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hannieehaee · 5 months

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18+ / mdi

content: clueless!seokmin, established relationship, afab reader, he's a lil airheaded but thats fine bc he's cute, reader is a lil pushy, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1690

a/n: tysm to the person who requested <33 i lovelovelove this concept so much its so fitting for seokmin

masterlist

you loved seokmin, you really did. but there was only so much you could take before you went crazy.

he was the perfect boyfriend, truly! he fulfilled every boyfriend duty to an exemplary extent, leaving no part of you dissatisfied. except, well, for one.

you'd only started dating recently. it had been one, no, two months - if you count the talking stage, that is - since seokmin had grown the balls to ask for your number, claiming he had fallen head over heels for you the moment your mutual friend jeonghan had introduced you at a gathering a few months back. at first it had been simple back and forth flirting through text (and occasionally face to face, whenever you'd both had enough drinks to look into each other's eyes without blushing). then it turned into an official proposition from seokmin, who showed up with flowers one day and sheepishly asked if you'd consider being official with him. you, not being an idiot, jumped into his arms with an enthusiastic yes. and that's how you ended up here, two months into the perfect relationship.

and also two months into a sexless relationship. yes, sex was not the most important part of a relationship. you could accept it if seokmin never put his hands on you in that way, loving and respecting him no matter what. except he constantly did. he was an overly excited man, who would consistently touch and caress you (always innocently, in seokmin fashion) in order to express his love. it was never explicitly sexual, but to you it felt borderline. plus, you knew for a fact that the feeling was mutual. you knew that seokmin wanted you in the way you did him. at least going off one of the drunken conversations you had with him at some random gathering during your talking stage. he had made clear the way he saw you (in words you were too flustered to repeat). except that was the last mention of it. he'd never mentioned his sexual desires to you since then. you knew seokmin was a very proper and respectful man, that he would never push you into an uncomfortable position, but you really wished he would just take a damn hint.

you'd tried everything by now, except you were subtle about it, not wanting to come off as desperate. you'd tried extending the quick pecks he gave you every time he said goodbye, but were always met with a sheepish chuckle as he pulled away and gave you a cheeky wink before you could even try to stick your tongue in his mouth. you'd run your hands up and down his chest any time he held you in his arms, but would be promptly stopped as soon as he started tickling you. you'd press your ass up against him as he held you in your sleep, but you'd be met with big arms flipping you over to face him, cocooning you in his embrace.

he'd never outwardly reject you, but he'd absolutely misinterpret your advancements for innocent requests for his affections. you weren't sure if the man was trying to send you a message, or if maybe he was just an idiot when it came to this. you also weren't sure how many more nights you'd be able to walk into your room after your nightly routine to find a very delicious-looking seokmin, arms bare as he laid in your bed waiting to hold you in his arms.

the answer was zero. you weren't sure exactly what had broken the camel's back for you. but tonight you had just gone insane with desire for him. you'd walked into the room, spotting seokmin as he laid on your bed, sleeveless shirt showing off his muscles as he laid one of them behind his head while the other held onto his phone. the position gave you a perfect view of his flexed muscles. you were dizzy just at the sight. it was no surprise to you when your body took control over you, leading you to his side of the bed as you snatched his phone and threw it to the side before straddling him, attacking him with a heavy kiss. this was the first time you'd been so forward, but there was only so much a girl could take.

seokmin's reaction was what you'd expect from any man with a pretty girl sitting atop his lap. he kissed you back just as eagerly, allowing you to let your tongue play with his. you made out for a bit before you allowed your hips to begin sensually canting against his. much to your surprise, his arms wrapped around you, holding onto your ass as he guided your thrusts.

his breathy moans against your mouth were driving you mad. you could tell he had felt just as deprived as you. he must've been trying to be a gentleman all this time, not wanting to pursue you sexually unless you were 100% explicit about you wanting him in the same way. for some reason this made you want to jump his bones even more. thinking about a pent up seokmin holding back from letting you ride him into oblivion due to his respectful demeanor made you wanna sit on his cock until he cried.

you finally pulled away from him, heavy breath as you looked down at him, "seokmin."

"what's wrong?', his breath was just as heavy as yours, "do-do you not want to, baby? it's okay, we don't have to. would never wanna for-"

"seokmin. if you don't let me sit on your dick, i swear to god."

he looked up at you with wide eyes, mouth still open from having been interrupted mid speech, "w-what?"

"minnie, i've been wanting you to fuck me since the day you asked me for my number. you've been dodging me all this time and it's been making me go insane. i want you so fucking bad."

"me?! i-i wanted you too! just .. didn't wanna push you into anything. wasn't sure you wanted to do anything. it's only been one month ..."

"two months! i've been wanting to jump you since day one, minnie."

"o-oh."

"can i fuck you now, baby?"

"yes. fuck. please."

and that was all confirmation you needed to throw off your shorts and shirt, giving seokmin perfect view of your nude body. his reaction had your ego reaching brand new levels of high as he shyly reached out his arms to your chest, audibly moaning at your pretty silhouette. you helped him the rest of the way by placing his palms around your tits and lowering yourself to explore his mouth with your tongue once again.

you only made out for a minute or so, growing too frustrated with desire to have his massive length inside you. you made quick work of his tank top, throwing it aside as if it were your biggest enemy. but the real enemy had been his sweats, which were keeping you from the dick you'd daydreamed about every night for months on end. you must've looked insane, reaching superhuman speed to remove his pants and boxers all at once, leaving a very naked seokmin before you, with his cock taking the role of main character as it stood in all its might before you.

you couldn't help but salivate over it. it was so tall and thick, just as you'd imagined. you had to hold yourself back from begging seokmin to let you gag on it, not wanting to scare him off. you didn't want him to think you were some kind of sex maniac, but the sight of such a pretty cock without a mouth to envelop it made you feel violent inside. but these thoughts could be left for another day. right now all you wanted was for him to bruise your cervix.

"baby ... please stop staring like that, you're making me self-conscious," said the owner of the delicious length standing before you.

"self-concious?? minnie, you're hung as shit! jesus, can't wait to sit on you baby. can i? wanna feel you so bad."

"goddamnit. don't say stuff like that .. i've been waiting so long, you're gonna make me cum."

god, the thought of his cum filling you up was yet another thought that had you humming in satisfaction. but you needed to put the distractions aside. you could not go another minute without molding to his size.

after rubbing his dick a bit as if to ensure exactly what was going to be impaling you in a few minutes, you finally sank down on him, sighing out in pleasure as you threw your head back.

so worth the wait.

"b-baby! fuck. you feel so ... so fucking good."

you sped up immediately upon him entering you, already so pent up you knew your orgasm would find you earlier than it usually did.

"can't believe you deprived me of this for two months, minnie. could've been keeping you warm all this time."

"no ... didn't wa-wanna push you. wanted you to want me first ..."

"minnie ... i've always wanted you. you're so ... you're perfect," your pace had now slowed down, allowing you to angle yourself in a way that had your toes curling, mouth hung open as your words disappeared in your throat.

"gonna cum if you keep saying those things, pretty."

"yeah? gonna cum for me, minnie? want you to fill me up so bad. will you do that?", you were taunting him, fully aware your end was just around the corner. you knew nothing would compare to the feeling of the pretty man filling you up, so you squeezed your walls around him, making him groan out at the feeling.

his hands tightened on your skin, maniacally trying to guide your movements as he finally climaxed, leading you to your own climax almost immediately after. you both shivered against each other, feeling the intensity of your orgasms cruise through you.

it took you a few seconds to regain full consciousness. seokmin had been the one to speak up first after the fact, making you giggle at his breathless statement.

"next time, please just jump me."

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fqiryspit · 1 year

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FOOTBALL PLAYER EREN HEADCANONS

eren x fem!reader

cw: eren is head over heels for you, crazy fangirls, death threats, eren fucking you, you sucking him, etc etc

you've been in a relationship with eren before his hair was that long and when he stumbled nervously over everything.

he still looks back and cringes, wondering why you wanted to date him

you two have been lifelong friends and once you started your relationship things really were perfect.

eren's football career really took off in college, and he got a lot more attention from the girls on campus rather than old men.

soon he and his team were absolutely famous and you were so excited for him -and incredibly grateful your relationship was swiped under the rug during that time. he had millions of fan girls posting fics and edits of him daily, it was insane.

you asked him to not speak on your relationship -because he got those questions a lot so he just responds with a simple "I'm happy" when they get asked

he wants to -so badly- show you off. to laugh at all his annoying fan girls and bring you out, but, he respects your decision.

after his games, he is absolutely wrecked. he flops down onto the bed and you climb on top of him and start massaging his scalp and he just moans into the sheets

"did you have fun?"

