#the whole series fucks with my brain but this one??? Just straight up short circuiting material

[dwalendinhetniets]

just rewatched dark s2e6 and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#the whole series fucks with my brain but this one??? Just straight up short circuiting material #i am unable to be normal about it #pre-dark jonas having fun and going swimming with his friends!! #slighty older jonas kissing martha which was supposed to be like romantic or something but noooo it is just very tragic and it makes me want #to cry but also punch a wall and scream #and i am not even talking about mikkel/michael/older jonas and the ultimate fistbump because i need some braincells left #okay but jonas getting it on with martha while his other version is trying to stop his father and in that way ensuring that his father will #do exactly what happened before just ... #i want to talk about it so much but i have no words for it other than that i want to scream at the sky (and also bo and jantje) #IT IS SO TRAGIC BUT ALSO SO BEAUTIFUL. IT IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IT WILL DESTROY ME #so uhm... yeah... peace out i guess? #isa absolutely losing it #dark netflix #ein unendlicher kreis

[kriffingstars]

eddie munson; tiddies

next : 2

pairings : eddie munson x female!reader summary : after a drunken evening eddie's name ends up written on your tits. he catches a glimpse in the cafeteria warnings : soft smut (minors dni), underage drinking (reader is a senior), mild swearing i’d just like to thank a wild night out for the inspiration on this one. i’m a slut for eddie munson. part 3 of tutor is coming and I've got two requests i'm writing plus another eddie headcannon series in the works.

masterlist and taglist

okay hear me out, getting drunk with eddie and somehow he ends up signing your tit with a sharpie. it doesn’t click that the pen is sharpie until you wake up the next morning and it’s not coming off in the shower.

do not ask how it ended up happening, neither of you know it just did

sods fucking law you’ve not done your washing recently and the top you’re wearing has a pretty low v-neck. one wrong move and the whole of the student body is going to see eddie (or at least the start of it because it’s so big the first few letters aren’t even covered by your bra).

it’s kinda hot. knowing that you’ve got his name, written by him, somewhere that people only ever really see unless you’re getting intimate.

or you’re drunk with your best friend who you’re only a little bit in love with

eddie doesn’t remember straight away, but when you sit down at the lunch table and lean over to give gareth some english notes he sees it

this boy chokes, he’s beet red and that part of the evening is coming back to him, it’s not that he blacked out or anything but he was definitely thinking it was just something his drunk brain imagined

now he’s got a hard on in the cafeteria and whilst the jeans look cool there’s nothing left to the imagination

the rest of the hellfire club have no clue what’s going on, but your eyes widen slightly as you realise what’s got him so worked up

he’s turned on, you’re turned on. and this is where the tension finally snaps

‘meet me in the van’ he murmurs as he quite abruptly grabs his stuff and stalks off

you’re excusing yourself not long after he left, telling the hellfire club you’ve got to go and see mr mundy about some extra credit

when you get to his van the first thing he does is grip your hips and pull you closer into a needy kiss

this is new but you’re not complaining

neither of you have to say anything about your feelings for each other, your actions are saying it for you

eddie is so needy

you would think that he’d be all dominant, and maybe if he’d written his name and then gotten off with you at the same time he would be

but this caught him unaware and he��s just so weak

his favourite girl with his name, written haphazardly in sharpie claiming what’s his

he’s a puddle

before you know it you’re making out straddling him in the back of his van

your hands are in his hair, pulling gently on it

and his hands are palming your tits through your shirt

‘let’s take this off,’ he murmurs into your skin, whilst tugging at the bottom of the fabric

‘wanna see my name on my tits,’

as soon as your shirt is off eddie’s kissing, and sucking on the top of your breasts, leaving hickies on the unmarked one

he’s starting to unravel and this is all too much for him so when you decide to start palming him through his trousers

it’s all over

putty in your goddamn hands

moaning into your tits, pushing his face so far into them he’s basically suffocating

‘eddie…eddie baby,’ your voice breaks him out of his trance, pulling him back into the moment letting out an absolutly pathetic whine when he realises the movement of your hand has stopped

‘i’m not sleeping with you for the first time in the high school parking lot,’

he just kind of short circuits because you said first time. and that’s implying it’s going to be more than once and he just can’t quite believe how someone so beautiful actually wants him

you lean in nice and close to his ear, your voice low and sensual with the promise that, if he can drive you back to his trailer you’ll let him fuck your tits

he’s never moved so fast in his life

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Side Chapter 1

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :)

WARNINGS: This chapter contains NSFW content pinv and oral (m and f receiving) if you are under the age of 18 please do NOT interact with this post. This post does not need to be read to understand the plot of our Church Encounters fic. 

You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D

Comment on my post or @barbiewritesstuff’s post to be added to the tag list.

PS. If Glen is reading this, do you like it so far?

Tagging those who may be interested: @roosterscock  @sydneyhlove​

You stumbled into the hotel room as Jake peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses onto your neck. In a remarkable feat of self control, Jake had managed to keep his hands off of you until everyone else has disembarked from the elevator, but as Bob left with a wink to continue the celebration of his engagement to Maria with Rooster, Fanboy and Payback on floor three, Jake had turned to you and caged you in between the wall and his chest, pinning you with one knee between your legs. As his knee had moved between your legs, it had brushed against your core and with that, your brain could only think of ripping Jake’s uniform off as soon as you passed the threshold of your room. The elevator door opened again on your floor and the two of you stumbled down the hall almost drunkenly towards your room. 

Jake struggled to get the keycard out of his wallet, and you pressed yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. At the contact Jake paused his motions before more hurriedly working to get into the room. When the door clicked open, he pushed into the room quickly, dragging you with him as you giggled. 

As soon as the door closed, Jake pushed you against it, nibbling the soft skin where your neck turned into your shoulder and going down til he hit your collarbone. The feeling of his hot breath against your flesh gave you goosebumps and short-circuited your brain. You could no longer think, your hand subconsciously moving down to Jake’s trousers to palm him through the fabric of his dress whites. 

That simple gesture made Jake whimper into your neck. He buried his face into you as you continued rubbing him through the uniform. Jake had waited close to a year and a half for this, having stopped touching himself at the same time as he gave up the idea of sex. He had, however, thought of this almost every day since you started dating and certainly every second of every hour for the past week.

Worried he wouldn’t last on your wedding night, he mustered the strength to grab your wrist, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to embarrass myself,” he warned you, sending a wave of desire straight between your panties. Slowly backing away from the door and dragging you with him, he moved towards the bed. 

He turned towards you. You undid a button behind your neck, dropping the dress to the floor to reveal a lacy lingerie number you had purchased the week before. It had caught your eye in a shop window you had passed with Jake, later that day, he had left to finalise a few wedding details and you had gone back to purchase the set. The matching bra and panties seemed to please your new husband because as as soon as you dropped the dress, Jake let out a pornographic moan.

“Fuck baby,” he whimpered again, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he added under his breath, reaching out with one hand to touch the skin of your stomach, “You’re going to kill me sweetheart.” 

“Do you like it?” you asked coyly, biting your lower lip as you removed a few of the bobby pins from your hair, letting it cascade down your shoulders in neat little ringlets and wafting a wave of your perfume in Jake’s direction. 

You moved towards Jake, who had seemingly forgotten how to function, and put your hands on his chest, gently moving down to the hem of his jacket, popping the buttons as you worked your way back up. You brushed his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. You let out a breathy laugh as you brought your hands to his trousers and popped that button too, letting it join his jacket on the carpet. As you did that, Jake’s brain seemed to turn back on just enough to take off his shirt, leaving him standing in front of you in nothing but his underwear.

The lingerie set you were wearing had entranced him but as he watched you grow shy, Jake felt himself turn back to his usual, confident self. He pushed you onto the bed so you landed on the soft mattress with a thud. You propped yourself onto your elbow just in time to see him climb the bed on all fours. He kissed up your ankle, moving upwards agonisingly slowly. Once he reached the edge of your panties, he raised up a hand to gently touch the fabric, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over the gaps in between the lace and blowing on them, sending chills down your spine. 

Jake tore himself from your panties, promising himself to return soon. He continued his way upwards till he reached your bra, tracing his fingers on your chest, careful to avoid where you desperately wanted him until he no longer could. His mouth descended upon your breast, capturing your nipple with his teeth, his tongue flicking it through the fabric. You moaned and Jake involuntarily buckled his hips into the mattress. He raised his head to look at you through glazed over eyes. You were lying beneath him, eyes closed and head thrown backwards against the pillow, reacting to every single movement he made with a gasp. 

Even though he desperately didn’t want to, Jake continued upwards towards your neck again. He nibbled your collarbone, then the edge of your jaw and the lobe of your ear. 

“Do you like it?” Jake mirrored your earlier question with the same tone of voice. You let out a breathy laugh, turning to look at him. He captured your lips in a searing kiss. The hand that had rested on your chest moved down your stomach till it hit your panties, he slipped one finger over the edge, teasing you by running it underneath the hem and laughing slightly when you let out a frustrated groan. 

“Is this what you want?” he asked, giving in to both your desires and slipping his hand underneath your underwear. 

Jake fingers travelled down your core till they came to rest against your clit. He rubbed a few tentative circles, only accelerating his motions when you buckled your hips against his hands. When you did it again, his finger slipped. Confronted with the wetness of your core, Jake moaned. His lips left yours as he dropped his forehead against the pillow, his hips rutting into the mattress until he regained control of himself.

Jake stopped his movements at your core, pulling his hand from you, you let out a disappointed groan, shifting up to look at him. HIs eyes were blown wide with lust, and you were honestly a bit surprised with how much self restraint he had considering the man hadn’t had a release in almost two years. 

“Baby,” he said, “I need you to tell me how far you’ve been before,” his voice gruff and grovely. 

You felt yourself blush, a bit of embarrassment at your inexperience creeping into your mind, “I, well, I,” you took a breath, looking him in the eye again, “I haven’t ever gotten this far with anyone before.” 

“Jesus,” Jake groaned out, leaning forward and pulling you into a heated kiss, “God you’re perfect.” 

You let out a moan at his words, no one had ever made you feel this good before, and Jake was quite good at what he was doing. 

“Can I take these off?” he asked, dragging a finger over your bra and then down to your panties. You nodded immediately, wanting them off almost as much as he did, “I need to hear you say it baby,” he said, looking at you for vocal confirmation. 

“Yes, please, Jake,” you said, your body tingling under his fingers as they trailed over your heated skin. 

You felt some pressure against your hips before a ripping sound filled the room. Looking down, you saw the remnants of your once beautiful lace panties now torn and bunched up in Jake’s hand. You looked at him with your jaw dropped, and Jake just smirked at you, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll buy you another pair,” he said, “Looked too good in them not to replace.” 

With one hand, he unclasped your bra, pulling it down your arms. With a groan, he leaned down and buried his face in your ample breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples like a man starved. 

You arched your back, pressing a hand to the back of his head to keep him there as you let out a moan that you were sure the next room heard. Before you could feel embarrassed by the noise, Jake moved down your chest, trailing kisses across your stomach before planting one on your hip bone, sucking in such a way you were sure there would be a bruise in the morning. 

He pulled back from you, spreading your legs for him gently. When he paused, just staring at your glistening lips, your reflex was to close your legs. 

“You’re beautiful baby, such a pretty pussy,” he groaned out, leaning forward, “I bet you’ll taste just as good as you look.” 

With that, his mouth latched around your clit and your whole body arched off the bed as you let out a moan of his name, “Jake!” 

You felt his tongue flick against your clit as his fingers spread your wetness around, gently glazing over the place where you wanted him most. Suddenly, he pressed one of his thick digits into your heat, the feeling was foreign to you, but the stretch felt good. You let out a desperate moan when you felt his wedding band press against your entrance, the cool metal a contrast to your heated skin. 

He let out a moan against you, making you clench around his finger. With that, Jake pressed his mouth tighter to your aching cunt, the obscene sounds he was making filled the room with your desperate moans. 

He started moving his finger inside of you, pulling back just enough to breath out against your clit, “So tight baby, feels so good, taste good too, could eat this every day.” 

His words made you clench around his finger again, and the scrape of his evening stubble against your sensitive skin made you squirm against him searching for any friction to relieve the pressure that you felt building up inside you. 

“You like that baby? Take what you need honey, let me give it to you,” Jake said, finally pressing his mouth back against you. He pressed a second finger into you and you felt fuller than you ever had before. Arching your back, you chased the feeling building up inside of you until, suddenly, it washed over you violently. You bucked your hips against Jake’s face as you let out a strangled moan of his name. He flattened his tongue against you, letting you ride out your orgasm for all you were worth. 

When you came down from your high, he gently removed his fingers from you and you watched as he brought them up to his lips, sucking the remains of your orgasm from them. 

As he climbed back up the bed, towards you, you leaned back against the pillows. Jake pressed his lips gently to yours, and you found the taste of yourself to be not all unpleasant. 

“Baby, I’m going to need some help before we get to the final act or I’m going to embarrass myself,” he said, looking down at you with a desperate look on his face. He fell onto the bed next to you, turning around on his back. 

You nodded, “Anything,” you said, rolling on to your side and pressing your sticky thighs together. You leaned forward and placed a kiss to his chest, when he didn’t protest, you began working your way down his abs, stopping to admire how they shifted under his skin. Suddenly, the desire to like them overtook you. Looking up at Jake, you opened your mouth and ran your tongue from the skin at his Adonis belt up to his pec. Jake let out a groan, one of his hands threading through your hair.  He sat up, his eyes lingering on your mouth for a moment before he shut them tightly, he let out a groan before asking, “You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“No,” you replied with a smile, “How am I doing?” you asked rather boldly as you tugged at the band of his underwear. Jake lifted up his hips to help you along as you shuffled his boxer briefs down his legs, throwing them to the corner of the room. Catching on the band his member sprung free, hitting his lower stomach and depositing a small, shiny pearl of precum on his skin.

You wrapped your long, slender fingers around his rock-hard member, spitting on the tip to lube him up. Jake shifted before you could do anything else, sitting up with his back against the headboard while you moved to straddle his thigh. Your spit had travelled down his cock, you gathered it inside your hand, slowly pumping his erection a few times. 

Jake closed his eyes, enjoying your ministrations. Acting like the video you had ‘researched’, you added a second hand, keeping that one against the back of his cock so it rubbed against the sensitive part of his tip as you jerked him off. He groaned as you kept going, now moving your hand a little faster. His head fell back against the wall as you accelerated, the sight of which made you grind down on his leg. The cold feeling of your slick spreading itself on his leg made him buck up into your hand.

