go home together

Hours later and you and Angel were still sitting at the table, deep in conversation. He was definitely more than just tattoos, sarcasm, cockiness and a handsome face. You learned that he was very passionate about his club. He didn’t go into detail but he had answered your questions about his kutte and gave you a quick rundown on what they did. He told you about his brother and his mother and you watched in awe at the way his face lit up when he spoke about her. You felt comfortable around him, something that you never expected to happen. At some point you had turned around to face him and your legs were in between his. His hand was supporting your back and every so often he moved his fingers across it.

You kept expecting him to get bored, to stand up and walk away but not once did he look for a way out of talking to you, not once did he look back at the group of men he was here with. He was enjoying every minute spent with you, just like you were with him. You found yourself opening up to him too. You told him about your family, and that your mother had chosen a life of drink instead of a life with you. You had never admitted that to anyone, but for some reason you found yourself telling Angel. He had continuously rubbed your back at that point, showing you that he was listening, silently urging you to go on, to get it all out. You felt a small sense of relief when you had finished, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Angel then told you about his pops, that he felt like his father didn’t love him as much as his brother, that he felt his father blamed him for his mother’s death. You could tell it was a sore subject, and you showed him you were here for him and listening by picking up his free hand and holding it in your own. To anyone walking past, you looked like a couple who had been together for years, not 2 people who had only met a few hours ago.

You were feeling fully comfortable, and hadn’t touched a drink for a while. You were not fully sober, but you weren’t drunk either. You had noticed that Angel hadn’t been to the bar in a while and secretly you were glad. Every time he got up you immediately missed his warmth, missed his hand on your back, his legs pressed against yours, his laugh, his smile. Part of you was scared. Could you really yearn for someone that quickly? Could you really feel this way about someone who you hadn’t even known yesterday?

“I really like you Y/N” Angel whispered, placing his hand on the side of your face and cupping it gently.  “Can I kiss you?”

You were surprised that he had asked you. You nodded almost immediately and he wasted no time in bringing his lips to yours. You gave him a few pecks and pulled away leaning your forehead on his. You were both smiling like idiots and you shook your head laughing. “I didn’t expect this tonight” you said.

“I don’t want this night to end. I want to take you home, but not for that” he quickly added when he saw you raise your eyebrows. “I want to wake up next to you in the morning, I want to make you breakfast, I want to know more about you”.

You were actually thinking the same thing, but to hear him admit it first made your tummy do flips. It was funny how life put you in situations that could change your life forever. I suppose you could call it fate. You had a good feeling about Angel.

“Let’s go then”.

@rebelwrites @mrsmarvelous1995 @blessedboo @anangelwhodidntfall @withmyteeth @redpoodlern @calif0rnia-lovers @encounterthepast @pancakeisreading @phoenixhalliwell @lexondeck @kid-from-new-zealand @est1887 @louisianalady @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @gemini0410 @queenbeered @destynelseclipsa @i-love-scott-mccall @sheeshgivemeabreak @trulysuccubus @scuzmunkie @jadesamhart @talicat713 @meteora-fc @angelreyesisdaddy04

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes #mayans mc