"how was I supposed to have fun when you weren't there?" he says, needy as ever

"errreeen I'm not gonna be able to go that far for every game" you huff

and this man loves to spoil you. designer bags out of the blue, wait, did you just eye that coat? no worries, he's just gonna purchase that really quickly.

eren truly truly loves you, he knows he is gonna marry you, it's just a fact.

he melts when he is with you, always needing to hold you in some way and just have you near.

he fanaticizes about your wedding and babies with you late at night or when he's balls deep in you

"fuck, can't wait to fill you up with my babies, gonna make you a mommy"

and by the way, after a game. a win or a loss, he's fucking you.

if he won, he's letting his victory in your pussy, ramming into you over and over while your legs bend in abnormal positions every two seconds while he babbles about how he couldn't get his mind off you the whole time

if he lost...oh man. he's taking all that anger out on you. it goes on for hours until he is finally drained and calm while you lay there full of his cum.

before a conference, you give him a "good luck suck" because he hates going to them, and this makes him feel a lot better <3

his fans are crazy, and once they caught wind of your relationship, all hell broke loose.

a photo came to light of eren simply hugging you. you know how careful he is with that stuff so you hid it from him, knowing he rarely goes on social media it should be a breeze, right?

you had your knees up to your chest and a twisted brow on, reading through the death threats and horrible comments made about your appearance.

you're an idiot for not privating your account in time, they found you and are coming in full swing.

you felt your stomach sink, you shouldn't let them get to you, but they're pointing out insecurities you've been trying to bury

"you okay?"

you look up to see eren, in the doorway with a concerned look all over his face. you turn off your phone and put a smile on

"yeah, just stupid stuff" you chuckle uncomfortably. he walks over and climbs onto the bed

"what happened?" "nothing, eren"

he looked at you for a couple more seconds, giving you the option to tell him what was going on. then his eyes slowly traveled to your phone you tossed across the bed. you reached for it franticly but he got it in time and as you yelled out his name he unlocked it with his face

everything on his face just dropped in an instant, he read through message after message about people wishing you dead, saying not-so-nice things about your looks, and more.

he asked when this started while he kept staring into the phone, then asked why you didn't tell him.

"I knew it would worry you, so I just-" "you need to tell me these things" he reached over to grab his phone as he started typing, you looked over to see him making a twitter post and you freaked

"don't say anything about it!" you plead, but it was too late, he made a simple post yelling at his 'fans' and then turned his phone off and held you

"please don't worry about those stupid messages"

in all, footballplayer!eren is the man of your dreams, and he hopes you haven't found the ring box in his sock drawer yet. <3

an: love him sm <3

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chronicbeans · 3 months

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Yandere Platonic Alastor x Victim Reader

You got killed by him when you both were alive, because you accidentally ended up witnessing him burying a body. Unknowingly, because neither of you recognized each other in Hell, you both became friends... Now the memories are returning.

TW: Death, Murder, Cannibalism (again, this is Alastor), Fear and Anxiety, Invasion of Privacy/Personal Space, Stalking, Manipulation, Yandere Behavior (Upped to more than usual, for Alastor)

• You remember how you died relatively well. Back in the 1920s, you decided to go on a nighttime walk in the woods... well, more like heavily wooded swamps of New Orleans, only to stumble across a man burying a body in the ground. You panicked, which alerted him, and you got shot. That's the gist of it. You don't know who did it, you don't know why he killed that person he was burying, but you have always vowed revenge on the person who did it.

• However, you decided to try to redeem yourself, still. You entered the Hazbin Hotel, being led in by an excited Charlie, only to then be met with Alastor. You recognized his voice as one you heard on a radio show, when you were alive... and when you asked, he confirmed your suspicions that it was him who was the host! You were surprised, and although you never met him in life, you were comforted by at least having someone from your time period here.

• And as such, you mostly stuck by him. Although you wouldn't call him a friend. It was more like he was a familiar presence for you. Sure, he was the Radio Demon, but he hadn't shown any hostility towards you. So, in your opinion, there was no need for concern or fear. He never seems to mind, either. The most he does is stare at you or ask why you spend so much time with him, and you always be truthful.

• In truth, although he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys your company. Alastor views you as a sort of lost soul who needs guidance... and by that, it means he wants to take your soul. You seem a bit naive to his true nature, so you'd be relatively easy to trick, yeah? You may not be strong or a good tool to use, but keeping you on a leash would be nice, in his opinion. It's not everyday he finds someone from not only his time period, but his area! You're like a little rare gem, who brings him nostalgia.

• He's proven wrong, however, as you deny his offer for a deal. So, he was proven wrong. You're smart enough to deny his offer for a deal... Which, although he is irritated, he has to applaud you for. You're smart, and he loves smart people! It beats the idiotic brawn he often interprets many of the inhabitants of Hell to be run by, which he despises. So, although he never gets to own your lovely soul, he earns more respect for you as a person rather than just a nostalgic memory from the past. Seeing people less as people, such as viewing them as tools or objects for his own enjoyment, is a problem he has... One that you've gotten past due to being a bit more intelligent than some of the other sinners, and gained his respect as a person.

• The more time you spend together, the more you two become friends... Sure, it takes a long time, but it eventually happens. You find him to have his own sort of charm underneath the eerie exterior, and he sees you as someone at the hotel who really understands him and where he comes from. Sure, Mimzy is also someone who he sees similarly since they were friends in life, but she is rarely at the Hazbin Hotel, if ever. You're a guest of the establishment, though, so he can hang around with you more often.

• Though... you are beginning to have... memories coming back. Alastor sounds a bit like the man who killed you, so you have been thinking about your killer. It's been becoming distressing, because you are worried about meeting him in Hell. Sure, you want revenge, but you are not a very strong demon. There's about a 50/50 chance he might be stronger than you. It's gotten to the point where you decide to confide in Charlie about it. She decides that, the next day, she'd have everyone do art therapy with the task of drawing their greatest stressor. Of course, with your permission, of course...

• So, you alongside the other residents start the next day making art while eating breakfast. You all are not exactly sure who is going to be participating in the sharing process Charlie wants to try out, but you know you sure as Hell won't. You only plan to share it with Charlie... and maybe Alastor. You're not sure, yet.

• You doodle what you remember your killer looking like, the body he was burying, alongside the area you died in. Then, once you're done, you bring it over to Charlie. She seems a little disheartened, as if upset that the situation still impacts you to this day, but supportive. Then, she suggests that you could show it to Alastor. Maybe he will recognize him? And, if anybody could protect you if you do meet your killer in Hell, it'd be him. To be honest, you didn't even think of the fact that Alastor might recognize him!

• Now excitedly, you go to find Alastor. You notice that he also seems to be participating in the workshop. It is probably the first time you've seen him participate in one, but you always suspected he'd join in on one that involves drawing, since he had mentioned enjoying doodling things from time to time. You don't peek at it, considering the challenge is to draw what stresses you, but from the brief glimpse you get you see a bunch of chains.

• "Alastor! Hi! Charlie recommended I show you my drawing, in case you can help me... would you be willing to take a look?" He looks over to you, grinning widely. His first few thoughts are about how he can use whatever problem you have to try, once again, to sucker a deal from you. So, he nods his head rather quickly. "Of course, dear! Anything for a friend."

• You show him your picture, explaining that it's the man who killed you... only for his face to suddenly go pale. He's grinning, like always, but you can tell something is wrong. "Alastor? You okay?" For a few moments, he's quiet, before he snaps out of it. "Ah, yes, dear! I'm fine! The man is um... familiar to me. I just need to try to remember who he is... I'll let you know if I remember."

• He may sound calm, but inside, he's panicking. It's him. It's him. He killed you. He remembers who you were, too, considering the scenery. That, and you decided to keep your name. You were the one victim he didn't plan to kill. The only one that he felt a little remorse for, since you didn't fit the criteria of his usual victims. He killed based off of his weird morals, so killing someone who he usually wouldn't have hit him a bit. So much so, even in Hell, his mind wandered to you from time to time... Now, you're here, and you don't recognize him.

• By a little remorse, he means much more than he'd like to admit. He may be the cruel, sadistic Radio Demon, but back when he was human he still had a bit more care for others. That, and in Hell, it's a lot easier to find people who fit his murderous criteria he had when he was alive. So, although he doesn't go by that code as much in Hell, he still believes you didn't deserve it. You just were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he couldn't let a witness live.

• Meanwhile, you're completely oblivious to his internal panic. All you're noticing is that, as the days go by, he's keeping a closer and closer eye on you. While you would usually go and seek him out, now, you don't need to! It's his turn to do the seeking! Though, it is odd how he seems to know where you are all the time... That, and he's been knocking on your door the second after you wake up, almost like he's some sort of psychic, or something!

• Now, while Alastor is usually more obsessive and possessive when it comes to relationships, to the point where one may say he's a yandere by default... When Alastor actually is a yandere? You're screwed. Those behaviors are upped to the max. There's no escaping him.

• He's spying on you, yes. He normally would. Now, though, it's almost constantly. From your room, to the store, to the park, to anywhere else you go. He's a lot more obvious about it, too. He'd normally let you have other friends, but in this case, you're not allowed. Well, you are, but he will actively try to get you to not trust them. What if they're your killer? The only exception would be the others at the Hazbin Hotel, since he wants you to stay there. If you're too scared, you might leave, and it'd make it harder to find you to stalk you.