“Are you okay?” you asked, breaking up Jake’s litany of moaned swearwords and curses.

“Close,” was the only coherent word he managed to utter. Getting an idea, you moved off of his leg to kneel between his legs. Jake had closed his eyes as soon as you grabbed his cock and he had seen the shiny golden band around your finger. He didn’t notice you bending down until your face was inches away from him. It was only when he felt your hot breath against his tip that his eyes flew open just in time to see you wrap your lips around his dick. One of the hands he had fisting the sheets flew to your hair, gently grabbing a handful as you tried to fit more of him inside your mouth.

“You don’t have to take all of me, baby,” he said, his voice shaky and strained.

You moaned around his cock in response, earning yourself a groan. Jake hit the back of your throat and you gagged, you felt his hand grip your hair tighter as he pulled you up slightly, “I --” was all he managed to utter in warning before shooting his spend inside your mouth with a strangled shout. 

You pulled yourself off of him, swallowing his cum. He looked at you in awe as you licked your lips, now pink and swollen. Jake lunged forward, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so you laid beneath him. 

He pressed a hot and needy kiss to your lips before moving his head to your ear, “You sure you haven’t done that before sweetheart?” 

You nodded, “Only for you,” you responded, your voice sounding sultry and teasing. 

Jake rutted up against you, his erection back already, and he let out a groan, “You’re killing me baby,” he whispered out, “I need you.” 

“I’m yours, take me,” is all you said before you felt him reach down and rub the head of his cock against your slit and up to your clit. 

You moaned at the sweet friction he was subjecting you to when Jake’s voice broke through your hazy mind, “Alright honey, I’m going to go slow, whatever you want okay?” he asked. 

Nodding, you let out a breathless, “Yes, please Jake.” 

He groaned again as he slipped the first inch of himself into you slowly, “You’re so tight baby, like you were made for me…like you were made for me.”

He pushed himself further into you with a small snap of his hips and you let out a hiss of pain, digging your nails into his biceps where they were bracketed around you. 

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” Jake whispered into your hair, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead as he stilled his hips against yours, “Let me know when to move okay?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his neck, a few tears slipping down your cheeks and on to his skin. Letting out a deep sigh, you pulled back from his neck and looked up at him. The desire that had been written on his face previously had melted away and he looked at you tenderly. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, you said, “Just do it, okay? I can adjust once you’re in me all the way.” 

Jake looked down to where the two of you were connected, letting out a deep groan before looking back up at you, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Please just be gentle,” you replied quietly, pulling him down to you so he wouldn’t see the pain cross over your face. Jake slowly pressed into you, pausing when he came upon your barrier, “I love you,” he said into your ear before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.  

“I love you too,” you responded in kind, running your hands up over his shoulders and into his hair. You stilled your hands, waiting for him to move again. When he finally pressed the rest of the way into you, you let out a strangled sob, the pain was more intense than you ever expected it to be. 

Jake pulled his head back, he pressed little kisses over your face, stroking his hands through your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, “You’re doing so good baby. I’m sorry I hurt you. ‘m gonna make you feel good. I love you…” 

You closed your eyes, trying to relax your body under his ministrations. Jake’s intrusion started to hurt less after a minute and soon, all you could feel was the pressure from before. You shifted your hips against his, searching for friction and let out a moan as you clenched around him when the hair at the base of his dick dragged against your clit. 

Jake stopped whispering to search your face, “Baby, look at me,” he demanded. 

You opened your eyes, looking up at him in a daze, “Please Jake, I’m ready,” you whined, squirming against him some more. 

“I’ve got you baby, I’ll take care of you,” he growled as he pulled his hips back before pushing himself into you again slowly. His pace was a slow and gentle rocking, and it was driving you crazy. 

“Jake,” you keened, bucking yourself up against him as he thrust into you again. 

“What do you need baby? Tell me what you want,” he asked, searching your face desperately for any sign that you were ready for him. 

“Faster, please Jake, faster,” you begged, bucking up again and meeting him halfway up his thrust. 

Jake picked up the pace slightly but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure what you were after, just that Jake felt good, he felt right and yet, you were missing something. You shifted your hips slightly to the side as he bottomed out inside you. Suddenly, he hit a spongy spot inside of you and you saw stars, involuntarily letting out a loud moan. 

“Oh yeah, you like that?” Jake asked with a breathy laugh, hitting that spot repeatedly. 

The now slightly familiar knot in your stomach started to tighten again, harder and harder as Jake thrust in and out of you. 

“Please, baby,” you begged once more. This time, Jake didn’t need you to elaborate. He picked up the pace again, groaning with every movement that was bringing him closer to his own release. Your knot was on the brink of breaking apart and then, with one last thrust, it snapped and pleasure washed over you. 

You saw stars, the sound of Jake fucking you through your orgasm and flesh hitting flesh seeming so distant. It was only when his thrusts became more erratic that you regained your senses, managing to lift yourself up on your elbows to see his member disappearing in you. Jake lowered his forehead onto yours for a moment before lifting it off again. You looked up at him and captured his lips with yours right as Jake moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hips stilled against yours, trembling slightly against your skin as he emptied himself deep inside you.

He stayed inside you for a minute, trying to catch his breath. You fell back on the mattress and Jake lowered himself so his head rested on your chest, “Holy shit, honey,” he breathed and you laughed a little.

“Holy shit,” you agreed.

“How are you feeling? Are you hurt?” Jake asked, slipping out of you and kneeling between your legs. You shook your head. He climbed off of the bed, disappearing into the bathroom and returning a minute later with a wet flannel which he held against your core for a moment before starting to wipe off his spend, “Did you like it?” he added.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Can we go again?” you replied, having regained enough strength to prop yourself up on your hands.

Jake snorted, “Let a man recover first,” he said with a laugh, bringing one of his own hands to brush some hair off of your forehead, “Do you think you can shower?” 

You nodded, pushing yourself to sit upright. It felt a little sore but dissipated almost as soon as you stood upright. Jake gently pulled you to him, kissing you deeply, his chiselled chest pressing against you, letting you feel every bump of his muscles and every inch of smooth skin that was covered in ticklish blonde hair. 

“Mind if I join you in that shower?” He asked, the sound muffled by your lips.

“Thought you said no round two?” you teased

He hummed, “Changed my mind,” Jake said, taking your hand in his and dragging you to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, kissing you while the air around the two of you steamed up. Finally ripping himself away from your lips, he stepped in, checking the temperature before inviting you in. 

You pushed him against the shower wall and he hissed but didn’t move. One of your hands tangled itself in his hair, pulling his head gently to the side to give you access to his neck. You started behind his ear, peppering kisses down his jawline, neck and collarbone, trailing a finger of your free hand over his chest, gently grazing the skin with a nail. 

Your hand left his hair with one last little tug. As you let go of it, Jake let out a disappointed sound and you looked up to see him pout, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. Your hand wrapped around his cock once more, swiftly wiping the expression off of his face with a satisfied smirk on your part. 

Using the water from the shower to help, you glided your hand up and down his firm erection. Jake brought a hand up to cup the side of your face before he pulled you into a brutal kiss. Distracted by the intensity of his lips on yours, he quickly turned in the shower, pinning you to the cold wall. You let out a groan into his mouth at the feeling of your back pressed up against the cold tile. 

Jake’s hand found its way down to your clit. He flicked it a few times before running his fingers towards your entrance, scooping up some of the wetness there. 

“You’re so wet darlin’, that all for me?” he asked as he pushed one finger into you. 

You let out a moan, your body still sensitive from the first round, “Yes, only you.” 

Jake groaned into your neck, removing his fingers from you. He put his hands on the back of your thighs and you jumped. He picked you up, pinning you to the wall with his body weight. His kisses were becoming more frantic down your neck and your hands were trying to find some kind of purchase on his back. 

When you felt the tip of his dick slide against you, you let out a loud moan, “Jake.” 

He growled at the sound, “That’s it baby, tell this whole hotel who you belong to.” 

At his words you clenched around him, “You, Jake, oh.” 

He entered you in one swift motion, the pain from before not even a thought in your mind as your husband pounded you into the shower tiles, “God baby, you’re so good for me. Gonna put a baby in you, that what you want? A little girl just like you huh?”

His words coupled with his breakneck pace sent you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a brick wall, and you were shaking so hard it was a miracle that Jake hadn’t dropped you. Through your moans, you could hear him groan before you felt his hips stutter before he filled you with his load. 

Jake leaned more heavily against you, his face buried into your shoulder. As the water started to turn cold, he separated from you, not before pressing a kiss to your lips, “I’m sorry, that was kind of rough,” he said as he helped to soap you up with body wash. 

“I kind of liked it actually,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you ran your soapy hands up and down his hairy chest. 

Jake let out a laugh, “It’s always the good ones isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Lieutenant Commander Seresin, I believe it is the rakes that make the best husbands though,” you said in answer, rinsing the soap from your skin. 

Jake reached forward to turn off the water, and the two of you stepped out, him wrapping you up in a towel before getting his own, “Did you just call me a rake?”

“What of it?” you said coyly, making your way into the bedroom. Standing in front of your suitcase, you pulled out the cotton nightgown that you had bought for tonight, it wasn’t anything over the top, but it was white and rather short. 

Jake came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear, “I’m only a rake for you.” 

You let out a laugh, pushing him away from your lightly as you got dressed, “We should go to bed, and you need to get dressed.” 

Jake pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and sat down on the bed, “I’m dressed,” he said proudly, looking at you with a grin on his face. 

Laughing at him, you allowed him to pull you into bed, cradling you into his chest. He turned off the light before entwining your legs with his and wrapping you tightly in his arms. His head buried in your still wet hair. 

“How am I going to break the news to everyone?” you asked him, your eyes fluttering closed in the now dark room, the exhaustion of the day wearing on you. 

“What news?” he asked, his voice sounding sleepy already. 

“That The Hangman is a cuddler,” you said with a giggle. 

Jake snorted, “They won’t believe you, I’m too tough to be a snuggler.” 

“Whatever you say, Mr. Seresin,” you teased, snuggling back into his warmth more. 

“Goodnight Mrs. Seresin,” he replied, tucking you more firmly to his chest. 

You hummed, your body drifting towards sleep, “I love you,” was the last thing you heard before the exhaustion of the day overtook you. 

---- 

You woke up the next morning as the sun rose over Annapolis. It was a beautiful day, the birds sang, the sky was blue and the temperature was just right for drinking a lovely cup of coffee outside on the balcony. Checking the time, you relaxed when you realised that you still had several hours until your flight to Italy. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed feeling a little sore after the night before. It was a welcome feeling though, although you ought not to admit it, you had let your mind wander to your wedding night a fair few times before Jake even proposed. You had guiltily imagined what his chiselled muscles would feel like under your fingers, what his rock hard member would feel like inside you. You had craved him as much as he had craved you, and although you would never admit it to anyone but yourself, you had taken just as many cold showers as Jacob.

Your legs felt wobbly as you stood. Jake’s prowess in the bedroom had made you walk like Bambi taking his first steps. Still, you managed to make your way out of the bedroom and into the kitchenette where you removed coffee grounds from the cupboard in preparation for your breakfast plans. Before putting them inside the machine, you hooked up your phone to the speakers in the living room and started a playlist.

You started the coffee machine, its noise combined with the song Little White Church by Little Big Town drowned out the noise of your brand new husband coming out of the bedroom. You jumped when he spoke.

“Good morning, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake said in a gruff and groggy voice, snaking his arms around your waist as you poured the coffee into two mugs, “Did my beautiful wife sleep well?”

You gasped as one of Jake’s hands squeezed the soft flesh of your ass. It left for a second, only to return with a gentle spank, earning him a yelp. Jake giggled.

“She slept very well, waking up was a little harder though,” you replied. Jake hummed into your skin as he nuzzled into your neck, gently kissing and nibbling everything in reach, “Getting out of bed isn’t very easy on wobbly legs,” you giggled.

“There’s only one solution to that, ma’am, and that,” he suddenly swung an arm behind your knees, keeping one behind your shoulders to carry you bridal style, “is never leaving the bed at all,” he finished, carrying you back to the bedroom for a second round of what you had been doing the previous night. This philosophy carried you into the next two days, until you and Jake finally left for your honeymoon.

#hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman imagine #hangman smut #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun

[caroldantops]

lemonade stand (i)

ship: carol danvers/fem!reader

summary/request: a new kink leads to a new morning routine (part of lemonade stand, a series of unrelated piss drabbles)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (18+), dom!carol, sub!reader, piss play (omorashi (holding and wetting), golden shower (r receiving)), mutual masturbation, maybe a bit of a boot kink?

masterlist | ao3 link 

find the other lemonade stand drabbles on my series masterlist or on ao3!

“You know, I’m surprised how long you’ve lasted, baby,” Carol chuckles, shoving you less-than-gently to the floor. You gasp as the shift in position causes a sharp cramp to hit you, groaning and clutching your stomach. “Almost the whole day without an accident. Though, you’ve definitely been whining too much for my liking.”

“Can’t help it,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together in your curled-up position on the floor. Carol just laughs at your feeble attempts at maintaining control.

She comes into view as you’re rolled over on your back, and you yelp as your thighs are yanked apart. The sudden manhandling makes your control wane, allowing for a couple of drops to leak from between your legs. The only thing protecting the hardwood floor beneath you from your bladder is your cotton panties that now host a small wet patch.

“Captain, please. I can’t hold much longer.”

Carol kneels down, gripping your face in her strong hands that make your mouth water. She regards you for a moment, scanning your desperate eyes with that stupid fucking smirk on her face.

“Five more minutes,” Carol finally says, releasing your face and standing up straight again. “If you can hold it for five more minutes, you can cum tonight.”

You nod desperately, needing both aches that have been building between your thighs all day to be relieved. Five minutes was nothing compared to when you were pressing your thighs together as you drove home.

Or, so you thought.

You were foolish to think Carol would make this easy for you. Those huge chunky boots that she and you both adore so much, the ones that are loud on every single surface Carol treads on, exuding that classic Carol Danvers Couldn’t-Give-A-Shit-What-You-Think Attitude, are now your mortal enemy. Carol presses one boot against your stomach, not putting enough pressure to hurt you, but certainly making your bladder scream.

“C-captain, no,” you whine, feeling another few drops dampen your underwear as Carol makes it almost impossible to hold it. “Please, please. I can’t do it.”

“Aw, are you gonna cry, baby?” Carol fake pouts as she pushes down a little harder on your tummy. You groan and shake your head, but your sniffles of embarrassment betray you. All of your concentration has to go towards not wetting yourself, but Carol cooing at you is causing your brain to short circuit. Another small gush between your legs does not go unnoticed by your Captain. “Hm, that doesn’t look like holding it to me.”

“I’m trying. It’s too hard.”

“Poor thing. Can’t even hold their own piss for five extra minutes?” Carol shakes her head. You gasp with relief as her boot is removed from your stomach, hoping that the torture is over.

Wrong again.

(You really never learn, do you?)

Carol crouches down next to you and kisses your sweat-ridden forehead gently, making you hum before another sharp gasp is ripped from your lungs. Her lithe fingers press on your stomach even harder than her boot was.

The distraction from her tender kiss combined with the returned pressure makes you lose it. You moan with relief as you flood your underwear. It’s only milliseconds before there’s a puddle forming under you, piss starting to dampen your thighs. Carol hushes your pathetic little noises softly, kissing your face again and rubbing your tummy soothingly.

“You almost made it, baby. Even closer than last time! I’m very proud of you.”

“Does you being proud of me mean…”

“No, it does not mean you’re going to cum tonight,” Carol answers. You huff.

“But I’m so wet,” you whine high in your throat, hoping to tease Carol enough that she’ll give in.

“Isn’t that your own fault?” Carol raises an eyebrow, running her fingers over your soaked panties. You try to grind against her, but the digits are gone before you can. “Tomorrow, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, come on. We have to clean you up.”

---

“Babe.”

“Mmph.”

A finger prods your face.

“Baby, wake up.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?” You open one eye to glare at your girlfriend who’s looking at you with eager eyes. God, you don’t know how she’s so awake in the mornings. You do enjoy the view of her in the morning light though, so it has some benefits.

“So you can come shower with me before I have to leave,” her already raspier morning voice drops lower as she leaves kisses along your shoulder.

How are you supposed to resist that?

The hot water streams over both of you as you kiss. For once, you have Carol pressed against the wall, skimming your hands over her damp skin as she nips your lower lip.

“You still wanna cum?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately. Carol laughs at how easily you went from being annoyed with her for waking you to her eager baby again.

“On your knees, and spread your thighs so I can see that pretty cunt.” You obey, hands twitching because you have a feeling that you know what’s coming. Carol’s talked about this little fantasy of hers recently, since the two of you discovered this new piss kink of yours was mutual. “Good girl. Did you pee after you woke up?”

“No.”

“Me either,” Carol says, leaning her upper body against the tile wall, and positioning herself so that her hips are thrust toward you kneeling between her legs. She starts circling her clit, and your mouth waters at the view of her glistening pussy. “I want you to go with me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

You thought that it would take you a minute to get your bladder going, but the moment that you hear Carol sigh and see her stream start trickling between her legs, you feel yourself twitch with desperation. Carol angles herself a little better and starts pissing with earnest, strong enough to finally make contact with your body. You both moan as Carol’s piss drips down your body, and you finally start peeing as well.

“Touch yourself, baby. Fuck, you like that don’t you?” Carol groans, panting and rubbing her clit harder, splashing liquid over your already wet bodies. You match her pace, grinding against your hand that becomes immediately soaked. “You like when I piss on you, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes, I love it,” you cry, desperately humping your hand as Carol empties her bladder over you, heavy stream becoming a small trickle.

“Fucking hell,” Carol throws her head back, hitting the wall behind her. “Cum with me baby.”

Both of you shudder with your climaxes, panting and riding out your highs as the forgotten shower keeps running. Carol pulls you up, crashing your lips together. You moan into each other’s mouths, pressing your foreheads together when you break apart. A wave of embarrassment of what just happened suddenly hits the both of you, and neither of you can help laughing.

“You know, that’s not exactly the type of shower I was expecting when you woke me up,” you giggle, pressing your face against Carol’s neck. You can feel her own laughter in her chest pressed against yours.

“Was it a good surprise at least?”

“Mhm, I think we could definitely work more showers into our morning routine.”

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers smut #marvel imagine #piss play #c: carol #smut #fic #silver writes #hahahahahaha no one look at me

[silversatoru]

Hi love! ❤️

Mkay so like.... Suguru walks in and finds out his gf has a cam acc- and just like straight up ruins her online

This has been on my mind all day but idfk how to write it

a/n: AHAH hey babe!!! this concept is 😌👌 so i hope i did you proud w this. also if ur really into the whole getting-ruined-online concept and you fuck w dabi may i recommended @katslutski ‘s smile for the camera series; it is one of my favs

getou suguru x f!reader

tags/warnings: masturbation, degradation, humiliation, dumbification, filming, facial, mild bondage, mild overstimulation

w/c: 1.4k

you rubbed your clit in rushed circles, projecting a cluster of fake high-pitched moans and arching your back for the camera. it really didn’t feel that great, but you were damn good at pretending it did — and the cash was flowing in as a result. 

you could see the notifications of donations and new patrons popping up on the side of your screen and you let a soft sigh of satisfaction leave your lips. these fuckers were so horny that they’d send you stacks of their income just to see you fondle your cunt — pigs.

between the blood rushing to your ears from your approaching orgasm and the soft music playing through you room you didn’t even notice the sound of your front door opening. you were completely unaware of your boyfriend’s presence in your home until he was standing in your bedroom doorway — a confused but amused expression across his face. 

“am i interrupting something?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. 

“suguru! i thought you were busy today, i-” you scrambled to explain yourself and grab a sheet from your bed to pull over your exposed body. 

“plans changed,” he shrugged and cut you off, entering your bedroom, “maybe you should start locking your front door when you’re doing shit like this”. 

you stared at him with horrified eyes, worried that he might break up with you for this kind of thing — he didn’t seem mad but he definitely wasn’t happy either. you quickly lunged for your laptop/camera set-up, attempting to end your livestream, but suguru moved quicker. he grasped your wrist in his strong fingers and looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“leave it on, doll,” he purred at you, releasing your wrist and pushing you back towards the bed, “go ahead and finish the show for them”. 

completely stunned, you fell back onto your elbows and gave him a hesitant look. it’s not like you were embarrassed or anything— shit, you did this like every day, but you were severely confused by his reaction.

he nodded at the computer screen with hazy eyes, “they’re waiting. why are you so shy all of the sudden? you should be used to having an audience”. 

after a final moment of hesitation you leaned back, fingers returning down to your clit to resume where you’d left off. it was a little more awkward with suguru watching, but the way he was ordering you around was kind of hot, so your stiffness quickly faded.

and you knew your body well, what worked and what didn’t, so it was only a matter of minutes before you were rocking your hips into your hand and letting exaggerated whimpers slide between your teeth. the orgasm was mediocre at best, but you had to dress it up and wrap it in a bow for your precious patrons.

at some point during your little show suguru had rid himself of his clothing and was now climbing into the messy sheets with you. 

“let me see your hands,” he stated blankly, his fingers gripped around the belt that had been looped through his pants just a few minutes ago. 

“this is live you know,” you gave him a concerned look — you were confused but not opposed, holding your hands out behind your back.

“oh, i know,” he took care in gently wrapping your wrists together as tight as the belt would go and then helped you onto you knees.

the duskiness of his eyes filled you with a splendid mix of fear and excitement, but before you could even get a good look you were being shoved into the bed.

“put your face in the pillows, doll,” he ordered lazily as you faceplanted into one of the several pillows at the head of your bed.

his strong hands were quickly gripped around your hips, the tip of his rock-hard member brushing teasingly against your entrance. you were already practically dripping, the sticky liquids from your earlier orgasm still glistening around your edges. it made his access easy, his aching cock sliding with little effort.

“let’s show all of your fans how much of a dumb cock-whore you become when i’m inside you,” he thrusted using hard, firm strokes right from the start.

and of course he was absolutely right — you lost any inkling of a coherent thought once you were stuffed full with his length. you moaned, whimpered, and squirmed underneath him like the pathetic little cam girl you were. but with suguru, none of your performance was a façade — he truly knew how to make you melt under his touch. and melted and useless was exactly how he liked you, so he had every intention of fucking you dumb in front of your audience today.

and that’s exactly what he did. it was his own foul way of punishing you; turning you into a drooling cum-slut who had completely forgotten she was being broadcasted live. if you wanted to be a whore for a living, he’d show everyone just how much of a whore you were — but only for him. 

you’re not even sure how long it’s been — all you know is that you’re orgasming for the fourth time; or was it the fifth? sixth? you’d lost count somewhere along the way.

dull waves of pleasure racked through your body and sent quivers under your skin. you whined and wriggled, murmuring incoherent babbles as you rocked your hips back and forth on his cock to milk the most out of your climax.

“that’s five times, baby,” suguru’s voice sounded miles away, “my dick feels good inside you, doesn’t it?”

you thrashed your head up and down against the pillow, mumbling the word yes over and over as your body twitched from overstimulation. glistening mixtures of fluids were squelching out as he continued thrusting into your cunt, some dripping all the way down your legs.

and he didn’t let you take any breaks — nonstop fucking you even while your pussy was throbbing with sensitivity. the overstimulation was excruciating, and you were a complete mess of trembles and whimpers.

“so pitiful,” you heard a dark laugh rumble from his throat, “there’s thousands and thousands of people watching you be my disgusting little fuck-toy right now, and you’re just gonna keep taking it, aren’t you?”

you weren’t even sure what he was saying, honestly. your brain had short circuited a while ago, and you were just absent mindedly nodding your head and mumbling agreements to everything he said. the pillowcase beneath your head was nearly soaked in saliva now too, your feeble mouth hanging open while drool continued to seep from the corners of your lips. 

“i think i want you to finish me with your mouth, doll, how does that sound?” he slowed his pace, pushing lazy thrusts into your hips while you mindlessly nodded your head again. 

“pathetic little baby; you have no idea what i’m even saying to you right now, do you?” you heard suguru laughing from behind you; but all you could manage in response was a few scattered whimpers. 

he abruptly unsheathed himself from inside you, and strangled whines escaped your throat at his sudden absence. no! more, please, please, suguru please, you murmured with an embarrassing lack of control and your boyfriend couldn’t do anything but laugh at you in your shameful state.

“turn around and open those pretty lips,” he reached down and helped you to flip over before straddling your chest and pressing his hot, sticky member against your lips. 

you opened them graciously, too braindead to even notice the bitter taste of his precum mixed with your own fluids. he mouth-fucked you with obscene force, the walls of your throat painfully expanding every time he thrusted in. you choked and sputtered, drool leaking down your lips and all over your chin. 

when suguru’s own orgasm was right on the cusp he removed himself from your mouth and sprayed his seed all over your face. from your forehead to your chest you were coated in sticky globs of semen, and you sucked down the drips that made it into your mouth like they were liquid gold. 

“lets see how many of your precious viewers come back after this — now that they saw you disintegrate into the helpless little cum slut that you are, now that they know you’re mine”. 

#getou suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou #getou smut #getou suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #smut #geto suguru #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

[genshinboys]

Going out on a date with Genshin boys - Kaeya

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Kaeya x gn reader

„You’re late.” You shoot Kaeya an ice-cold look as he enters Angel’s Share and leans in, to peck your cheek. 

He pushes the chair back and sits down, casually letting his hand wander under the table to squeeze your thigh, and a smirk replaces his broad smile as he winks at you.

„Good things come with time, don’t they, Baby?”

Smooth motherfucker. Somehow, the cocky Knight of Favonious always comes up with the most appropriate of comebacks on a whim.

„Tsk.” You roll your eyes in annoyance but Kaeya knows better than that, and notices the corner of your mouth subtly quirking upwards, which you promptly attempt to hide from your sneaky boyfriend. 

He scoops you closer, his arm clinging to your waist.

„My poor girl/boy. You must have been awfully bored without me.” Kaeya sing-songs right next to your ear. His hot breath fanning over your scarlet cheeks. 

„Diluc kept me company,” you mutter quietly, body stiff in his arms.

„Exactly.” 

You almost spew your wine, shoulders shaking so hard as you nudge Kaeya’s chest, trying not to piss your pants. He’s laughing too, silently relieved that the frown on your face is long gone and forgotten. 

„He’s going to hear you, dummy.” Your eyes crinkle and voice grows bubbly as you hold your sides writhing in Kaeya’s tight clutch.

The captain shrugs his shoulders indifferently and presses his lips to yours. Your pupils dilate and heart races in your chest once Kaeya delves his tongue into your mouth. Suddenly, all you can smell is him and it does funny things to your stomach. When your lips part, Kaeya looks at you through half-lidded eyes. Blood boils under your skin.

„So, aside from stealing my breath away, what else would you like to do tonight, Baby?”

Oh lord. 

Dates with Kaeya are always casual. Sipping wine in the tavern or a stroll around Mondstadt during his lunchtime. With the golden mouth of his, the cavalry captain can turn any activity into a date. One that you would find yourself looking forward to, as well.

So, it should come as no surprise that you’re now pressed to the wall with Kaeya’s breath lingering on your flushed face. His hands slide down the stoney surface, and he places them on each side of your head.

„Kaeya, what do you think you’re doing?” You blink rapidly at the man invading your personal space.

„Sheltering you from rain, of course” 

Isn’t that obvious, though? You got caught in the rain on the way back from the tavern. Kaeya, being the gentleman he is, suggested waiting for it to ease off and hide under the tree in one of the back alleys of Mondstadt. It’s long past midnight and the streets are mostly empty. His face looks even more attractive illuminated by the moonlight. 

Kaeya’s lips softly hover over your collarbones and it makes you shiver when he presses a feather-like kiss to the protruding bone. He chuckles and immediately repeats the action. Your brain short-circuits as the captain continues placing a kiss after a kiss on the exposed skin. His long lashes flutter seductively when he glances up to admire your face.

„Is that not to your liking, Kitten? If you want me to stop you better tell me that now.” He warns, sneakily hooking his arm around your waist.

„Nu-uh.” Not the most articulate of answers, indeed, but you’re too busy stifling a moan when Kaeya pushes his thigh between your legs. Desire glows in his eyes when your hips buck forward on instinct. 

„What a good little girl/boy you are, huh?” His breath dancing on your skin when his face gets closer to yours. Kaeya traps your lower lip between his teeth and nibbles on it delicately, eliciting a soft gasp from you. He loosens his grip around your waist and lets his hand travel lower, to your ass. He squeezes it harshly and guides you on his thigh. Your core flush against Kaeya’s thick leg. Little shivers of panic and pleasure shoot through you as he encourages you to rub on his clothed skin. He repeatedly squeezes your ass cheeks to make you start moving. Once he hikes up his leg, you’re thoroughly gone. 