• He's also going to try to make deals with you much more often, now. Little ones at first, though, that don't involve your soul. If he gets you this, you have to get him that. If he does this, you need to do that. Small things, to slowly build you up to the big deal he plans to have you agree to. Like a frog in boiling water. You throw it into hot water it'll jump out, but if you slowly turn up the heat, it'll stay put until the end. You probably don't even notice the deals increasing in intensity.

• And so, when he approaches you with a deal one day, you aren't surprised. However, he knows this one is too good to pass up! Or, at least, it sounds too good until you agree. "Dear, I've figured out who your killer is! Though, I want to make a deal. I'll tell you who it is and make sure you're safe, and in return, you give me your soul. Now, before you disagree, think about it. If I have your soul, I can protect you much easier, as I'll be more connected to you. That, and they can't steal it from you and hurt you more than if they did have it. So, is it a deal?" He's made his points... and you're now so used to intense deals, that you agree to it, despite your unease. Giving up your soul is a big thing, but he's your friend, hasn't hurt you, and from what it sounds like... he wouldn't hurt you once he has your soul. It's to protect you, yeah?

• Once you do, shaking his hand to seal the deal, he immediately lets you in on his secret. His grip moves from your hand to your wrist, his grin wide as he speaks calmly. "Do not panic, dear. I did it. I killed you, because you saw something you shouldn't have." And with that, all his true colors are revealed. He admits to everything, from the stalking, to the obsessions, and to his true reason for wanting your soul: to keep you close.

• You, for one, are terrified. Your worst fear is realized. Your killer is stronger than you - a literal overlord- and now owns your soul. Your leash is much tighter and shorter than Husk's, too. You're constantly being dragged around by him. He shows you off, as if you are some sort of trophy. He probably brings you everywhere he goes, even to Cannibal Town and meetings, so you aren't out of his sight.

• If you try to get away from him, he will literally drag you back. Then, he's going to be holding onto your shoulder tightly for the next few hours. It's his passive aggressive way of saying "I'm not afraid to hurt you", without actually saying anything... As if you getting dragged by a chain wrapped around your throat wasn't enough to prove it.

• You are, in your own way, treated a bit better than Husk. That is, as long as you actually go along with his insanity. If you act good, he'll treat you to food- no, not the raw meat and demon flesh he eats. Foods that you actually like. He'll make sure you have the best room in the hotel. He'll even, begrudgingly, let you have a television. If you aren't so nice, though, he'll basically take away everything. The food you eat will be what he eats, you're probably going to be in his room so he can keep an eye on you, and there will be no technology allowed other than radio and things that came before it. The most you'll get is to be allowed to sleep in his bed, while he sleeps on one of the chairs in his room (that is, if he doesn't stay up all night to watch you).

• Charlie probably isn't aware of any of this. The most she might notice is that you two are hanging out more often, and that Alastor was your killer. However, she truly believes he can be redeemed, especially since your murder wasn't something he wanted. So, she won't question it, and believes a lot of the things Alastor says to explain your odd behavior. "They're a bit nervous, still, but we're working it all out." "They've been staying in my room because the prefer it there." "They got rid of their phone because they realized they were getting a bit addicted to social media." Whenever you try to say anything, though, you feel a slight tug on your chain, which keeps you quiet about it. Stupid deal...

• You aren't going anywhere. He's doing all of this with the goal of making it all up for you, in his own twisted way. Especially since he's now learned that you are the exact opposite of the type of person he would kill. If you act good, you'll see! He'll give you mostly everything you want. He'll shower you in apologies for your death, give you gifts, and maybe let you have some alone time... He just gets a little more than frustrated when you try to leave... Please, he's been waiting for this opportunity for years, so just let him apologize for killing you... Even if his apology lasts for all of eternity.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #platonic yandere #platonic headcanons #platonic

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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 2)

Lucifer/Reader

Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))

Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani

‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’

Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors.

Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with.

These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company.

And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard.

You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water.

“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”

Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be.

If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net…

Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire.

Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold.

With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.

There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.

——

“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”

“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you.

The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance.

It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering.

“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.”

“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.

There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight.

He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Quack!’

“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs.

Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly.

You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly.

The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.”

“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen.

You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips.

“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.”

Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke.

“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth.

The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy.

It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck.

‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’

“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you.

You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.”

Mrs. Farrow beamed.

“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”

“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned.

He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.”

Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”

“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”

Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more.

The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.

The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.

“Baphomet.”

You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again.

“O-oh, the statue is…?”

Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.”

The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it.

“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.”

“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.”

The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”

You turned to Warren again.

“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.”

Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.”

“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.”

“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious.

The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.”

Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.”

Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.”

“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”

“Dinner time!”

Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself.

Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”

——

All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine.

The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least.

As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself.

“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.”

“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.”

Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.”

‘Quack quack’

Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.

“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!”

The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned.

She had a small wicker basket in her arms.

“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.”

As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier.

“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence.

“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!”

The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.

“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”

“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.”

There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat.

“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!”

“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!”

“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room.

“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.”

A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”

“The cost must’ve —”

“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently.

You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket.

Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you.

So funny.

… You felt funny.

Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there.

“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…”

Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat.

The basket was gone.

Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”

Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat.

“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.”

Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater.

Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright.

The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you.

“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”

“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock.

“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.

Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass.

Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell.

“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.”

“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.”

“Oh no, thank you.”

——

When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right.

It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it.

‘Well that’s good.’

The heavy feeling in your arms was still present.

‘That’s not so good.’

You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly.

Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall.

You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’

The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body.

That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you.

Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was…

Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him.

“Hello there!”

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

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Hii, i know megumi is such a sweetheart😭🥺 but what about him being a perv🙏👉👈 (I loved the last one u made)

18+ smut / 21+ bf megumi <3 masturbation ! turned out kiind of... domestic ?

Yeah, he's a kind and gentle man who cares deeply about the one he loves. He shows you every day, through little acts, like making the bed, surprising you with dinner, or taking you on a cute date at the weekend. He's polite to everyone, but with you he's always extra sweet, and so damn respectful- especially in the way he treats your body. He knows what you like. He knows your kinky side, just as much as you know his. He knows you love him for being his usual reserved self- when he waits for you to come get what you want. And he knows you love his needy side- when he gives you that shy smile and just buries his head into your neck and demands that you touch him.

So, if he's such a sweet and perfect boyfriend, the question must be asked, why is he on the bed with his shirt pulled up, jerking his cock to pictures of you?

You just left him so flustered when you were on your way out shopping with your girlfriends. You came downstairs, prancing to the door in what he can only describe as... something strappy... and thin. He wasn't really focused on the colour or design but the material was just so skimpy he could see the outline of your pretty body and you watched him come to terms with the fact that you were leaving.

He held onto your hand, unable to express that he wanted you to stay, and just pressed a kiss to your cheek and watched you walk out with your friends.

"Uh- I guess I'll see you later?"

But you're already stepping over to the car, where he watches you lower yourself in slow motion, where he admires the curve of your ass.

Yeah, that's it. He's admiring you.

It's not perverted?

It's just... a man, admiring his girlfriend. And he knows there's nothing wrong with that.

It's okay that he's moaning to the picture you took last week, of you two, in the glow of a sunset in the city. He just tries his best to ignore his boring face, resenting the fact that he isn't smiling even though he was very happy, and focusing on that pretty shimmer to your skin. The elated look in your eyes. Your smile.

It's not wrong that he's edging himself, trying to find the perfect picture of you to cum to. There are just too many.

Fuck- this one is hot. You were getting dressed up to go out for a fancy meal together and had him take photos of you. The dress is figure hugging in all the right places and displays your cleavage so perfectly- if he just strokes himself a few more times he's going to-

"Oh-"

He lets out a little surprised noise when he sees a notification from none other than you. Even just seeing your name on the screen makes his heart jump out of his chest. But when he taps on the message-

13:15 [name] Hey baby! I'm trying on some clothes, I wondered if you could help me choose?

-he lets out a little groan.

He's embarrassed that he's already got his dick in his hand, about ready to spill, when you're sending him such a cute message. And you look so happy and pretty it's making him feel guilty, however much he's trying to justify it to himself.

"Oh, baby," he sighs out loud and scans his dark eyes over the image of your body. You're wearing a... nightie? He thinks? Or would you want to wear it outside? He's not sure. But it's dusty pink with a little bow at the top and barely contains your boobs. And oh god, he lets off a groan, feeling his dick swell when his eyes catch your nipples. They're just poking through the thin, satin material and he'd give anything to bury his face between your tits and suck harshly at the raised buds to hear you whimper and moan. He can just imagine the way you'd say his name.

He swipes to the next picture.

"Mm-" fuck, it's just a pair of jeans, you idiot.

But he can see your thong and the way you're posing in the mirror is doing nothing to stop him gripping and tugging himself a little faster.

And in the next picture he gets the surprise of his life because your clothes have all gone and you're standing there in nothing but the prettiest, dark blue lingerie and he busts immediately.

He keeps his hand wrapped around his dick and pumps himself right to the base, hammering the cum out all over his abs.

He looks over his body, as the mess he's made, and finally lets go of his spent cock, sighing and dropping his phone on the bed. He'll reply to you later. If he looks at those pictures again right now he'll have to go for another round.