„Oh, n-noo! I can’t!” A cry of protest leaves your lips but your body betrays you as you thrust forward, wantonly rubbing on Kaeya’s thigh. 

„Oh, Kitten,” Kaeya’s gaze lowers to your crotch and he smiles smugly, „Your face gets all red each time you lie to me.” He begins moving his pelvis in unison with you, the non-existent distance applying even more pressure to your sex when it slides up and down the captain’s thigh. The rush of sensations overcoming your body is overbearing.

„I want to feel you properly.” To your astonishment, Kaeya removes his leg with a quizzical smirk on his lips. His fingers hook around the waistband of your shorts and he yanks them down together with your underwear. You’re almost swept off your feet when Kaeya once again forces his thigh between your legs. There is a sound from the back of his throat, a fervent growl that goes straight to your groin. If it wasn’t for his tight grip, your legs would surely give out. With his hard-on pressed to your trembling thigh, the captain begins rocking your bodies, back and forth. Your chest is heaving, erratically going up and down as you try to breathe. Moans falling from your lips, one more desperate from another while Kaeya circles his hips in a rhythmic motion. Having forsaken the last shred of decency, you press yourself against his thigh, digging your nails into his back. He shudders, equally lost in the raw sensations of your bodies so shamelessly dry-humping out there in the open.

„Cum with me, please.” You’re dazed. Suddenly, your chest feels even heavier than before. When Kaeya fixes his gaze on you, there is only feeling and need. No traces of cockiness and his usual overconfident attitude left. Pure longing radiating from the tender movement of his lips against yours. These intense emotions leave you both aching for each other, the rest is of no importance. The drops of rain no longer bounce back against the green leaves above your head. The sky is serene again.

He groans, low in his throat when you push back eagerly, over and over again, so that he feels his erection twitching with each roll of your hips. The build-up tension in your lower belly drives you to go hard, relentlessly fucking yourself on your boyfriend. Kaeya’s sturdy body shaking just like yours, the trails of fire budding inside of him overtaking his whole being. The captain’s sweaty palm finds purchase on yours, and with the last snap of his hips, both of you reach your peak. For a brief moment, there is absolutely nothing you can hear or see, it’s like the calm after the storm. Kaeya’s soft „I love you's” whispered into your neck bring back your clarity. 

„Well, at least we didn’t get wet, right Captain Kaeya?”

His eyes glance down to your lower region, mouth curving into a smile.

„Are you sure about that, Baby?”

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Zhongli

Childe

Xiao

Kazuha

Other series:

Thigh job with Genshin boys

#kaeya headcanons #genshin headcanons #kaeya smut #kaeya scenarios #kaeya reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya you #kaeya x you #kaeya drabbles #kaeya imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact #kaeya genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines

[babbushka]

Centerfold

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

4k; N S F W (oral sex, come marking, come eating, thigh riding, photography during sex, porny pervy photos, whipped cream) 

Also available on AO3!

[part of the Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Prompt series, letters C&D]

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

It’s late, real late when he comes home. So late that it’s a little too dark to read the clock face in the hall, but that’s alright. You knew it would be, when you spoke to him on the phone during his lunch break. Flip had been up to his eyes trying to connect dots and draw strings for the case, so you planned accordingly. You timed dinner perfectly; the oven dinged right as you heard the lock on the front door click open, as the familiar smell of your man’s cigarette smoke wafted into the kitchen before he did.

You can’t help a little grin spread across your face, can’t help your heart from fluttering just the smallest bit at the sound of his heavy boots. You had some candles lit around the living room, more for ambiance than light. No, the large fireplace was steadily crackling and filling the room with a warm glow, one that you hoped would put Flip in the mood.

Dinner needed some time to rest, to cool a little bit so it wouldn’t burn your tongues. You bit your lip, smiled around the thought of just where and how you wanted Flip’s tongue in the meantime.

“Welcome home honey!” You call out to him, taking off your apron and shaking your hair out as you leave the kitchen and greet him in the foyer. He’s hanging up his coat in the little closet by the door, and you don’t hesitate before wrapping your arms around his big middle, smiling up at him. “It was a little chilly out today, why don’t you come sit with me next to the fire?”

“What’s all this, ketsl?” Flip smiles down at you, just a little quirk of his lips around his cigarette. His eyes are so warm, so brown. He nods in the direction of the living room, gesturing to all the candles and the record player that’s softly playing.

“I thought tonight we could have some fun.” You smooth your hands up his chest, feeling how firm and strong his muscles are. He hums out happily as you loop your arms around his neck, kiss him slow slow slow while you whisper, “Unwind a bit, put on some music, have a little sex. You know.”

He exhales then, thick clouds of grey-blue smoke that wind around your bodies. He can tell you’re not wearing anything underneath that robe of yours with the way that the fabric slips away from your breasts a little too revealingly, and his jaw clenches for it.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re trouble?” He says low, dangerous, hungry.

Good, you think, you love when your man comes home with an appetite.

“Me? What’d I ever do?” You tease, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the foyer and into the living room.

He goes easily, happily. He looks tired, but that’s alright, you’ll let him sleep after you have your fun. You can already see the line of his dick pressing into his jeans, and that alone has your thighs rubbing together, has you wanting to get fucked.

He follows you, katchkaleh hot on your heels, and he stands behind you in the living room, your toes cushioned on the plush shag carpet.

“Mmm you’re just,” He pulls some of your hair away from your neck and face, tipping your head to the side so he can press hot open mouthed kisses to the skin there, can taste the beat of your pulse. “So so beautiful. I thought of you at work today, all day.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me what you thought about.” You encourage, taking the cigarette away from him and holding it between your fingers so that he can get both his hands on you.

They massage your breasts for a minute before sliding down down down your body, parting the fabric of your robe. You’re not wearing panties and he groans, lets his huge hand wedge between your inner thighs, feeling the heat of you, the wetness of you, the want of you.

“Your sweet pussy mostly.” He replies, voice deep and heady, “Was hopin’ to come home to see you naked, had to go jerk off in the back about it.”

Your body tingles all over at the thought, at his admission. He continues to kiss and suck on your neck, places bruises there over old bruises he left you that morning. The sting of pain makes your stomach clench in the best way, and your eyes slip closed as you feel him grind his cock against your ass.

“Did you take one of the pictures back with you? Did you jerk off and come all over the polaroids?” You asked, and he sucked in a deep breath.

That was one of his biggest dirty secrets, those pictures. Polaroids and 35mm stills he takes of you, asks you to pose for, jerks off over whenever he can’t jerk off over you. 

Late nights on a stakeout all alone, later nights sitting in the empty station had him browsing his collection of homemade pornography, amateur photos of you that have him spilling all over his fist in ten minutes flat.

“Yeah, fuck baby I did. But…” He groans just thinking about how often he sneaks looks at them, how they’re hidden in a false drawer in his desk, in a little tin container in the glovebox.

“But what?” You prompt, putting your hands over his and guiding one back up to your tits so he can pinch and squeeze at your nipples.

“The pictures are gorgeous, your body is just fuckin’ rocking, but I think it might be time to take some new ones.” You can feel it when he licks his lips, tongue brushing your cheek as he kisses you, “My cock’s so hard for you baby.”

You chuckle a little then, turn in his embrace so you can face him, so you can see how dark his eyes have gotten for you, how big those pupils have blown with lust.

“How do you want me?” You ask, letting the robe slip away from your body and pool around your ankles.

He’s entranced with you, with the way the fireplace crackles softly, the way the glow from the soft flames lick up your body.

He wants to lick up your body.

“However you want, just…” He doesn’t know where to look, so he looks everywhere. Doesn’t know where to touch, so he touches everywhere too. “Just let me come all over you when we’re done?”

“Oh, it’s going to be like that is it?” You grin, sinking down to your knees, unbuttoning his flannel on your way, “Want to see me covered in it?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, takes the cigarette back from you, sucks down the nicotine to give him some edge, some bit of control. Tonight is going to be long, going to be slow. He wants to take his time with you, has plans for you.

Plans that short circuit in his brain when you sit back on your heels and pull his cock out of his jeans, giving it a good steady stroke.

“Want to see me lick it up?” You bring your lips to his shaft and kiss it, little kisses on the vein which throbs up to the head. You tongue the slit and he pushes his hips in your face, smokes and smokes and smokes some more.

“Fuck – ” He fists your hair and yanks your head back just the littlest bit, just so that the fat head of his cock rests heavy on your tongue, drool already wanting to slide down your chin. He pulls you off of him ever so gently, and bends down until he’s on his knees too, until he’s caging your body underneath his with a breathy, “Please.”

You grin and lay back on the carpeting near the fireplace, already settling, already getting ready for a good fucking. Your knees part and he moans in the back of his throat for the way he rubs his dick through your folds, not quite pushing in, not just yet.

“You’re big.” You hum, tapping out a little rhythm onto his shoulders, your body moving to the beat of the sexy record you had softly playing in the background. “I like when you cover me.”

“Makes kissing you a bitch though.” He grumbles as he has to hunch himself down to meet your lips.

“Kiss me a little before fucking me then, get your fix.” You push his shoulders down so your faces are level with one another, eyes closing again to simply surrender yourself to the incredible feeling of your husband around you. “Let me get my fix of you.”

He hums into your mouth, kisses you slowly. One of his hands cups your neck, caresses your head. His hands are so fucking big, the way they span nearly the whole half of your face, the way they’re so warm. Your noses bump together as you breathe in time, as you suck the breath straight from his lungs, bitter and so so good.

Your bodies move together, sweat together ever so slightly. Being by the fire has you warmed up, being near Flip has you burning up. His jeans chafe your calves a little but you only moan for it, moan for him. He sucks on your tongue and you bite at his lips, your hands squeezing him, holding him close.

“You taste good.” Flip kisses you, licks across your teeth, “Like strawberries.”

“I made shortcake for dessert, thought I might spray whipped cream all over, have you lick me up.” You explain, and he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and groans loudly.

“Oh fuck – fuck that’s – yes we should do that.” He says immediately, stumbles over your words as his dick rubs against your legs, makes him whine.

“Okay, okay but fuck me first, I’m gonna lose it if I don’t get your cock in me.” You laugh at how eager he is, joy bubbling up in your chest. You’re love-drunk for him, for Flip, and it makes your pussy wet that he’s the same.

You shove your hands under the waistband of his jeans then, and he gets the hint. Standing up for just as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and socks, he lays on top of you nice and naked, as nude as you. He kisses you as he lines himself up, your legs parting for him, giving him room to shove himself into your space, into you.

“Ohh fuck ketsl.” He breathes out, face buried into your cheek.

That first hard thrust has you melting underneath him, has you wanting to do nothing but starfish out and be the pillow-princess you were. But he starts slow, a rolling buildup of pleasure that soon has you craving more.

You can tell he’s holding back, but you don’t want him to. You don’t, you want to hear the slap of his balls against your ass, want to hiccup out moans and sobs for his cock.

“Honey you can go faster.” You encourage, and he groans in appreciation, bites and suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sinks his teeth right into you.

“God I’m gonna come so hard, and then I’m gonna eat some of this delicious fuckin’ dinner you cooked up and I’m gonna fuck you again and come in you again.” The faster his hips go, the more inclined he is to talk, and soon he’s rocking into you hard and rough, he’s scrambling to get your legs every which way.

“My pussy’s been so empty all day, fill me up!” You toss your head back and accept the pounding for everything it was, let yourself go boneless, relaxing for him so he can thrust in deeper, his cock feeling like it’s a mile long inside your body.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” Flip asks around gulps of air as he brings your ankle over his shoulder.

“No I – oh fuck! – I waited, wanted to wait for you.” You answer honestly, smiling around a gasp for how he looks so fucking horny about that.

“You’re good to me, such a good girl – my good fucking girl fuck your cunt’s tight.” He grits, and you laugh, laugh before you’re moaning too loud to do anything other than hold on.

“I – I – oh yeah, yeah honey.” You drip praise from your tongue the way sweat from the ends of his feathered hair drips onto your tits.

He fucks you there by the fireplace for a while, every so often rearranging your legs, your bodies, your guts, so that he can get in deeper. He feels incredible, his big dick splitting you in half, the friction blazing the walls of your pussy, throbbing inside you.

He alternates between fucking you on your back, and rolling you onto your hands and knees, onto your side, pulling you onto his lap. He wants you every which way, wants you deep deep deep. You wind up back on your back, because he hates not looking at you, hates not seeing your face.

He’s working hard to fuck you right, and you yelp out in pleasure when he pinches your clit, nibbling on your ear as your body trembles underneath him.

“Flip! Flip I’m – harder please, fuck me harder!” You beg, a hand so tight in his hair, the other smacking his chest.

“I can feel it oh fuck I can feel how close you are,” He bites hard against your jaw, sloppy, so wet, tongue and lips swollen as your chest heaves. “Squeezing me so tight, don’t worry ketsl I’m not letting you go.”

“Oh I missed you yesyesyes -- !” Your back arches up as he spits into his hand and spreads his fingers through your folds, presses down on where his cock pistons fast into your pussy.

“Should’ve come to the – Christ – station, I would’ve fucked you hard, fucked you right in front of everyone, make them watch you come on my cock.” He’s babbling, not really meaning the shit he’s saying – but it’s sexy to think about it, to think about everyone looking at you on display, listening to the sounds you’re making right now.

“Phil!” You shout out his name, and he doesn’t pull his hand away, doesn’t stop fucking you. “Phil I’m – !”

You shout out a strangled cry then, because fuck oh how your orgasm crashes through you, how your body shudders and jolts under him, how your brain goes hazy and foggy with pleasure. Stars and spots dance across your vision as the world moves in slow motion, shocks rippling down your spine, curling your toes.

“I’m right here.” He pants, fucking you through it, cock dragging through your gushing cunt as he tries to get you to scream, “Come on honey I’m right here.”

He spits into your mouth hard, and you swallow it, swallow it like your cunt swallows his cock, even as it throbs and pulses around him, coating his dick is so much come, the wet slide loud in the quiet of the living room.

“I’m gonna come.” Flip groans then suddenly, the feeling too much, tipping him over.

“In me or on me?” You ask all dreamy-like, slowly slowly coming back to reality.

“Yes.” He grunts.

“No!” You laugh and playfully swat at his side as his hips take advantage of you going rag-doll limp under him, aftershocks still shivering through your thighs. “No you have to pick, the pictures, remember?”