Little does he know, you're buying a couple of lingerie sets today to surprise him for his birthday (because you couldn't think of a better present than yourself). And you intend to come home and show them all off this weekend.

megumi | m.list

i'm sorry that your name is just [name] in megumi's phone i imagine that it's an ongoing battle. like you will change it to something cute but he loves your name so much that he will change it right back.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi <3 #megumi smut #megumi drabble #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro imagine

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ahhhwomen · 2 months

Text

Nothing really matters.

Vampire Empire

Part 3

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @thinking1bee

The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natasha’s business meetings a few weeks later.

Back in Carol’s possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.

After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natasha’s respective staff members had become background noise.

There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.

To Natasha’s surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didn’t even glance at her once during the introduction to today’s meeting.

Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.

She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.

She could not say the same for herself, however.

Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.

It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.

Carol changes you.

Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.

Natasha’s chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she can’t seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.

Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.

You are still covered in bruises.

They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But it’s clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.

Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.

Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadn’t been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasn’t very light-handed.

She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blonde’s rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.

Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.

She can’t figure it out.

She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.

Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.

You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.

The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but it’s nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.

That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.

There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you don’t mind.

Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.

Until one of them jumps the fence.

You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but she’s big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you don’t know what to do with.

She smells like the flowers around you, maybe that’s why you don’t flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.

She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.

The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesn’t bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isn’t directed at you, and then the other dog’s calm.

Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesn’t matter.

A dog is a dog.

The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t help either.

She just watches as Master drags you away. You don’t know why you thought she would do anything else.

Master is right.

Master is always right.

No one will help.

You don’t deserve it.

When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she can’t be bothered to stay here too long.

Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.

“Carol. Wait a moment.”

Please don’t.

Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.

“There is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.”

Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, “Something about an unsettled bank record?” The redhead squints in the blonde’s direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEO’s face.

Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.

The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.

A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. “Stay here.” Her voice leaves no room for arguing, it’s a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldn’t talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.

Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.

There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.

“Are you in pain?” Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.

Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.

Of course, it hurts.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You smell different.” Carol scrutinizes you from afar.

If it weren’t for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.

The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.

It’s easier than you thought.

Maybe it’s from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clan’s leader has in hers.

You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.

Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.

It’s been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.

You don’t know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.

The other days had passed in a blur.

It’s like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.

Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didn’t even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didn’t blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.

She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didn’t affect you.

You ruined her little power trip of the day.

She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. “Look at me when I am talking to you!” Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.

You don’t care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.

Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.

The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasn’t so scary anymore.

*slap*

You wonder what would happen if she went all the way…

*slap*

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they killed you.

*slap*

“LOOK AT ME!” Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.

*slap*

“CAN’T YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?”

*slap*

“Look at me?” Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know her…

*slap*

Your head bounces against the pavement.

*slap*

Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.

She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.

From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.

If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.

Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.

Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.

She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.

Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?

She wanted to talk to you.

Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.

Something was definitely wrong.

However, she didn’t expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.

You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natasha’s presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.

It’s not until you can hear Carol’s heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.

Carol nods in Natasha’s direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.

If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.

Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.

Convincing herself it’s for the better. Again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat

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darlingbabyboo · 9 months

Text

"Baby, you're my whore!"

♡ Tokyo Revengers characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Ken Ryuguji (Draken)

It has been said before and I will be one of the people to say it again

Definition of dress slutty: I can fight

Growing up in a brothel (with women that made sure that he was drinking his respect women juice everyday) he lets you dress however you please

Your skirt might be too short for his comfort, but as long as you feel comfortable and satiated, he's gonna bite his tongue

Who is he, to mess with what the love of his life wants?

On your stupidity

He's been hanging out with dumbasses all his life, if his baby happens to be a bit of a dumb fuck, he won't say a thing

He also thinks that you're absolutely adorable when you look at him with question in your eyes and say the most idiotic things known to man

A bit exasperating

But moreso adorable

"Kenny." He hums to show you that he's listening and continues fixing up his motorcycle. "What's the matter angel?"

"Why doesn't hair grow at the side of your head." He blinks and looks back at you, genuine wonder in your eyes. He sighs, and presses his forehead against the cool of his bike.

"Kenny, are you okay!?" He feels your arms wrap around his shoulders and your weight begin to press against him. You're ridiculous, but he loves you so much it hurts. He couldn't imagine a life without you around.

"'s nothing angel, don't worry your pretty head about it."

Takemichi Hanagaki (Takemitchy)

He's weak to you okay, he loves your short skirts that barely cover up your panties and your tight shirts that show off your lace bra's (if you even wear one some days)

You can say the dumbest shit or do the stupidest things and he'll be nodding along like a little puppy dog

Is it so wrong to be completely in love with your girlfriend? He worships you like a god and how dare anyone have the nerve to blame him?

You see the world in a way that he could never imagine, and you open his eyes to a world of possibilities

He just believes that he's lucky that you two are even together, you're beautiful and kind and even if there's not a lot going on in your head, you're the best girl that he's ever known

He just wants to be with you forever

You jump into his open arms, your arms wrapping around his neck and his automatically enclose around your waist. "Sweetie, I got a 40% on my test?" You say, cheerfully.

"W-what? I'm sorry. I know you studied hard for that."

"What?" You crock your head to the side and look at him with confusion in your eyes, "no, all I need is another 40% and then I'll be at an 80% average!"

Takemichi opens his mouth to say something, mainly, what in the world would make you think that, and how the hell do you think averages work? Instead, he shakes his head and gives a soft smile. He loves how you see the world, no matter how ridiculous it is, though he's going to need to talk to you about how grades work. He squeezes your waist, "I believe in you Sweetheart."

Takashi Mitsuya

He supports your endeavours, he even encourages them!

You want to wear a skirt that shows off your panties, sure! Just let him make a few adjustments and- while we're at it, why doesn't he just bedazzle that top too!

He wants the best for his darling, which means that you're going to be wearing things fit for a queen

It's in his nature to spoil his girl, so don't worry your pretty little head about any of the gorgeous clothes that you want, he's already on it

Though, there's not a lot going in your pretty little head, which he doesn't necessarily mind

He doesn't care if you stay the stupidest shit imaginable

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes that he can't find it in him to worry too much about you

"Taka! This is so cute!" You spin around in your skirt, which raises above the lace panties that he also handmade for you. "Too bad about the people living in olden times." You pout.

Mitsuya walks up to you with a raised brow at your words. He wraps his hands around your waist, trying to think about what you could possibly mean. "Why, my love?" He finally bites.

You go on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a glittery mark. "They had to live in black and couldn't see all these pretty colours, like the clothes you make for me!"

Mitsuya nods along to your words, smile already pulling up at your words. He presses a kiss on your forehead. "That's not how it works my love."

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes, expecting him to explain everything to you. He smiles, brushing his thumb against your cheek. He's so hopelessly in love with you.

Keisuke Baji

He adores harlots, whores, and anything else of the variety!

He loves the dumb, hazy look in your eyes when you come across something "complicated" (first time he's the smart one in a relationship)

Loves the things you dress up, encourages you to dress however you want, you know what, get even sluttier! He wants your skirt to be so short that your panties show when you stretch the tiniest bit, shirts so tight that you can't wear a bra

He loves his babygirl, and everyone's free to take a look at you

As long as they remember that you belong to him

"Babe, what's wrong?" You question as Baji grips his hands around yours and growls. You press a kiss to his lips as you try to calm him down. Greedily, he bites your bottom lip and deepens the kiss, hands on your ass.

"Asshole was flirting with my pretty girl. Hate when people try to touch what's mine."

You start to tear up, thinking he's angry with you, "sorry baby, I didn't know!"

"Nonono," He presses his lips against you harder, adoring the way that your red lipstick will leave behind marks on his lips, "not your fault- never your fault. Jus' means we gotta set his car on fire." You nod in understanding, not thinking twice of his act of violence. He gives you a wide, toothy grin, he doesn't think that he could love someone more.

Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Definition of a tease

He doesn't care how you dress (one of the people that really adores how you dress and would appreciate you to get even sluttier). You could wear a bra and a thong outside and he wouldn't bat an eye.

He just loves making fun for how naïve you can be.

"C'mon, one kiss!"

"No!" You huff, crossing your arms and facing your back to him, "'m 100% loyal to 'hoya."

He restrains his laugh, biting down on his lip. "Baby, I am Nahoya!" He manages to force out (though some giggles slip his lips).

"No! You said you were Souya! 'm not gonna fall for your tricks!"

You already are he desperately wants to say, but he's having too much fun messing with you. "Well, now I'm saying I'm Nahoya."

He doesn't need to look your way to know that your brows have furrowed deeper, trying to run through things in your small little head. "No! I'm not a cheater."

He sucks his teeth. His stomach's gonna hurt with how much he's gonna be laughing later. He turns you around and presses a quick kiss against your lips, you giving an indignant gasp at the action. You'll probably be whining about this later, when he explains what's going on, but this was worth it. God, you're a keeper.