“Ugh fuck, ketsl -- can’t – I can’t – ” He’s too wound up, so close, his stomach tensing, balls tight, panting in your ear and trying to kiss your cheek, your neck, but only getting as far as moaning against your throat.

“Come in me a little and then pull out?” You suggest, and he seems to like that idea because soon he’s cursing loud in your ear, punching his fist against the shag from the feeling as his hips push you so hard that your body chafes against the carpeting.

He never comes as loudly as you do, but he does cry out your name as he rolls his hips against yours for a minute. He could stay in there forever, inside your pussy. He knows it, you know it, and on any other evening you’d be content to let him fill you to the brim with it, but this was a special night.

“Close your eyes, be careful.” Flip mumbles as he winces, pulling his cock out of you and moving as quickly as his jelly body can handle to let hot ropes of come splatter all over your face.

He loves to come on your tits, and some accidentally gets on there anyway, but there’s something extra dirty about the way it clings to your nose, your mouth, your cheek. It’s so hot and you resist the urge to lick your lips, not until he says, not until he’s got the camera.

He kneels over your chest and tugs at his cock, milks himself for any last droplet of come that he can, before sighing, exhausted. He still hadn’t eaten, and you almost want to bring this up to him, but he’s looking at you still with such a deep dark desire, that you don’t want to interrupt him.

“Stay like that, right like that.” He says eventually, the two of you giggling in the post-orgasm bliss, as he tries to stand up on wobbly knees.

“Mmm’kay.” You hum, let your fingers swirl around the come that slid down your chin and dripped into the pit of your throat.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear Flip come back with a camera, can hear him checking the shutter, checking to see it’s loaded up with film. When he comes back, he’s laying down between your legs again, kissing your calves.

“Spread your legs,” He swallows hard as he raises the camera up to his eye, his big hands holding it steady, “Push my come back in your pussy, let me see it drink it up.”

You grin, bite the inside of your cheek as you lift a pleasure-weak hand to down between your legs, feel for the thick come that’s started to ooze out of you. You’re impressed with how much he came in you before pulling out – but then again you’re not surprised. Flip always had a big load.

“Like that?” You ask breathlessly as you can hear him taking photo after photo.

“Just like that honey-bunny, finger yourself with it.” His baritone ghosts your pussy and it clenches from the warmth of his breath, clenches around your fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this ketsl, you got somethin’ you want to tell me? You one of them playboy bunnies while I’m at work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Hef’s number right up here.” You moan as your fingers slide through your folds, sopping wet from your own come. He snaps another photo of it mixing, mingling there inside of you.

“I oughta kick his ass, seeing you like this. No one gets to see you like this but me.” Flip puts the camera down for a second to kiss the inside of your knee.

He smacks a kiss to the other one, before crawling up your body, taking photos along the way.

“And the poor guy over at the fotomart.” Your arms stretch over your head, pushing your tits out for him and his camera.

“He’s seen worse,” Flip leans down to suck your nipples into his mouth one at a time, getting them stiff in the firelight, smacking them to get them flushed before he takes his photos, “And I promise he ain’t poor for it.”

“Oh here – get this one.” You say as you pinch your nipples for him, hold them and tug on them while his mouth waters through the lens. His stomach growls then, and you both have a little laugh about it when you suddenly remember, “Go get the whipped cream?”

“Yeah, just – some lick up my come some more first.” He pinches your nose and gives your face an affectionate shake.

“Okay, do you – Phil!” You grin against his lips as he tackles you then, camera put down carefully as he rolls you on top of him, kisses you all over.

“Sorry, you’re just so pretty.” He says as an explanation, and you roll your eyes at how much you adore him and his sex-blotchy, reddened face.

“You go get the fuckin’ whipped cream, it’s in the door.” You push yourself off of him, settling onto your stomach.

He grumbles and groans loudly, dramatically, before getting up and leaving the living room with a smile.

“Nice ass!” You shout after him, and you can hear the deep rumble of his chuckle from all the way there.

 When he comes back a minute or two later with the redid-whip icey cold from the fridge, he’s already aching for you all over again.

“Come take a seat on my thigh, let me get close to you ketsl.” Flip sits cross-legged on the carpet. You notice he’s grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from the laundry basket and you shake your head. He always did complain that the carpet itched.

He hands you the cannister, pops the top off and you immediately get to work while he fumbles with his camera. You can’t help yourself, you slowly grind your hips against his thigh, slowly working yourself up. His muscles shine with your slick but he’s not looking, he doesn’t look anywhere other than you.

“Oh Flip,” You sigh as you take a hold of it properly, rubbing your cheek all over it, “It’s so big, just like your cock.”

“What’s bigger?” He chews on his cheek, snaps some photos.

“Your cock is -- your cock is way bigger, I can barely fit my hands around it.” You say, shaking the whipped cream, getting it really aerated in the cannister, getting it all mixed up just the way the man on the commercial told you. You wondered if he knew how many people used those directions for their own pleasure?

“Shake it up faster baby, let me see you sweat.” He says evenly, and you can feel his cock hardening through his underwear for you again.

“Oh,” You moan as you ride his thigh, as you let your tits bounce from the speed which you shake up the can, “Oh Flip, I – I think it’s gonna blow.”

He nods, and you tilt the nozzle to let ribbons of the sweet cream coat your chest and face, a cartoonish comeshot captured on film. You spray the cream and ride his thigh, and he shoves a hand into your pussy to get you off again, making you fall forward a little just from the sensitivity of it all.

You come around a mouthful of whipped cream, and Flip puts the camera down so he can get both his hands on you properly, holds you close. He gets sticky with the whipped cream too, but he doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re too good to me.” He whispers against your cleavage where he’s licking up the whipped cream, not wanting any of it to go to waste.

“I like that you like looking at me.” You hum, carding a hand through his hair while he breathes you in, cleans you up. “I like that you don’t use those magazines.”

You had nothing against the magazines, but there was definitely something special about being the only one he wanted, about being the only woman who got him off.

“Why should I, when I’ve got my very own centerfold right here?” He looks up at you from between your tits, whipped cream all in his goatee.

You sweetly tug on his ear, before asking for a shower. He goes happily, so handsome under the warm spray.

And then like as if it were every other night, you find yourselves smiling at one another behind glasses of water and Coors, sitting in your pajamas at the table with a perfectly heated dinner. You didn’t care that it was late, not really.

Not when you and your man were so good about building up an appetite.

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

Tagging some pals :)  @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #flip/reader #flip/you #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman reader insert #blackkklansman #my writing

[cdarkheartzero]

Today’s theme-

“Diary of a security guard part 4- “His own legs”

Data log entry 6553

I barely even started my shift before I got the news. Three smeets had disappeared at some point during the night and -OF COARSE- the little shit was one of them.

Receiving the names of Zim and Skoodge wasn’t surprising. Those two were always together and up to something but I was shocked when the keeper said “Smeet Tak”. TAK? She was usually fairly well behaved. Few fights here and there, sure but this? Especially because she hates Zim. Why would she join them? At least that’s what I hoped for anyway.

Since the “snack heist” episode, I assumed the boys were off to find another “treasure chest” of pure sugar so I figured I would check the pantries first. They weren’t stupid enough to do the same closet twice in a row but I would bet my monies that’s where they were.

[[MORE]]

Stumbled down the halls when I noticed a door slightly left ajar. Yup. There they were. As I approached I could hear a conversation being had between Tak and Zim. GOOD. I can grab them all at once. I slowly opened the door juuuust enough to squeeze my body through and crept in behind boxes , eyeing the mess of once-again ripped open junk food and wrappers littering the floor. I sat behind a rather large box (big enough to shield me from sight at the very least) and waited for the opportunity to pounce.

Skoodge was sitting on the floor very much invested in the “ploof puffs” he was shoving into his adorable chubby face. Not really paying much mind to the other two. Zim and Tak sat atop two boxes staring each other down. Tak had her back to me and Zim was so fixated on his enemy, that he didn’t notice me peeking out from the box behind her. I could see on Zim’s face that SOMETHING said before my arrival was eating at him. The conversation continued-

“I’m telling you the truth, Zim.”

“There is NO WAY you did it on your own, Tak.”

“You think I’m lying? Or is your pride eating away at you because I’m clearly the superior soldier to-be?”

“There is NO WAY YOU would hurt my pride. BESIDES, how could someone with your intellectual shortcomings accomplish something soldiers are trained YEARS to do?!”

“Okay, fine. This will shut you up, you reject!”

I couldn’t see her face but she stood straight and her body tighten, I could see her fists turning pale by the amount of pressure she was putting on them. The ports on her back slowly opened and her PAK legs menacingly emerged. Awkwardly crawling out and wobbling as the touched the ground and lifted her mid air.

Skoodge panicked and fled at the sight of the thin, metallic limbs- having never seen or been told about these things prior, this must have been quite terrifying. And it’s true. I was shocked myself. The shit was right. Irken soldiers are taught how to use these well into their military training and it takes a tremendous amount of skill and concentration to activate. For a smeet this was basically unheard of. Tak May very well be the most advanced smeet in Irken history.

Zim was.... far from impressed. He puffed his cheeks and pouted quietly as Tak spat insult after insult to him, Landing harsh and pride crushing comments. I almost felt sorry. It wasn’t until one of her legs abandoned its position of stabilizer and shakily made its way toward Zim’s throat that I knew I had to step in NOW.

Not wanting to use my taser on her, I did the next best thing. I took my boot off and smacked it on the PAK leg closest to me, knocking her off balance and bringing her hurdling downwards. The PAK legs quickly retreated back into their holder and the small Irken was left confused and slightly stunned by the secret attack.

Skoodge ran over to me, tears in his eyes, wailing about the scary legs. He clung to my foot tight. Real tight. Kid has a good grip. I (and my newfound leech) walked over to Tak to picked her up. She just stared at the floor, quickly blinking and not saying a word. Man.... I got her good. I put her to my chest and she didn’t budge. It was unnerving to say the least but she was still alive so.... I just gotta gather the last one.

Zim was spaced out. Totally lost in thought. Didn’t even twitch when I approached him. Seeing those legs really internally triggered something. I scoop him up and stare. I might have well had not been there as far as he was concerned. He was gone from this place.

We get back to the smeetery and I drop off Zim and Skoodge (Skoodge waved me good-bye too. He is so cute sometimes) and made my way to the medical ward with Tak. Just to make sure I didn’t mess her up too bad, you know? The staff there assured me she was okay and just stunned but I told them to keep her for testing anyway. Can’t have that on my conscience.

By the time I got back to the smeetery, Zim was gone and Skoodge was alone, doing some light reading in the form of a cooking magazine. Where he got it, I didn’t ask. It was unusual to see these two separated though. “Where is Zim?” I asked confused. “Hmmm?” He hummed with a slight jump. Must’ve startled him. “Zim wanted to go to the tube room. Is Tak okay?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. She’s fine. You okay though?”

“Yeah. That was just scary.”

“They really aren’t. Just another tool we have to protect ourselves and aid ‘n battle. One day you will be trained to use yours too.”

His eyes lit up in wonder and confusion “I HAVE THEM TOO?????”

“Yup. But it’s totally normal you can’t use them yet though. The fact that Tak could is real unusual. I know you’ll get there.” I said ruffling his antenna. He let out a laugh and smiled “Thanks”

“Anytime. Imma see what the little shit is up to.”

“HAVE FUN!” He joyfully waved as I walked away. Skoodge is unusual too. Now that I think about it, everyone associated with the little shit is so quirky. This batch of smeets...they really do have bright futures ahead of them.

Walking through the doors to the usually silent unborn sleeping chambers, the room echoed with low, muffled grunts and heavy breathing. I know this voice. I just had to find him.

Tucked off to one of the corners of the massive room, Zim was doubled over panting, clutching at his chest. His PAK opened and his legs partially exposed, spazzing and sparking, filling the air around him with a dangerous electrical charge. Never in all my life have I seen a PAK respond this way. His body seized, confulsing constantly. His eyes welled with tears, sweat dripping down his entire frame. Veins bulged out of his skin.

Here is something ya gotta know about Irken anatomy. PAKs serve as a second brain and is connected to the organic brain through the spine by a series of wires. Some things are only possible BECAUSE of this connection. Like using PAK legs. The host needs to be able to simultaneously create a gateway both consciously and subconsciously to allow data to flow between the two. Using the legs as an extension of their organic bodies. Being able to tell each of the 4 legs to move independently but having enough focus to not completely be distracted by it. Kinda like breathing. Your brain knows to do it automatically. But if you wanted to, you could alter its patterns. Except a loss of control would mean a comrade getting empaled. Concentration and data input is everything. I’m gettin side tracked though, I didn’t even know it was POSSIBLE to see the bridge between the two minds. But here they were. I could see every ridge, every curve of the wiring violently throbbing.

This is bad. THIS IS SO BAD.

I tried to grab him- he needed medical attention ASAP. WHAT ON IRK WAS HAPPENING!? But as I reached for him, the legs became defensive and started stabbing in my direction. The electrical charge strengthened too. Zim coiled into himself more. He wanted to scream. I could see it in his face. But every time he opened that yap of his- there was nothing.

Oh, My tallest. The closer I got to him, the more his PAK simultaneously defended/harmed him. I screamed for help. Someone.... ANYONE, please. Come! I have no idea what’s going on!

“....z-zara....” I heard faintly between gasps and groans. He reached his hand to me. FUCK THIS. I cannot let the suffering go on any longer. I’m sorry, Zim. But I gotta do this.

I grabbed my taser out and gave his PAK a short jolt, praying that it would short circuit and reboot. His legs stabbed into my hand before going limp, just like the rest of him. The bright pink lights emminating from his back faded to a faint, dim color. But it was still lit. Please. PLEASE. Be okay.

There was a moment of silence. Felt like a decade though, wondering if it worked. Or if I just made the worst mistake of my career.

“REACTIVATING”

The PAK light shone bright again and gave the body a single jolt. The legs instantly retracted. He stirred, groaning. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times, not a single word spoken between us. He looked at me, pained and spiritually drained. “Zara....” he finally said.

I grabbed him and gave him a hug. I was so relieved. He was okay. He just accepted my embrace. He didn’t have the strength to fight. Slowly pulling him away, I could finally speak. “Imma take you to the medical station, okay?” He replied with a humm. Response accepted.

The smeetery staff rushed in (it was so hard to believe only a moment had passed In real time) but I took it upon myself to hand deliver him where he needed to be. It was a long, unsettlingly uncomfortable walk. But this.... I wanted to be here. I needed to. Unfortunately, we soon arrived to the medical station and I finally had to hand him off and return to my shift. I didn’t wanna leave him. Not one bit. I can’t even imagine how he was feeling. But I have a job to do. We gave each other a sad look as we parted. There was a slight pain in my chest the whole time.

The rest of the day dragged on what seemed like years but within a few hours, Zim had been released from care and returned to the Smeetery by a member of the medical staff. She just silently walked in, spoke to a smeetery staff member, placed him on the floor and disappeared. I was thrilled (I would never tell him that though). But I can tell he was still deeply upset. I approached him and asked if he was okay. His eyes said more than his words ever could. I picked him up. I honestly don’t have a game plan but... he needs a few minutes to breathe, I think.

I wave to another guard and ask her to take my place. She saw the smeet I held close and said “fine. But you owe me one.” Wouldn’t be the first time Kira helped me out. She was probably the closest thing to a friend I had in this place. I thanked her and took my leave. Zim didn’t really ask any questions. Just kinda went for the ride.

We wound up in a pantry. I sat down on the cold floor and put him next to me. This... was awkward. I couldn’t figure out what to say or do. Or even why I wound up HERE of all places. Why not my office???? Thankfully, he tore me away from my thoughts and broke the ice.

“Why are we here? Don’t you usually want Zim OUT of the pantry?”

“Uhhhhhh.... you looked like you needed a few minutes to breathe.”

He hugged his knees. “Zim is fine.”

There was that silence again. I’m the adult here. I gotta do something....right?

“You know, the thing with Tak has never happened before.”

“Just rub it in...” he mumbled burying his face into his legs.

“But, you were able to pull yours out too. Even just a little. That’s impressive too.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but mine tried to kill me.”

“Maybe yours are just-“

“The medical staff-“ he cut me off “told me I might never be able to use them right. That Zim might be “defective”.”

I was agitated to say the least. How can you say something like that to a smeet? A BABY? This little soul who just began living this life he never asked for? My emotions got the best of me. “Listen here, Zim. Maybe you can’t use your legs the way she does. Or the way I do. But I know you will find a way. You have never bowed down when the odds were stack against you before. Why start now?”

He didn’t stir. I passionately rambled on “you are a lot of things. Cunning. Manipulative. Obsessive. Persuasive. Passionate. But you are damn smart. I’m constantly surprised by your ingenuity and craftsmanship. You know how good I am at dismantling your bombs at this point? You challenge those around you to grow and be better. I wish you WOULDN’T challenge me with explosives, mind you, but you aren’t defective. No way, no how. You are different. And no one said different is bad. Just means you leave your mark in ways no one expected before. And maybe that scares some but.... I believe that you can do amazing things. And screw em If they don’t see it.”

He let out a small chuckle. It was refreshing to hear, even if it was a sad, emotionally drained laugh.

“Does that mean you don’t hate me?”

“I didn’t say all that now.”

He smiled with sorrow and hugged himself tighter.

Maybe that was a little too deep. I was actually kinda embarrassed for that. But.... perhaps I could say something else to make him feel better. “You know” I started “when I have a bad day, I like to look at the stars. You can’t see them here but they always put me at ease.”

“Stars?”

“Yeah. They exist outside the planet, in space. Burning, exploding balls of chemicals. Mostly hydrogen and helium. But from Irk’s surface, they are just beautiful bright lights littering the sky. You can’t see them everywhere here ‘cuz of the brightness of the surface’s refelection in our atmosphere. But I came from the sugar mines before I was a guard. It’s a lot less industrial and darker there so it was always so much easier to see.”

“Burning balls? Really?” He scoffed, amused and confused but intrigued.

“I guess tellin’ you about ‘em doesn’t do it justice. Here. Let me show you. Computer.”

My PAK lit up and released a small floating, mechanical ball with a small circular screen used for projections. Zim just stared. “Show us stars.”

As instructed, the screen painted a gorgeous night sky (as “night” as Irken pink skies get anyway) glistening with hundreds of stars. Zim stared, taken aback. There was a slight sparkle in his face. Good. This helped. Thank the Tallest. The projection stayed active for only a moment before I thought it was enough. Without saying anything, the orb returned to where it had come from.

“You okay?” I finally asked, knowing the answer already but hoping for the best.

“.... can we stay here a little bit longer?”

I can tell in his voice, he was embarrassed. Ashamed. Depressed. Confused. Self-loathing. His whole world thrown in a blender. “Sure” I said pulling him closer to my leg. I kept my hand on his back, gently stroking it. Imagine my surprise when he accepted my compassion and snuggled up to me.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking but all my organic brain kept repeating was “just be there for him.” I dunno what this feeling in my spooch could have been but it felt knotted and twisted at the sight of his misery. I had to look away. What is this smeet? Why does he make me feel this way? Do I have a bug? Is this something else I don’t understand? ...You know what? It’s Best not to think too much about it, I guess. Just take in this silence with the little shit. He will be back to his old self tomorrow I bet.

Zara signing off

#invader zim #iz #zim #zero’s art #sketch #iz fanart #zero’s oc zara #iz smeet #smeet zim #irken smeet #skoodge #iz tak #tak invader zim

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 48, Replies Part 2

1) “Shut the fuck Phelps- Don’t listen to him Aizawa, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, it is in fact imperative that you take part in those shenanigans, okay? Innocent lives depend on this!”- Aizawa is forever doomed to partake in shenanigans of one type or another, whether at work, social events, or even at school. You’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t such a natural fit for the straight man.

2) “I appreciate the enthusiasm Fat, but he’s only saying that because he’s already looking for a way out of this madness, he’s internally praying to God to manifest some villains so they can get this over with.”- And just to prove that God isn’t on Aizawa’s side, they don’t seem to have caught a single member of the VF’s inner circle despite the long hours of exhaustive undercover work and numerous disguises. If only they’d included somebody in the team who attracts these kinds of nefarious villains like the proverbial honey to flies…

3) “This is without a doubt my favorite chapter in this entire series and it keeps getting better and better the more Aizawa is forced to suffer at the hands of not one, but two extroverts whom he can’t escape from.

It’s beautiful, it’s the perfect setup, 11/10.”-  It upped that score by the end of the chapter, even! Gonna be hard to top this, but I’m confident they can pull it off somehow.

4) “I think I need a moment of silence to honor the death of subtly, may it rest in peace forever for Furuhashi has completely murdered it to death.”- You’d think last chapter was evidence enough, but nope, Furuhashi had to go the extra mile to make sure we got the gag, even for those readers who are blind and deaf, and this is just further proof he really hasn’t got the definition of subtlety anywhere nearby him. 

Though it is an interesting call forward, since I think Aizawa probably had nearly the exact same suit on, so he was probably thinking back to this moment when he chose how to look ‘presentable’ for the press conference, relying on Monika’s advice and indirect support in a stressful moment.

5) “Monika are you two working undercover or in a fucking date? That’s three different clothes and situations in such a short span of time, it does feel like a long date

…

Huh, I never… I never even imagined this ship… Interesting…”- Neither did Koichi and the Hota brothers, which is why it’s made a complete circuit around the rumour mill before Aizawa got home that night.

6) “I know that this was the second villain they caught on this page alone, but my brain is now refusing to see this as anything but a date”- I mean, Aizawa’s idea of a good date probably involves occasional breaks for violence against Villains ruining the romantic mood, so this still fits.

7) “Thank god he’s dense as osmium, he didn’t thought of the possibility of them being going out, there’s a chance their cover won’t be blow

maybe.

Hopefully”- Actually, he does think they’re going out, since he never got the memo that Monica was an undercover officer the whole time, thanks in part to the aforementioned denseness, which means that the one time Koichi seems to ‘get’ the romantic hints it’s actually the complete opposite, but Aizawa can’t ever tell him that because that’d blow his cover. Oh, the Irony.

8) “OH GOD DUDE PLEASE WEAR YOUR GLASSES”- I honestly can’t tell if that’s because of his quirk, or Furuhashi just going for a ‘artistic’ facial look.

9) “Phew, that was a close one. Aizawa knows how close they were to being caught, one second more and Koichi would’ve ruined everything.

We’re safe for now, the date- I mean, the mission can continue as planned. “- It’s a little unclear, but due to the lighting in these scenes only going to ‘dusk/night time’ towards the end, I think all those scenes of Aizawa and Monica dressed up and investigating happened on the same day, which is impressive when you consider the sheer number of wardrobe changes Monika must have forced Aizawa into over such a short period of time. Poor guy’s like her personal Ken doll.

10) “OH

NEW COSTUMES? DEADASS?

I mean, beyond Captain’s ass that is, he is only soon-to-be-deadass”- At least they won’t have to dress the corpse up before they put it in the casket.

11) “Jesus, we’re getting to what I feared, aren’t we? Pop’s too busy with her own stuff to care about what Koichi has to say, and this is going to hurt a little. They are falling apart slowly, she doesn’t even help with the vigilante business that much, he has other things to do after all.”- It’s not even like Koichi ‘really’ has other things to do, since he was kicked out of their practice in part because he was getting in the way of them getting it right, and doesn’t even seem to have run into villains when he was out on patrol, miraculous as they may be. 

The thing is, Koichi simply doesn’t have anything to contribute to either the VF investigation now he’s passed on the accumulated intel, or the Featherhat’s practice routines now they’re kicking them into overtime for the big show. It’s a little sad, but it does tie back into Koichi’s struggles to ‘fit in’ with others back before he met Knuckle and Pop, and ties into his ongoing storyline of choosing who he wants to be on his own merits, not from hanging out with others and being part of their lives and stories.

12) “Koichi’s clearly conflicted here. He is happy that Pop is getting to achieve her goals, but at the same time he’s feeling down that his best friend also doesn’t have time to even talk to him anymore. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s just there, quietly waiting for an opening that will never come because she’s so focused

Koichi is soon to realize that it isn’t just Knuckleduster that left him for other things, he has now become the sole vigilante of the neighborhood.”-  It also ties into the ‘unnecessariness’ of Koichi’s vigilantism a little. As several people have Pointed out, Koichi might be involved in the fights against the VF’s experiments, and might have been involved in Pop’s idol shows, but that was in an incidental manner. By and large, his actions in fighting crime strictly aren’t necessary to resolve them- sooner or later heroes will come along and round up the Villains anyway, and all Koichi is doing is running out the clock and distracting them until a hero arrives on the scene to deal with them in his stead. Koichi’s never actually done anything purely on his own initiative, he’s always been nudged or propertied into it by others, and whilst he enjoys the vigilantism, and getting to feel like a hero, that doesn’t change the fact he’s just ‘pretending’ to be one. 

The heroes and the police can take over the investigation of the VF without his input, Pop and Makoto can set up this big stadium show and televised demise of the Captain without him and without knuckle around, Koichi doesn’t really have anything else to do or help out with. By being a hanger-on, he’s never really chosen a path for himself to follow- he’s merely helped others achieve their own passions in life, and now that their stories are moving onto a higher and more commitment-focus level, Koichi’s not really needed anymore. By helping out he was able to feel like he was part of something, but that was all them, and not really something Koichi was doing for himself, Now he’s bereft of people to help with, it’s almost like Koichi’s fallen back a little into those lonely times when he was living in the cave of Vigilantism alone, without any friends to talk to- and in part, Koichi really doesn’t have anybody to blame for them but himself, because he’s never chosen his own path to follow. 

Knuckle’s vigilantism, Aizawa and Phelp’s investigation, Pop’s show- these are all things that he’s been part of, but none of them revolve around him. Koichi’s still trying to figure out who he wants to become, and without a clear goal to strive for, he becomes a little lost when faced with a crossroads and seeing everybody else around him striding confidently forwards on their chosen path, so confident and certain of what they’re doing, yet he himself doesn’t even know what path in life he wants to take yet. Being a vigilante feels good and right for Koichi, but it’s not a career that will be viable to support his lifestyle in the ‘half-way’ manner he’s handled things with so far, and at some point, Koichi will have to choose if he wants to remain a vigilante, or commit to another path in life, given that, unlike many of the ‘official’ heroes around, nobody really seems to ‘need’ him in the capacity of a vigilante like they would other heroes.

13) “HE WENT AFTER THE HOTA BROTHERS BECAUSE HE HAS NO ONE ELSE TO TALK TO, NO FRIENDS THAT HE CAN TALK TO, HE’S ALL ALONE”- I don’t know what’s sadder- That Koichi fell back on those two because, despite all the connections he’d made since becoming a vigilante, none of them were deep enough that his friends would put some time aside to hang out with Koichi in favour of focusing on their goals, that everybody is so used to having Koichi around in a helpful, supporting capacity that none of them consider his wants and needs when their goals require higher commitment, or that Koichi was dead-certain these two grown-ass men were so friendless and unconnected that they’d definitely have time to spare to hear his woes- and was right on the money.

14) “OH, NOW THAT KOICHI HAS DIRTY ON YOUR OLDER BROTHER YOU TWO WANT TO HEAR HIM? WELL FUCK YOU TOO, KOICHI DESERVES BETTER”- And even chatting to them, they move right over hearing Koichi’s personal grievances in favour of getting some juicy dirt on their employer- and because Koichi is glad to be included with them he doesn’t even mind.

15) “ALSO, OH GOD HE’S GONNA SAY THAT AIZAWA WAS DATING MONIKA I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT”- Aizawa only has himself to blame for leaving Koichi on the Bench like that.

16) “OH RIGHT, KOICHI DOESN’T KNOW THAT MONIKA WAS A COP RATHER THAN AN IDOL, HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A WAY OF KNOWING THAT AIZAWA WAS UNDERCOVER, TO HIM, HE WAS REALLY GOING OUT WITH AN IDOL.”-Maybe less hilarious misunderstandings with romance would happen if People bothered to keep Koichi in the loop. He’s the main character of this story, and yet somehow, he’s even more excluded from social groups than Izuku was at this point.

17) “I LIVE FOR THIS TYPE OF SHIT RIGHT HERE

ALSO FOR FUCK’S SAKE AIZAWA, THE WAY OF PHRASED THAT IS LESS “WHO TOLD YOU SOMETHING THIS WRONG” AND MORE LIKE ‘WHO FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS SECRET””- Aizawa doesn’t care for his appearance, nor for how what he says comes across to people. It’s been a long day and Monica only had crappy instant coffee to sustain him, so he’s in dire need of a cup of joe before he can be bothered to look out one of his already-spare fucks to give about what they think he’s been up to.