Yasuhiro Muto (Mucho)

Not someone who loves the way you dress, wouldn't disapprove of it completely, he would never tell you how to do things or what clothes to wear, but he subtly encourages you to wear something else

It doesn't come from a bad place, he's just protective of you and doesn't want you to get harassed (he's also a bit traditional)

If you're determined to wear what you want, then he'll bend to your will. He would never let you be uncomfortable

He'll get used to things, just for you

Your intelligence, though...

He loves you through and through but he's always on the look-out around you. He has to make sure that no one is taking advantage of your innocence

"What's going on here?" The guys crowding you stutter away, looking at him with wide eyes. You don't notice the fear that has blanketed them and beam at him, running to wrap your arms around his waist.

"'hiro. These guys are asking if I want to hang out with them in, do you want to come with us?"

He purses his lips, yet another group of guys preying on your naivety. "No darling, I think we're going to go, I'm sure that these guys understand." He narrows his eyes at them so that they understand the consequences if they try to stay around you. They get the message, scurrying away like rats they are. You look at them with a pout on your lips, not aware of their dark intentions. He cups the side of your face and turns you towards him, "darling, why don't we see a movie at home." Your frown quickly disappears, a wide smile replacing it.

"That sounds great 'hiro!"

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monzamash · 6 months

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cardinal sin — daniel ricciardo

"let's commit some sins." daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) a/n – this was way too fun, @rizzciado. masterlist

“Is this seat taken?”

The gentle voice drew your attention away from the vodka martini cradled in your dainty hands, eyes locking with a pair of dark brown ones waiting for an answer. You glanced around the hotel bar, wondering if the man was speaking to you or someone nearby but his gazed remained on you.

“Oh…” realising he was focused on you, “No, go ahead.”

“I’m Daniel,” He introduced and placed down his glass of red wine before pulling out the bar stool beside you.

Daniel hummed at the sound of your name when you indulged him in the pleasantries and repeated it back in his smooth Australian accent, “That’s a beautiful name.”

He was handsome, that was obvious and the way his smile radiated pure joy allowed you to slowly let your guard down. The cream knitted sweater he was wearing fit perfectly and the tailored black pants indicated his keen eye for fashion while the understated vintage Rolex sitting on his wrist exuded wealth. Old money.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You asked curiously, intently listening to his crooning voice as you sipped your martini.

His answer was vague, something about a special event happening in town that he was apart of but what really intrigued you was the fact he was holding your attention like no one had ever done before. You’d been approached by a stranger in a bar plenty of times, identical situations – but this man had mastered the art of the pick up. Small talk had never been so captivating.

“So how’s your night been so far?” Daniel turned the conversation to you and took a sip from his wine.

You sighed, “Bit of a bust to be honest. I was supposed to be on a date but he didn’t show up…”

Daniel gasped and leaned in close enough for his cologne to be spellbounding – Dior Sauvage. His eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, perplexed by the idea of you, a complete stranger, being stood up.

“What an idiot. If only he could see what he was missing,” He complimented and fell back again, leaving you wanting more.

The dismissive shrug of your shoulders sent your freshly curled waves flowing down your back, revealing a little more of your dress. Daniel’s respectful eyes skimming across your décolletage didn’t go unnoticed and you weren’t mad about it – only set alight.

“Eh, one man’s missed opportunity might be another mans good fortune,” You flirted back, fingers intentionally brushing his as you grasped your martini.

Daniel’s dark chuckle sent chills across your exposed skin, the tight black dress now feeling like the perfect choice. You could feel him nudging closer, knees bumping underneath the bar as he leaned forward and waved down the waiter who had been serving you for the past half hour.

“Hey man – can I get another one of these please?” He asked, pointing down at the empty glass sitting lonely in front of you, completely forgotten in scintillating conversation.

“And a whiskey on the rocks? Thanks mate.”

You propped your elbow up on the bar and rested your chin on you knuckles, eyebrow cocked at his choice of drink, “Moving onto the hard stuff?”

Daniel breathed out a soft laugh and turned to you, eyes shamelessly dragging over your newfound body language and pleased to no end with how intuitive you were to his charm. He knew you could match him, flirtatiously batting your eyelashes and giving him a little more attention than a stranger would. He was having too much fun.

“Yeah, well…” He paused and slipped the waiter a tip, “My wife is a bit of a prude and usually doesn’t like me mixing my wine with whiskey but she isn’t here tonight.”

A devious smirk tingled on your lips as you glanced playfully around the bar, “I certainly hope not. Where is she? There is no way I would let you out of my sight.”

“She’s out with her friends who take up way too much of her time.”

You let out a soft hum in response, “I’m sure she adores you.”

“You see – that’s the problem…” Daniel sucked in a sharp breath and leaned in, meeting you in the middle – lips ghosting your keen ear.

“She’s a little too good to me, if you know what I mean.”

You pulled back ever so slightly, catching Daniel’s gaze that had shifted to you plum coloured lips – eyes hungry for more when you whispered, “Do you want something bad?”

“Someone maybe…” He teased, noses brushing as your hands came up and gently adjusted the silver chain hanging around his neck.

“Promise I don’t bite.”

“I really hope that isn’t true,” You quietly but confidently retorted as Daniel reached down and expertly pulled your stool closer – his knee slotting in so close that you could feel his warmth through the thin layer of lace separating you from him. Teasing.

“Surely a pretty girl like you doesn’t dabble in the dark arts,” He taunted, knowing from the glint in your eye that you weren’t like most pretty girls.

“I like to think of it more as a fine art but you really have no idea who you’re dealing with here …”

Daniel couldn’t hide the way he felt hearing those words tumble from your mouth, lip bitten and trousers a little bit tighter than before. You were magnetic in his eyes, enigmatic and mysterious as you played with the stem of your martini glass, toying with him and fuelling the desire bubbling in his stomach.

“Tell me,” He challenged and watched as the devilish grin swept across your beautiful face.

“Or I could show you…”

A deep groan purred in Daniels throat as he inched forward and crashed his lips into yours, holding your jaw loosely between his thumb and fingers. Your mind was a haze as his tongue slipped around yours, searching for a moan that you generously gave. He was intentional with the way his lips moved against your own, pressure wavering as you became breathless.

“I’m staying here at the hotel…” You managed to breathe out; the statement laced with promiscuity and a promise of more.

“If you think the public is going to stop me then you're sorely mistaken, sweetheart," Daniel grumbled into your hair, fingertips rushing down your spine and stoking the flames within.

A guttural whine slipped from your throat as he took the soft, sensitive skin on your neck between his teeth, the subtle sound of your dress zipper made a small, barely there smile appear on your features. You loved the idea of him taking you right there and then but even you could admit when the limit had been reached.

But god, all you wanted to do was push the boundaries with him as you shoved him across the threshold of your expensive hotel room. Daniel was already half undressed by the time you left the elevator, decently tucking himself back into the waistband of his underwear after receiving the sloppiest blowjob of his life. As he looked down at you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around his thick cock, doe eyes gazing up, he was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven.

It was all heavy breathing and belt buckles clanging as you fell face first into the gloriously comfortable bed. Arse up in the air, dress hiked up and revealing the lace you’d picked specifically for the night. All you wanted was for him to fuck you stupid and what better way to start than his tongue gliding across your holes, tasting all of his hard work.

“Yes god, thank you…” Daniel praised, mouth glistening and no doubt looking up to a higher powers for serving you on a silver platter, “Or maybe I should be thanking the devil for delivering you.”

You craned your neck and watched as Daniel shed his knitted sweater, exposing his chest hair and a chiselled body, thighs squeezing at the sight. His devilish good looks and toothy smile had you hypnotised in his grip; strong hands grasping your hips and bringing you level with the hardness in trousers that was begging to be touched.

“You should be thanking your wife for letting you off the leash,” You quipped, taunting the gorgeous man standing above you – about to devour every single inch of you.

Daniel hummed in agreement and theatrically unzipped his trousers, “I’m the luckiest man in the fucking world.”

With a couple of firm strokes, Daniel was slipping into your warmth like a man starved. He had you up on your knees, back pressed against his strong chest while he fucked into you deep. The snap of his hips had you begging for mercy, or for more depending on the angle – every single inch he had lining your insides and hitting every bump along the way, fingertips playing with your swollen clit as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“I want you to fuck me like you fuck her…” You slurred, cock-drunk coursing through your veins, “But dirtier.”

And he did. The grip of his fingers around your gulping throat and the unrelenting pounding you were getting had you grasping for the hand holding your waist for dear life. Daniel was vocal but deliberate, every little whisper turned grunt in your ear sent shockwaves straight to your bud. The sound of how messy he was making you emanating through the humming hotel room, clenching hard and coming fast.

It was dark and filthy, just like the slurry of words dripping from Daniel’s swollen lips as he laid back and let you take control, “That pussy feels so fucking good around my dick, baby – fits me like a glove.”

“Mmm, you like it?” It was a rhetorical question – you could tell by the blown out pupils studying your every move how much he liked it.

Daniel’s strong hands crawled up your thighs, leaving light scratches on the skin before taking their rightful place on your sinking hips while you bottomed out. The burn of his stretch made your head fall back slightly, the bites littered across your collarbone making the man below you beam with pride. I fucking did that, he whispered to himself as you swept your hair to one side.

“Wanna come inside me, pretty boy?”

A strangled moan and a dramatic head nod was all the answer you needed – placing your hands on his thumping chest and lifting your hips gradually, teasingly. He held firm and guided you into the rhythm he needed to get himself off, eyes fluttering shut in concentration as you rotated slowly.

“I’m gonna fuckin' – oh, fuck. Holy shit.”

Watching him lose all control of his suave composure and submitting to the unadulterated pleasure had you coming undone around again, panting and moaning in synchronicity. The aftershocks of your high sent him tumbling over the edge – your pussy clenching his swollen dick as he filled you to the brim, dribbles of his high slipping down your shaking thighs.

“Take it all, baby… That’s it,” Daniel encouraged as you continued to slide up and down his softening cock – squeezing out every last drop.

“So fucking good to me.”

You collapsed into Daniels’ welcoming embrace, face nuzzled into his damp neck and breathing in his sweet scent. It was a scent you found comfort in and it didn’t take you long to find yourself melting into his touch. The facade finally falling.

“... We need to do that more often.”

“I liked how suave you were – so sexy. Really felt like you were in character,” You praised, brushing the dark unruly curls from your husbands blushing face.

“Huh, you liked that?” He baited, reeking of smug.

“Bitch, you know I did,” You scoffed and rolled onto your back, “But I always let you drink whatever you want so take it easy on the insults next time. Calling me a prude... Un-fucking-believable.”

Daniel chuckled, knowing you were only kidding and turned onto his side to take you all in - his beautiful wife, the one person who knew him better than anyone else. You were the person he had endless adventures with, the sex immaculate from the day you started dating ‘til now. The lust you had for each other never fading, in love.

“Roleplaying was your idea so don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Daniel yawned and wrapped his arm lazily around your bare torso.

He continued, “You were incredible though, like at the end with that little move you do that drives me up the fucking wall.”

You giggled and rested you head on his shoulder - legs intertwined under the covers as you listened to him relive the night, “We’re gonna need to do a play by play in the morning, I reckon.”

You sighed and closed your weary eyes, “Good shout, baby.”

“I love you."

“And I love you.”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #monzamashmasterlist

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bluecollarmcandtf · 5 months

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Yes Coach!

The second the basketball team heard their coach blow the whistle, something clicked in each of their minds. They didn't actually know what was happening. All they were aware of was the uncontrollable urge to drop to their hands and their knees and listen. So, in the middle of practice, each of the sweaty jocks crashed to the floor in a series of loud thuds.

"Listen up, boys!" the Coach's voice blared loud and robotically, "You're all a bunch of weak pansies! Aren't you?"

"Yes, Coach!" each and every one of the basketball players yelled back.

"Tonight, we have some real men stopping by to show us a thing or two," the Coach continued to yell at the top of his lungs, "You need a real man to show you how it's done, don't you?"

"Yes, Coach!" they all barked again in response.

"As we know, these men are to be obeyed to the letter!" he sprayed his words with artificial rage, "They deserve our respect and gratitude for the mental re-conditioning they gave us last week!"

"Yes, coach!"

"Andre!" the Coach suddenly whipped his head towards the point guard, "You remember what you learned last week, son?"

Andre's stomach dropped as the Coach's steely gaze scorched down at him. For a second, he couldn't remember what the man was talking about. Andre barely even remembered last week's re-conditioning session, but then it all came flooding back.

"Yes, Coach!" Andre reported, "I'll be the men's foot slave."

"Good boy," the Coach's lifeless voice replied, "And what does that mean, maggot?"

"It means I'll be taking care of the men's foot related desires. I'll clean their shoes, massage their feet, and that kind of stuff."

"That's right, boy, and don't forget that the men said you'll be using your tongue!"

Andre couldn't believe he'd forgotten that little detail. He cringed at the reminder, but as he thought about it more, he began to wonder what a real man's foot might taste like.

"Now, who's next? Nicholas!"

"Yes, Coach?"

The tall and lanky forward glanced up nervously. This whole ordeal just didn't seem right to him. Mr. Johnson never yelled at the players like this, and that deadpan expression on his face only added to the eeriness.

"You remember your job tonight, maggot?"

"Yes, Coach," Nicholas grimaced at the thought, "I'll be in the corner, face down, and ass up."

"That's right, son. Why don't you go get a head start on it!"

"Yes, Coach," the athlete grumbled and crawled away to the corner of the gym.

Nicholas couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but he knew that whatever it was could wait. It was just best to plant his face on the floor and prominently display his rear end. It was a really uncomfortable pose, but he sort of zoned out after a few minutes.

"The twins are next!" Coach barked, "Lance! Kyle!"

"Yes, Coach!" the identical athletes answered together.

"You two idiots remember you're jobs?"

"Yes, Coach," Lance answered for them, "We'll be stripping down to nothing to stand by the door like identical coat racks."

"That's right, and make sure each one of your extremities is rigid. The men will be expecting you to keep all their clothing off the ground," the Coach added, "Now, get on with it! Our guests should arrive soon."

"Yes, Coach!" the twins answered and hastily pulled off their sweaty jerseys.

The gym fell quiet for the next half hour or so as Lance and Kyle took their positions on either side of the main entrance. They silently extended each body part they could like a pair of awkward mannequins. Meanwhile, Nicholas snored away in the corner with his ass high in the air, while more and more drool leaked from Andre's mouth as he anticipated meeting some real men's feet.

"We're heeeeeere!" a distant squeal broke through the still quiet.

Suddenly, the "men" arrived, and a small crowd of overtly nerdy guys rushed into the gym and all hell broke loose!

Clothes were excitedly ripped off and tossed carelessly onto either one of the petrified coat racks. The basketball team's point guard got busy tongue-polishing each of their guests' worn loafers. A pair of geeks ran straight for the jock in the corner, already pulling his shorts down and slapping the hairy ass beneath it.

Tim, the scrawniest of the new arrivals surveyed his friends. They were all busy fighting over which athlete they wanted to personally boss around, but he was more interested in confirming that his science project was still running smoothly.

"Coach," Tim asked calmly, "You successfully delivered the trigger. Your work is done here."

"Yes, sir!" Mr. Johnson yelled in Tim's face.

"Geeze, stop yelling!"

"Yes, sir!" he repeated quietly.

Tim shook his head at his imperfect work. Mind control was a finicky science, but he was still proud that he'd managed to pull it off. Every single one of the basketball jocks seemed totally under their control.

Tim turned back to the Coach, "You remember what you're supposed to do next?"

"Yes, sir," the Coach's voice was as monotonous as ever, "I will reward you for conquering my team with a blowjob."

"That sounds perfect, buddy," Tim giggled, already placing a hand on the back of Mr. Johnson's head.

"You'll stay late tonight," Tim instructed the guy between moans, "My friends will want to take most of the jocks home, but whoever's left can be on clean up duty with you."

Coach began to pull his mouth away to answer a submissive "yes, sir," but Tim just grabbed his head and shoved it back down.

"Enough with the affirmative phrases already," he rolled his eyes, "Just say it in your head!"

#gay hypnosis #gay mind control #hypno story #gay ai #gay basketball

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citizen-zero · 11 months

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Probably the oddest comment/joke/criticism I’ve seen of Jack Seward is that he’s an incel. Which is kind of annoying because for all his (many) faults, his behavior is the polar opposite of a stereotypical incel’s behavior.

When Lucy rejects him, he asks if it’s because she’s in love with someone else, or if she’s just not interested, and he only asks so that he knows whether he might still have a chance or whether he should abandon his hopes. He respects her decision and offers friendship before promptly leaving. There’s never a moment where he behaves like he’s entitled to her time, attention, and affection. He doesn’t insult her or imply she’s wrong or an idiot for her choice, he does the very thing we constantly say men ought to do when rejected—he leaves her alone.

He doesn’t even express anger and entitlement towards her in private, nor does he denigrate her choice of man (which would be particularly shitty in this case since the three of them are friends). He’s just extra depressed about it, and maybe he’s more depressed than a lot of people would be, but I don’t think it’s all that unusual to feel crushed when you’ve been rejected by someone you really like. I think it’s very normal, actually (although obviously, in the modern era, at a certain point you’d probably want to see a therapist about it if it’s that persistent).

I guess I feel weird about it because it feels like there’s this underlying belief that if a guy shows any kind of romantic disappointment at all, no matter how well-handled, it makes him no different from men who harass and feel entitled to women and won’t take no for an answer. That’s not a good attitude to have! People are allowed to be sad and disappointed as long as they’re not making it the other person’s problem!

There’s a lot of well-deserved criticisms we can make of Jack Seward, but this one feels kind of like people who call Jonathan useless and weak because he doesn’t, like, try to fight Dracula or some other stereotypically manly thing.