18) “I said a long time ago that Koichi would end up alone, since Knuckle left him to care for his own family, even if he end up not doing that, and that Pop would be moving up on the idol world so she would be taking less and less part in helping with vigilante business. I knew that eventually this little bird would need to fly alone, and it seems we’re finally at that threshold.”-It’s necessary for a hero to stand on their own two feet, and whilst it’s not a tragic loss like what Yagi experienced with Nana, it’s arguably worse seeing all the people around Koichi still being in his life, but slowly drifting away, leaving him alone to carry the burden of being the town vigilante, because somebody’s got to, no matter how unnecessary it comes across to others around him. 

Knuckle choose Koichi as his successor because he could tell Koichi would stick to being the town protector no matter how hard it got, nor how many people would tell him he wasn’t needed, and even as others move away from the ‘childish’ activity, Koichi still sticks at it, doing the right thing in his own way because somebody should do it, and if everybody’s busy with other things he’ll keep putting himself out there, being the unrecognised hero in the shadows, because he can see the value in what he does, even if all his companions have had to move their focus elsewhere. That said, it’s not like it doesn’t hurt a little, realising that he’s the only one who still wants to keep doing this vigilante gig again and again. @thelreads​

#bnha vigilantes #bnha #thelreads #chapter replies #my hero academia #vigilantes 48

[we-want-mini-mini]

Omg. I was reading this HC about the reason why Clark Kent always leaves the scene whenever Superman appears because he (Clark Kent) HATES Superman. Like, he keeps on making convoluted reasons as to why.

It goes even as far as Clark writing a cynical think piece about Superman and vigilantism and Lex Luthor coming across it and absolutely loving it.

Here’s the original post:

And, all of you know I have a prompt/oneshot which includes an OC who works for Lex Luthor (and knows all the Supervillian bullshit he pulls cause there technically from an alternate world where all the DC characters are just characters lmao).

Anyways, in said prompt Lia also lives next to Clark Kent because I find it beyond funny that she is essentially the right hand to her next door neighbors arch nemesis.

And like, I imgained that one day, Luthor brings up the fact he really likes this one writer from the Daily Planet. Lia, who is understandably curious, asks her employer who that writer is.

Luthor says, with a straight face: “Clark Kent.”

For a moment Lia just stares at Luthor, fighting off a smile, while her shoulders shake like it’s a 9 point O earthquake on the Ricther Magnitude scale. Luthor shoots her a look, but Lia turns away, slapping her hand her mouth trying not to brust out laughing. After a little bit she does, but when she turns around, Luthor gives her another look and she knows she has to come up with a good excuse.

Her brain short circuits and she blurts out, “I think he’s my next door neighbor.” And immediately she regrets ever existing. She wants her entire being to cease to exist, from the very last atom.

A flash of surprise goes through Luthor’s face, as he asks her, “Oh? Is that so?”

“I mean, I think,” Lia adds smoothly, her brain on overdrive. “They share the same name but I’ve never seen a picture of Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, so, I can’t be sure that my neighbor and the one from the Daily Planet are the same person.” She said, lying straight through her teeth. She knows that Clark Kent her Neighbor and Clark Kent a reporter from the Daily Planet, are in fact, the same person. But Luthor does not need to know that.

Fortunately, Luthor drops the topic and asks Lia about some other shit. Internally, it feels as if the weight of the sky itself was lifted off her shoulders.

Unfortunately, a couple weeks later, at a Gala were Lia is with Luthor, a familiar, mop of black hair (just slightly curled at the end), striking (almost alien) blue eyes and the iconic thick, black times glasses make their way towards them. Lia, of course, only notices too late because the universe despises her and Clark, introduces himself, while recognizing that his next door neighbor is next too his arch nemesis.

Him (Clark) not noticing the growing panic and despair on his neighbors face, immediately calls out to her saying, “Lia?” in a surprised voice.

Lia, knowing how throughly fucked she is, knowing she can’t BS her way out of his, and that her lips never wait for her brain to catch says, “Clark??”

(Pretend that in this version of the prompt/oneshot Clark never found out that his next door neighbor is esstentially the right hand to his arch nemesis).

Cue a very awkward and tense conversation (at least for Lia) between the trio. Luthor being pleasantly surprised and a bit suspicious but he brushes it off, leaving it later to ponder. Clark, is absolutely floored but he has his job too do, so he does it. He’s lowkey kinda betrayed but can’t blame Lia because she’s just 23 and this sort of job is a dream come true for most and he (assumes) that Lia does not know anything abt the whole Lex Luthor is a Raging Supervillian and Also Superman’s (which is Me) Arch Nemesis. Lia, throughout the convo, recovers (externally), and answers Clark’s questions with ease. Internally, she’s slowly dying in the inside, mentally preparing herself for the questions Luthor with undoubtedly ask later. Lia wants the Rapture itself to commence so she could just avoid all of this bull shit. She does not avoid all of this bull shit. 

Anyways, after that whole debacle, Luthor leaves with a greater respect for the man (he found him very competent and also very pleasing to the eye). Clark is... conflicted but he does what he does and maintains his rep of hating Supes. Lia is just. Done and Dying. She can’t. She honestly can’t. But she muscles through and awaits for Luthor to do whatever Luthor does best. She’s surprised when she sees her employer (whose a Supervillian and hates Superman) look at Clark with a look in his eyes (it isn’t annoyance, indifference, or anything like that... it’s... holy shit, is Luthor checking Clark’s ass out???? Oh. My. God. This is. Honest to God, the best and worst thing I’ve ever seen. Oh my god. I want to cry. And laugh. Holy fuck. What the shit is even happening anymore?). Safe to say, from then on, Clark gets sent to LexCorp to take interviews for Luthor and stuff. Luthor, grows to develop a deeper interest for Clark (all in the view for Lia).

Hell, at one point he admits it. And asks Lia what Clark’s favorite type of flower is. Lia, is floored. She wants to laugh. And cry. She manages to say, with a straight face and even voice, “I’m not sure, Mr. Luthor.” She has to bite her lip at the true and unbridled irony of the whole situation. Oh my god. Enemies to Lovers. Slow burn. One sided pinning. Denial. Oh my god. Oh. My. God. I’m watching fanfic play out right before my eyes. Holy shit.

Like, I can’t stop laughing at the irony of the situation. Imgaine for a sec being in Lia’s shoe. Like. Your the EA to a very powerful person, who happens to be a raging Supervillian. You know this cause reasons. You also happen to live next door to your boss’s arch nemesis. Then due to a series of events, your boss slowly starts to fall for his arch nemesis’s civilian identity. You’re watching this shit. In real time. Fucking imgaine that yo. Absolute fucking gold. Like. Holy shit.

Also, this still could work (without my OC present). Like, in a world where everything is the same aside from the HC that Clark is known to not like Superman and Lex immediately takes a liking to Clark. Say Clark goes to a gala and meets Luthor. Now he has to keep up the rep that he Does Not Like Superman (while he Is Superman). Luthor becomes interested after Clark interviews him. He also checks out Clark’s ass because yeah. Then, Clark does more interviews for LexCorp. Luthor develops a deeper interest in Clark. He even asked Clark out on a date. Imgaine being Clark. Your arch fucking nemesis (whose a raging Supervillian) just asked you out (without knowing you’re the same person they hate). Enemies to Lovers but it’s one sided in the sense that one of them doesn’t know that the other is their arch nemesis jaksjsjsksksksoskks

IMGAINE THO. SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABT THE PROMPT ABOVE AND FUCKING TAGGING ME SKSJDJXJSJDJJDJ

#fanfic prompt #prompt #oneshot #superman #clark kent #lex luthor #crack #batman and robin #robin #batman #dc oc #dc headcanon #enemies to lovers #but its sorta one sided #lex luthor x clark kent #gotham #executive assistant to lex luthor #dc universe

[stories-sometimes]

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {1/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader 

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friend. But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin all of those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 2087