#dracula daily #re: dracula #personal #erika's blog and bar

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zepskies · 7 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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genshinology · 1 year

Text

(UN)PROFESSIONAL APPROACH. alhaitham

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing; alhaitham x gn!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ genre; enemies to lovers au (idiots to lovers but they really don't want to admit how whipped they are to e/o), slightly platonic relationship but make it flirty and hot.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count; 1.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary; when alhaitham offered you a temporary job that just might require you to be by his side all the time, and you objected him without a second thought.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ content; sumeru archon quest spoilers!! this is written before his story quest just to satiate my self-indulgence so some things are not really in line with him in-game, profanities (when i say enemies, i really mean it), it is mentioned that reader is smaller than him, maybe alhaitham is ooc in this, sexual tension (slight suggestive ig but NOT nsfw), kissing, basically he puts reader in their place *wink wonk*

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes; his title of “acting grand sage” makes me feral for real.

"the acting grand sage is asking for your presence in his office," one of the scholars, or to be exact, alhaitham's personal and unofficial right-hand man firmly bowed to you slightly, his hand on his chest as of to give respect to you.

that kind gesture, however, weirded you out. the fact that you were no more than an ordinary adventurer casually strolling around akademiya's house of daena to find one of the books the matra asked you to find, and the fact that alhaitham knew you were here made you felt somehow unpleasant. what did the man want? why did he often interrupting the little peace you had?

it wasn't a great topic for gossip when almost everyone knew how horrible your term was with the akademiya's scribe. in fact, it was an infamous one. how you bickered with him most of the times, except that one time when he was serious enough to ask for your help during sumeru's worst case of scenario; helping lesser lord kusanali from the evil deed of former grand sage.

you couldn't remember the countless times others tried to stop you from strangling alhaitham back in the days. his words always found their ways to irk you, so much to the point that you dropped your mannerism to one of the respectable figures in sumeru, just to prove your point that you hated him as mush as he did.

the fact that alhaitham was offered to become the grand sage in the first place made you almost laughed dryly. sure, he had the brightest mind, but not the brightest attitude. especially not towards you.

someone liked him, heartless to his core, not even toning down his ignorance towards you, shouldn't even be the one that hold the highest position within akademiya itself.

maybe you were too harsh, but alhaitham was never kind to you since day one.

"what is it this time?" you sighed, the book in your hand was placed abruptly back in its place. you'd already made a mental note of where was the last place you searched to find that ancient book.

"please, sir alhaitham said it is a urgent matter," the scholar bowed again, and you almost huffed annoyingly. even this poor scholar was a hard-headed man just like his upper hand.

you didn't want to spend any more time with alhaitham, especially when you were running low on time for this one commission. the thought of discussing certain things with the scribe for more than 15 minutes already made you nauseous.

so, you did what you know was the best. to quickly meet him, and then moved on.

because that was how things had always been.

"you.." your voice was trailing off, and you seemed to not find your balance despite you first barged in to his office without a cue, and shamelessly sat down on his desk that was littered with papers—much to how you wanted to show him how rude you could've been to him. "you're seriously out of your mind," you shrieked, hopping down quite aggressively from his desk as he could only leaned back on his chair and arms spreading across his chest, watching tentatively at how you were literally throwing a tantrum in his office.

"if i am out of my mind, then so be it," alhaitham's voice was booming with seriousness—fuck, you thought. he didn't lie when he said that he wanted you to become his assistant for a while.

despite how messy his desk had became from your frustrations more than 15 minutes ago, he didn't do anything to stop you.

fuck him.

"i am seriously going to leave you hanging if you still insist on me taking up your proposal and shove down my throat like you want to," you almost ripped a paper apart, until you realised how doomed you would be if you accidentally messed up his work.

"have you ever think that this may be a good chance? if you want to leave, then i am not against it," alhaitham's calm yet scary voice sounded way too hoarse. and you immediately knew, your action was slowly getting on his nerves.

"i don't even know why you chose me," your eyebrow lifted, as if trying to mock him. the audacity of this man was way too much, he even had the courage to ask you to work for him? hell, no. "i am an adventurer, sir," you almost scoffed at the title people insisted you to address him. "if you could find me a position as a matra, then i am totally okay with it."

obviously you didn't want your skills to be of no use.

"i don't even know how, or why you are even capable of this position. and now you want me by your side almost all the time? i truly apologise, and i am kindly rejecting it," you rolled your eyes instinctively, and you just could see how your words made him shuffling from his intimidating position on his chair to him standing up to show how superior he was from you.

he was fucking looking down at you, as if his eyes were mocking you back. "you hate me this much?"

sure, the tension was unparallel when he boldly moved closer to you. and sure, you might be quite scared to see him up this close since he never really acted verbally on how annoyed he was at you. always used his words instead of actions. and you were truthfully slightly alarmed at the situation.

despite how dizzy you felt at the smell of him, you snickered. "yes, and what about it?"

your bravery was something alhaitham adored. cute, he thought. it was honestly disgusting how he found you cute when you already knew how different your physique was when compared to him.

"i have told you," he was way too close, oh no. your mind went overdrive, and you thought you might have pushed his buttons a little bit too far. "you can walk out of this office if you want to," he said sternly, almost trapping you from a distance only god knows how weak you suddenly felt against his desk and the overwhelming presence of him.

"but your pretty brain decided to be foolish, or being deliberately obtuse, in my own office and messing up my paperwork," he was at the breaking point. the way you eyed up his lips made him felt the sudden urge to shut your mouth up for running wild against him.

"and now you're questioning my capabilities?" he chuckled darkly, seeing how defeated you were behind those eyes, for the first time in his entire life, he would just admit out loud that he found you more interesting as a person rather than all things he had been documenting thus far.

"as much as i despised you for dragging my years of hard work along that sharp tongue of yours," his hand was suspiciously inching closer to the back of your head, and your body shivered at the subtle contact. "you really are endearing when being lost just like this."

you were trembling, a lot more than you were used to. something about him successfully trapped you in between his big arms, with his desk behind you, and the way you unknowingly puckered your lips in annoyance—or did you really do this on purpose? to irk him this much? he would never know—made everything in him to not actually did what his mind wanted him to. to finally show you how oblivious you were at the sheer amount of attention he had given to someone else besides his work for the past months. how oblivious you were at him and his feeling.

it was just like that since forever. how true feelings were unspoken of towards one another in this whatever push-pull relationship he had with you.

yes, he was a practical man with thousands of logics that didn't give a single care towards anybody else, but god, you were so fucking cute when you tried to act brave in front of him. when he knew you were attracted to him, much like him towards you.

it was a lot to maintain eye contact and continued with this facade. not when he was getting closer and closer, not when you could feel his warm breath hitting repeatedly against your nose and lips, not when you could feel how hot your surrounding atmosphere was, and totally not when you felt so bothered by the fact that one tiny move from you and you could feel his lips on yours.

"kiss me, sir. do it," it was a miracle, honestly, how you could still muster up some courage and dignity left in you to challenge him to not succumb into the thick air of tensions. his eyes told million stories behind them, and alhaitham's one side of his mouth could only curve upwards.

fucking cute, he thought. how you were so sure of yourself that this was a challenge for him, when in fact, he didn't mind losing if this was really the opportunity for him to finally stop your mouth from hurting his ego.

his hand now was undoubtedly gripped your nape tighter, and it was a sickeningly sweet gesture of him to massage your nape momentarily, as if to tell you that he would do it and you should relax for him.

everything about this man was driving you insane. you felt the way he caved in to the temptation as the heat radiating off of his body and into yours.

he stopped in his track, teasing you slightly by brushing his perfect and beautiful lips—you might be already smitten all over him if you really thought of him that way—against your parted lips. his breath hitched when he could also feel the way your ragged breath practically telling him that you wanted more than just a mere teasing.

he was the winner, after all, wasn't he?

"i know you want to shut me up. i dare you," you whispered against his annoyingly attractive face, feeling as if you would collapse if he continued on holding you like this in such a suffocating position. "kiss me."

"gladly."

his lips were on yours the moment you wanted to come back with a snarky remark. your breath was knocked out of your body from the intensity. the way alhaitham's official name plate on the desk was knocked over by you and onto the floor made him smiled against your lips as your eyes fluttered.

he really had you smitten, there was no doubt of it.

the metallic sound came from the clashing with the floor made you flinched slightly against his hold, and alhaitham took it as a signal to pull you by the waist, other hand purchased its way to push you deeper into him. for him to feel you more, for you to know how desperate you were despite those constant bickerings you threw at him just to get his attention, and they were effective for god's sake. because now alhaitham couldn't deny how relieved he felt that he could finally get you where he wanted.

maybe you really should have accept his proposal in the first place. it was definitely his fault for making you felt butterflies in your stomach right at this moment.

#☆.works #yaepublishinghouse #twilighttheatre #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #alhaitham imagines #al haitham imagines #alhaitham fluff #al haitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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creepy-friday · 9 months

Note

Hi, i really like your "life as a female proxie" post and was wondering if you could write a second one😊

Sure thing!

Life as a female Proxy /"things you love"

Warnings: blood,violence,NSFW mentions,suggestive content

It was the mundane,really.The early hours of the day,the smell of the forest,the somewhat warm funny feeling you shared with some of the other creeps,knowing you are all stuck as slaves to a tall being that lacks a face almost as much as it lacks a heart.

The respect the others had for you,some more than the others, the way some passed you and titled their heads that made the strings inside your head tighten about the fact that a faceless creature entrusted you with this responsability.

Maybe the slurs..the constant anger towards your position above the other proxies and below The Operator,it reminds you that you are being seen,that you're not a ghost or a random demon you have to hunt.

Your dreams,where numeros entities showed up,entities where Candy Pop,Jason and often LJ were present,and even if they loved to fuck with your brain,they all acknowledged your power,and sometimes even seemed to guide you to a "better world",almost as if they wanted to have you all for themselves.

The feeling of normality once every two months or so when four residents were assigned to go out to buy necessities for the mansion.Going out in public,being able to make jokes,as if roleplaying normal 9 to 5 working people.

The sex.You could ask for it,you can get it either way,your position certainly gives you this advantage even against the ethics.Not only every resident shared a human known loneliness,but you could wait for some problematic thing to happen that has to be reported to the big boss and you could blackmail any fucker into finishing you off,they can live on without any sort of punishment after that.

The power.Nothing really stops you from being a menace in the mansion.I would say that you can use Slenderman's preference to you to your advantage,but he expects you not to..but after all you're a mortal being,he would be disappointed but not surprised.Nothing stops you from ordering people around,from degrading others,from being a bitch like others chose to be.

The late nights after finishing a week old mission.The last night before heading back to the mansion is filled with a family like atmosphere,almost like all of you are siblings and teasing eachother around.

"It's fucking burnt Brian." Masky commented on the toast his friend gave to him.

"Not as burnt as your head.Quit the drugs." the brunette answered calmly."Are they even allowed?"

"Not sure.Is the witch gonna tell on us?" Masky locked eyes with you as you simply shrugged while crossing your arms.

"W-Well?Are you?" Toby asked while a tic escaped from him."Why do you care Rogers?Your burnt as well?" the white masked man asked while taking another bite.

"No.It's seems..white." he answered while looking at the piece of bread in his hand.

"Fucking idiot.." Masky facepalmed himself while Brian chuckled as you placed a reassuring hand on Toby's back.

The love.The eternal need,the awful dreadful and oh-so-terrible lust,desire,total despair to be loved,accepted and fully knowing you belong.The quiet giggles between some residents,the close bond between Masky and Hoodie,the gazes that some shared that made tension rise in the room..even between demons like us,love wins against all odds.

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #y/n #headcanons #creepypasta scenarios #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jane the killer #female proxy #proxy x reader #creepypasta proxy

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lazywhore0-0 · 8 months

Text

Genshin impact men!

-“ craving their touch…”

♡︎All day you teased your man, wanting to tempt him so you could get what you finally wanted. His touch. Unfortunately, you pushed his limits too far..

Xiao, Diluc, kaeya, scaramouche x fem!reader

NSFW - may be intense,

★︎☆︎★︎—————-

Xiao

Xiao had finally returned from his small expedition with the traveler. You missed him dearly, but you were also missing…a certain part of him. You felt needy and desperate, so the entire day you teased him. Gently ghosting your fingers over his anemo markings on his exposed arm, letting his name coyly fall from your lips. You knew he wanted to be close to you after he came back from the expedition, but you purposely deprived him of you.

You’d let your gaze linger on him longer than needed, moving closer. Whenever you did this it meant you wanted to give him a quick sweet kiss. As usual, xiao sat there, blank expression but his eyes filled with warmth as he waited. But instead of giving him the usual sweet kiss, you pulled away.

At first he assumed that you were upset, but it didn’t take him long to figure out that you were pushing him. Trying to see his limits.

Before you knew it, you were straddling his lap as his gloved hands gripped your hips, slamming you down onto him. He made you take all of him, your hands on his shoulders as your face flushed and moans left you. “You seem to have no respect for the Adepti..” he’d slam you back down, soon moving you to lay on your back as he hovered over you, “I’ll make you learn it.”

He began to pound into you, his Adeptus strength helping him hold you down with one hand, his other hand holding your leg up as he kept going. His face was flushed, his golden eyes locked on you, and when they weren’t, they were closed as he embraced the feeling.

He lowered his head by your neck, his hand now on your hip as his thrusts became sloppy. He bit down on your shoulder, feeling you come against him, for the fourth time. Your legs trembled and you looked up at him. But he wasn’t done. He was going to show you just how powerful an Adeptus could be. (Though he’d feel guilty afterwards. Guilty yet selfishly satisfied.)

Scaramouche

He was always bossing you around, acting high and mighty as usual. You were similar to an obedient secretary when it came to him. But recently he’s been so busy focusing on other things that you’ve been feeling touch starved. You would ask him to touch you, but it’d only fuel his ego more, making him purposely hold off on giving you relief.

At first you tried to tempt him, bending over slowly to pick things up, swaying your hips more as you walked. Opening your shirt a bit more—but none of it seemed to work. Defeated, you went to the hallway, where you saw a fellow member. You and him began talking, but there was…a flirtatious air about him.

And like an idiot, you entertained those thoughts of his. Laughing along with him and smiling up at him. He must’ve been new, since he didn’t fear for his life for flirting with you. Unfortunately Scara had turned around the corner and saw the entire interaction. So when you returned to his private office room… you were in for it. You were met with his piercing gaze.

“Bend over.” He’d command, and before you knew it your clothes were off as your stomach was pressed against his desk, his two fingers thrusting inside of you. “You think I didn’t realize what you were up to?” He then added a third finger, his hand moving to grip your hair and pull your head back as desperate whimpers left you. “Tempting me then running off to flirt with some pathetic loser.”

He curled his fingers inside your gummy walls, his hand that gripped your hair pulled you back, so your back was arched as you leaned up, his mouth by your ear. “You’re nothing but a cock slut, huh?” He then pushed you back onto his desk, the tight feeling in your stomach letting lose as you came. You gripped the edge of the desk, eyes rolling back at feeling, but just as quickly as you came, he replaced his fingers with something else. You gasped out at the feeling, and his hand moved down your hip sensually as he stood behind you.

“You want to be a slut? I’ll treat you like one.” He then began to pound into you from behind, his hands on your hips, pulling you back against him. He then pulled out, flipping you over onto your back and pinning your hands by your head. His intense glare was locked on you as he slowly slid his length back in—making sure you felt every inch move past your walls. “My cock thirsty slut. I bet your so fucking happy. Look at you sucking me in so nicely…how pathetic.” Once fully in, he continued his harsh thrusts, watching how your face was overwhelmed with pleasure from him and him only.

Diluc

He was focused on the Tavern, yet you couldn’t help but feel needy. Watching his long slender fingers move as he cleaned, his broad back hugged tightly by the dark outfit he wore. Your boyfriend was handsome…and without knowing, he was temping you.

So you decided to do the same. You’d brush your hand past his chest. Moving your hand to his shoulder as you whispered to him in a seductive tone. It was funny to see him hold in his composure in front of others—as the tavern was filled that day.

A man at the bar at sat down, complimenting your waitress dress. You grinned at him, “thank you. I think it suits me quite well.”

Diluc couldn’t believe his eyes. This man was gawking at you, looking you up at down, and all you did was grin in return. He then moved over to you and the man. “Apologies for the interruption, but can you get the spare glasses in the back? We’re in need of some.” You nodded, moving to the back room.

Unfortunately for you, the back room door opened not too much longer after you stepped in.

Your back was against the wooden wall, Diluc’s hand under your dress as his fingers thrusted into you. His hand was by your head as he whispered, “entertaining other men, are we?” He moved to gently kiss your neck, “bad decision darling.”

His long lengthy fingers curled inside you, hitting the best spots. His rough thumb moved to do circles on your clit, his face flushing pink at the sounds of your helpless moans. “I was going to wait and bring you to the manor…but I suppose my patience worn thin. Now be quiet…I don’t want anyone else hearing you but me.”

Kaeya

Honestly it didn’t take much to tempt him. You sat in his office, on his desk, looking into his eye. Your thighs were exposed as your dress lifted up, and kaeya smirked as he sat in his chair. “Giving me a show I see? You certainly have me entertained..”

“Good.. focus on me instead of this” you’d say, pushing the work papers back. Kaeya smirked, moving to stand up. His hands moved to your waist. “Gladly.” He then began to kiss you. Tongues against each other, his hands moving to roam, purposely making his finger tips cold to tease your body.

His hand moved to spread your legs, moving between them. His mouth was by your neck, his other hand gently rubbing circles on your hip. “I hope you know I do have to punish you for trying to distract me while I’m at work…” he kissed your neck, his hand moving the lace you wore to the side.

“But you’ll be a good girl and take it all, hm?”

With that, he began to sensually move inside you. Your toes curled at the feeling, your hands on his shoulders. His hips rocked against yours. You saw how kaeya’s eyes were locked on your expression, adoring how it changed after each thrust. He rolled his hips against you as you pulled him into another kiss, his hand moving under your shirt, making his fingertips cold as they pressed against your bud. Your body jumped at the feeling, and he rolled it between his fingers, making sure to continue the intense kiss. He pulled away from the kiss, watching how you moved your body against his.

“Such a slutty expression just for me…you’re truly beautiful, love..”

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