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

~~~ 

The blip had been stressful, college had been stressful, overall it was pretty safe to say Peter’s life was ridiculously stressful at the moment. He was hoping this trip to Europe would help him blow off some steam. And who knows, maybe it will be the perfect time to tell his best friend that he was madly in love with her. So there he was, standing in an airport with Ned, waiting for her to show up. Finally she did, looking effortlessly perfect. She’d always been pretty, and he’d probably always been in love with her, but now she was on a whole other level. And somewhere along the transition between schools she found an affinity for short skirts, which Peter (along with the majority of the male (and some female) population on campus) firmly believed was purely to torture him. 

“Hey, you look great,” Peter said, feeling a strong sense of pride as he watched her face turn a couple shades of red darker. “You excited?”

“Yeah, I really need this break.” She responded.

“Same, wanna just be a normal person for once.”

“So no Spiderman?” Peter shook his head. “What are your guy’s plan then?”

“Single bachelors in Europe.” Ned answered, Peter watched her carefully, trying to figure out if her face did drop a little or if it was just his imagination.

“Well that’s his plan.” Peter mumbled.

“What’s your plan then?”

“I don’t know, just gonna see what happens.”

“Alright, I should probably go check in on MJ.” She said as she walked away. Peter watched her, admiring the way her legs looked in that skirt. 

“Single bachelors in Europe.” Ned tried to remind him.

“Yeah, that’s your plan.” Peter answered absentmindedly. The plane journey was reasonably uneventful, minus her falling asleep on Peter’s shoulder and him trying to make sure his brain didn’t short circuit. And somehow Ned managed to start dating Betty, neither her nor Peter could figure that one out.

They finally reached Venice, and even though their hotel was a little shoddy, the city itself was more beautiful than any of them could have imagined. The three friends all split up, Ned went off with Betty, she went off with MJ and Peter was walking around the city on his own, aimlessly wandering around the old streets. One small jewellery store ended up catching his eye. It was down a small alley, a good walk away from the Grand Canal. There was a delicate silver necklace with a detailed, glass daisy charm.

It reminded him of when they were kids. How she thought they were the prettiest flowers and how he would search round parks and the occasional crack in a sidewalk for them. He’d bring them to May, who would help him tie a bow around them. Then the next day he’d give them to her at school, feeling the greatest satisfaction a kid could possibly experience when he saw her face light up. It would be the perfect gift to go along a lifelong love confession. 

Peter entered the store. Lucky for him the necklace was within his budget. He carefully placed the package in his pocket, planning out how to tell her how he felt in his head. He strolled out of the store, an extra little pep in his step.

“Boh.” Mj said, popping up behind Peter, closely followed by her.

“What?”

“Boh. It’s the perfect word in the world. Italians created it, and I just discovered it.” MJ explained.

“She’s very proud of that.” She said, smiling at MJ’s unusual excitement.

“What does it mean?”

“That’s the thing, it can mean a million things. It can mean ‘I don’t know’, ‘get out of my face’, ‘I don’t know and get out of my face’. It’s the best thing Italy ever created, except for maybe espresso.”

“Oh, so you’ve been drinking espresso.”

“How did you possibly guess that.” She jokes making Peter laugh. MJ sticks her finger up in response to her two friends. A man came up to the three of them before MJ shooed him off with a simple boh.

“Boh is my new superpower. It’s like the anti aloha. I was born to say this word. So, what’s in the bag?”

“Um, boh.” Peter responded.

“Nice.” MJ smiled before walking away after she spotted Brad, leaving Peter and her alone.

“You think they’ll get together?” She asked Peter, watching MJ and Brad interact.

“No!” Peter said surprisingly abruptly, “why, did she say something to you?”

“She likes him, thinks he’s really nice. But she’s not ready for a relationship at the moment, the world’s too messy for that right now.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want them getting together. Don’t think they’re right for each other.” Peter said.

“Oh.” She said, feeling her heart drop a little. Why did he care so much about MJ’s love life?

“So you two have a nice time?” Peter smiled.

“Yeah, the city’s insanely pretty and I also got to find out how much pigeons like MJ.” She replied, trying to lighten the mood and ignore the jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Wait … what?”

“Yeah, I’ve got pictures.”

“You have got to show me.” There was multiple photos of an awkward-looking MJ covered in a stupid amount of pigeons. In front of them a hoard of crabs scurried out of the water. 

“Whoa,” she said, moving her phone away to watch the animals. “What the hell?” All the water around them began to flow towards the middle of the river. Seconds later the water exploded above the river. People quickly began to panic, running away from the water. Ned and Betty slammed into her and Peter, scrabbling out of their gondola. The water soon formed a giant-like monster.

“What is that?” Ned asked, panicked as he scrambled out of the boat.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Peter shouted back, “You just need to get them out of here.” He gestured to Betty and MJ. Ned nodded, guiding the two girls far away from Peter. 

“Do you have your suit?” She asked him. He shook his head. “Why not?”

“I’m on vacation.” She glared at him. “You need to get out of here, don’t worry about me just get to safety.” He said, holding onto her shoulders protectively. She nodded.

“Take this.” She said, pulling out a masquerade mask from her bag before kissing his cheek and running off. He blushed before regaining his composure and placing the mask on his face. The monster smashed through the surrounding buildings sending rubble raining down on the fleeing civilians. Streets flooded with water as parts of the monster flew out to attack. Peter put on his web shooters and shot out at the monster. The web went straight through it. You fucking idiot, he thought to himself. He spotted a bridge, vaulting over poles sticking up in the river to get to the higher ground. Before he could prepare himself for a fight he was hit by a blast of water. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a masked figure fly down, shooting green beams at the water. The figure was dressed in green and golden armour with a fishbowl-like mask. Peter watched the mysterious guy fight the monster, the water thrashed out, hurling the man into the water. Peter panicked, climbing up the side of a building to get a better view of the situation. The man somehow remained reasonably unharmed and flew back up to carry on the fight.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, getting the attention of the man, “Let me help, I’m really strong and I’m … sticky.”

“I need to draw it away from the canal.” The man shouted, flying towards the city centre, luring the monster away from its source of power. As the man flew away Peter swung up to a bell tower that was about to fall - potentially about to crush a number of civilians, including a cluster of his classmates. He shot his webs to more stable buildings, using all his strength to prevent its collapse, ignoring the pain as the bell slammed into his head. He manages to pull the tower back into place, shooting a series of webs to keep the tower up. He stood up to watch the man formed green mist around the monster, repeatedly hitting the monster with it. The monster weakened, losing water and power. The man flew up to closer to the tower Peter was on. Green triangles sent beams out at the monster until it was about to be defeated. Right before the monster fell Peter spotted her standing on a bridge behind the monster.

“My friend’s on that bridge.” Peter shouted, the man looked from Peter to her, frozen in fear, cemented to her spot on the bridge. The man sent one final blast out at the monster and as it fell towards the bridge, the man flew out towards it. The remaining water crushed the bridge below it, leaving her screaming as she began to fall down into the water. Peter felt the world crumbling down around him, he’d lost too many people, he couldn’t risk adding her to the list. He began to swing out towards her, but before he could reach her he saw the man dive into the water, soon emerging with her in his arms. Peter relaxed instantly, dropping down a safe distance away from his friends. He watched as the man held tightly onto her as he placed her down on the ground. The college students all cheered for the man as he saved their friend.

“You alright?” The man asked her, continuing to hold her as she coughed up the water. He had one hand on her waist and the other placed high up on her leg, dangerously close to the end of her skirt.

“Yeah, I can’t thank you enough. I thought that was going to be the end.” She said, smiling admiringly up at him. Her hands also remained holding onto him as though if she let go she’d be back in the water.

“I couldn’t let you die on my watch.” He said, his hand leaving her waist to push the wet hair out of her face. She blushed, looking down at his other hand. Only then did he seem to realise how high up her leg his hand was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind.” She replied, the same grateful tone in her voice. She pulled down her skirt slightly as he helped her up.

“Here, take this, it’ll warm you up a little.” He said, removing his cape and wrapping it around her shaking shoulders.

“You sure you don’t need it?”

“I’ve got a spare one, you need it more than I do.” He pulled the cape tighter around her, he placed a hand on her cheek which she instantly leaned into, “stay safe.” He said before finally flying away, waving to the cheering crowds around him. Peter had watched the two’s interaction from afar, a strong feeling of guilt consuming him that he wasn’t there to help him. He had vowed the day she found out he was Spiderman that he would always be there to protect her, save her from any harm that may come her way. And if it wasn’t for this mysterious saviour, she could have easily been dead. Peter tried to push these feelings aside. His classmates now all surrounded her, checking she was alright, asking about the man, failing to hide their envy of the small interaction. Peter walked slowly back to the group, checking that the necklace was still intact. Thank God it was.

“Peter!” She shouted, running over to him and wrapping her arms and the cape around him. “Thank God you’re alright, I was so worried. How are you?” She buried her head in his neck.

“Hey, hey, this isn’t about me. You almost drowned, I should be asking you that. I promised to protect you and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” She said, lightly smacking him on the chest. “You had other things to deal with.”

“I just can’t lose you as well.” Peter hung his head.

“You’re not going to, I promise.” She smiled at him, he looked up at her through his lashes. Her heart swelled and she almost hated him for how adorable he looked right now. “Who was that guy?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #quentin beck #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #marvel #marvel fic #spiderman #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #mysterio #spiderman far from home

[exobyharu]

PCY - One Shot

Image source to follow. I just Googled it like this

“Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…”

Summary: A flustered PCY? It was a close call. He was definitely going to tell Baekhyun about his minor fuck up. He may need more than “just make sure you smell good” from him. He got what he came for, though. You can’t say it was a bad idea either.

⏰ 2:10 PM 🌏 7-11, near Chanyeol’s imaginary radio station ☁️ Just immediately after a heavy thunderstorm 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun

Notes: Another one shot because I’m busy for the holidays. :( First person: It’s my first time! Next update will be on the series. Happy Holidays!

Words: ~1,700

💙💙💙

I just want to be in a proper relationship and stay in it. Instead, the only eligible guy within my social circle is my childhood’s worst nightmare, Byun Baekhyun. I know that I seem way too ungrateful, seeing that countless women would kill to be in my place, but if they had only grown up with the guy, they would know that it would be almost impossible to see him more than a pesky little brother.

Trust me. I tried.

I could barely get the facts straight in my head: He’s actually older than me – even though he behaves way too much like a stubbornly mental teenager and five hyperactive puppies, all combined in one body.

My life was set. Until last night, my life is going to be with this guy I’ve been in a relationship with for the past five years. At least until I discover that he had been cheating for at least half of it, because I turn out to be too boring (his words) for his fun-loving, go-getting ways.

I was told and it explains why I suddenly –  and oh so desperately – want to try something crazy to change that. By my albeit too boring standards, a slow drive down the outskirts of the city in the middle of an afternoon thunderstorm seems like the perfect kind of reckless to me.

There isn’t even alcohol in the picture. Just me, my father’s hand-me-down-SUV-slash-motherwagon, and a bag of chips and soda on the passenger’s seat. The plan is to get moving, reach the shore in a couple of hours and make it back before it gets dark. I will bring my journal with me, binge on junk, and stare out into the sea with the liftgate as the roof over my head and hopefully a stray dog for company.

So yeah.

I am boring.

I leave three text messages anyway, for those in my Top Three Most Important People In My Life list, who have recently ascended up the ranks by default, simply because the Love Of My Life TM, is no longer in it. 

I’ll be out. Be back my midnight, I tell my sister. 

Borrowing the car. I’ll be safe. Driving over to Baekhyun’s, I tell my dad. 

And of course, for my one and only best friend: Let’s go SuperM! Dear leader, told dad I’m driving to your place. Please don’t kill me. I just need to be at my usual spot. I’ll be safe. I promise. Enjoy your tour!

And after a couple of hours preparing and getting my shit together, my eyes are finally dry enough from all the crying. I have my favourite rain jacket on, just in case, and my journal. With my last ritual stop being the nearby convenience store, I know that I will be well on my way to the beach in a few minutes.

It’s a little funny how the thunderstorm has cleared, right when I finally decide to leave the house and head out of the driveway. So much for being reckless. Still, the skies are adequately grey, perfectly sympathising with my sentiments.  

Also, why do they play sappy love songs on the radio at this hour?

I leave the radio on anyway, telling myself that I have to get used to this whole self-partnered concept. Well, for the record, it’s been about six hours into this and all I can say is that it sucks. I miss my stupid, good for nothing, ex. That’s normal, right?

Biting my lower lip, I pull up at the parking space, making sure that my brokenness and frustrations do not reach my eyes once again. Thinking of nothing but the tantalising image of the bag of Lays that I am to devour in a couple of hours, I head straight into the store, the comforting sound of door chimes signalling my entrance. I grab an extra bottle of Mountain Dew just in case, as well as a Snickers bar. And a bag of m&m’s. And a can of Dr. Pepper. And another bag of cookies.

What?

Nobody will see, save for the kind lady by the counter. What’s there to be ashamed about? I am a brokenhearted girl. That means I deserve it. That, and I’m unstoppable.

In about ten minutes, the chimes sound once again, and I am out, running back to the car even before I grab more than what I can actually eat.

“Ya ya ya, slow down!”

The startled voice is too easily recognised. I whirl around, a giant bag of salt and carbohydrates in hand, and am faced by Park Chanyeol, frozen in place with an outstretched hand.

First of all, why am I not surprised? Second of all, I already know too well, what this conversation is going to be all about.

“What a weather to be up and about. Always a busy one, our YN.”

Right. The weather. What a perfect conversation starter. And did he just say our YN? A pout grows on my lips when he comes closer. This can’t be good. 

“I could say the same and have you explaining to me, you know.”

“If it gets rid of this,” he says, and presses a light finger on the wrinkled skin between my brows, “then I will tell you that our radio show got cancelled because of the storm. The station’s just couple of blocks down this street.”

Too bad for him, I’m not easily convinced. “So you’re down here, actually buying something for yourself?”

“And I can’t?”

I close my eyes, unsure if engaging in our usual banter will help nurse my broken spirit. “Don’t you have personal assistants to get you stuff when you need them?”

His shrug makes me even more suspicious. “It’s rare to have the streets empty. You know we don’t get this chance whenever we want.”

Celebrities. Right. Sometimes, I forget. My mind travels back to the time when I went with Baekhyun and his brother to catch a movie on a Sunday night. That will never happen again.

“Look, I don’t want to be blunt or anything, but…” Chanyeol comes even closer – close enough for me to smell his perfume. He must have emptied a bottle over his head.

“But …what?” I watch him take a deep breath and pause. The movement of his lips is subtle, but I don’t miss it. It’s like he’s carefully choosing his words but he eventually gives up after a few tries. Now that’s a sigh.

“Were you crying,” he says instead.

Is this guy serious? It does not even sound like a question. “Are you asking because you’re not sure?”

“It’s just your eyes. The skin around it, actually. It’s bugging out, kind of. You cried a lot, didn’t you?”

Bugging out, huh? When I don’t answer, he gets it. I hope he does.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. Call me stupid.” Now he’s frantically raising both hands in front of me as if to defend himself. The heck. I’m not going to punch him or anything.

“Damn it. Forget I asked,” he says, when I stay quiet more out of confusion than anything else. It makes him look up into the sky, muttering something that sounds very much like goddammit said over and over. He does this while he rakes at his hair with both hands and it lasts too long to be a simple show of frustration.

What now? It makes me look up too.

Just clouds. Just nothing, really.

When I glance back at him, his eyes are now screwed shut. It takes a few seconds before he finishes his deep breaths and slowly stuffs both of his hands inside the front pockets of his jeans.

Jesus, Chanyeol, quit weirding me out.

“Um, hey?”

It’s like summoning his consciousness back to earth. “Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…” He purses his lips to the side, looking thoughtful and possibly, forcing that crooked smile. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, Look, listen, I am going somewhere.” I almost laugh when I answer. Look? Listen? What’s he being so nervous about? He doesn’t need to hide anything – they would not stand a chance. I know that Baekhyun sent him. Cut the shit. I’ll be fine. You can enjoy the rest of your day. Thank you very much.

I wave him off. “Stop pretending, Chanyeol. You know already.”

“Yah! You don’t understand, YN. I just want to know…” He looks at me sheepishly, if not stuttering. “Is there beer in that bag?”

The drink did not even make it to my Reckless Afternoon shopping list. It makes me shake my head and sigh. “What can I say? I’m a terminal case of boring.”

What I said makes Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. “That’s loaded. Wanna talk about it?”

Nope. So I cross my arms, fake indifference, and change the topic. “Did Baekhyun send you? Cause if you’re here to stop me, that’s his job. Not yours.”

One side of his lips rise – a sign that a smile is starting to ease in. He gets it. That topic’s off limits and he goes along with it. “Baekhyun…” he starts, tilting his head in thought. “He said that you would be here, yes. But as for coming here, that’s on my own volition.”

I’m sure. I snort. “Obviously, you wouldn’t let him force you.”

“Obviously,” he says back. And then nothing else.

He just flashes a perfect smile and stares meaningfully into my eyes making my brain short circuit. I don’t know what he means. My eyes refuse to process such sensory input.

Stop this, Chanyeol. Stop this now.

“What I’m saying is that this is Baekhyun’s job,” I explain, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not your responsibility. So why don’t you go and do your musician stuff?”

“Hmm… YN, it’s like this…”

I just know that I’m fucked whenever Chanyeol switches gears and transforms into the argumentative version of himself. “If your best friend feels responsible for you, then I feel responsible for my best friend. The line of responsibility can extend as far as it can go. I can even send my mom over here to watch over you, if you won’t let me.”

By experience, I know that I could argue for an entire afternoon. However, also by experience, I know Chanyeol to be the type to argue until much later in the morning. Long conversation short, I’m stuck in a hopeless situation. “Baekhyun’s right. There’s no reasoning with you, sometimes.”

And it’s clear to him that he’s won. That grin is him, claiming his prize. “That’s because I’m bright, people say.”

“You can’t stop me though. My mind’s set.” It’s a promise.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do that.”

I blink. Then what’s this all about?

“Leave your car here”, he says. “I’m just here to take you there.”

And my best friend’s best friend never takes never for an answer. I’m not even surprised that Chanyeol knows the way to my favourite place. That is how I end up falling asleep, smelling his strong perfume, with the sound of the road flying beneath the wheels of his car.

💙💙💙 - end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios #chanyeol scenario

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy: Pt. 2

We have a title.

A/N: No full-on fucking, but plenty of smut. Honestly, I would NOT show this to my mother. Half the length of the last one, so I’m getting *slightly* better at being concise. Does contain promiscuity, self-loathing and self-esteem issues. Picks up exactly where Pt.1  left off.

Why were you so bothered by him? You’d done plenty of fucking and sucking during the post-snap years, taking what you wanted and giving nothing of yourself in return. Running away to the next town, the next shitty job when anybody got too close for comfort. You’d loved and you’d lost and you didn’t want to go through that again, ever.

But that feeling in your stomach wasn’t yesterday’s beer.

It was something worse.

It was actual feelings, emotions.

You liked him. Not in a purely platonic way, and not in a purely lustful way. You weren’t sure you had the strength for this but you had to address it, whatever this was, or your employment situation would rapidly become untenable. Just as a wound will fester if it’s left, skirted flirtations and unsaid feelings tend to poison a relationship. Especially when the feelings are one-sided. Time to be brave, be bold. Rip the plaster off quickly before the pain can set in.

You finished lolling on the bed, flinging yesterday’s clothes back on. You’d worry about a change of underwear later. Thor was already in position, fixated by his game, so you moved past him and headed straight to the kitchen. You ripped open the box of frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts, shoving them in the toaster. If Thor was paying any attention to you, he’d probably wonder what you were angry about. You weren’t angry, or at least only angry at your own heart for being a little traitor. You were a tightly wound coil of nervous energy. The toaster couldn’t pop up quick enough. When it finally did, you startled a little. Oh, for fuck’s sake, you thought to yourself. Get a grip, you’re not 12. You threw the sugary snacks onto a plate and began your advance.

Thor finally noticed you when you were around a foot away.

“Good morning, y/n,” he said, removing a hand from the controller to take the plate from you.

The movement of his arm was enough to give you an opening. You slid past his outstretched hand and onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, as you placed the Pop-Tarts on the arm of the settee.

Good question, you thought. If you go for a hat-trick of startling Thor into swift escapes, you’re going to go flying. It was an odd dichotomy thinking about how this gentle giant, who only displayed kindness and shyness to you, could if he wanted, send you hurtling into the next room without breaking a sweat.

“We need to talk,” you said, holding onto the back of the settee, one hand either side of Thor’s head.

“About what?”

“I know you caused that storm on purpose to keep me here last night.”

You tried to meet his gaze but he couldn’t look at you. He was ashamed that you’d caught him so easily.

“I’m not angry, if you want me to stay, you can just ask. What I want to know is this: what is going on? Because it looks like you want to be more than just my friend but then you run away whenever I initiate contact.”

“I…” Thor can’t find any words to say. His cheeks feel hot, they must be the same shade as his cape. He could get out of this situation if he wanted to but apparently, his body doesn’t want him to, so it just stays there, rooted to the cushions he wishes would swallow him whole. Over a thousand years old and he’s completely flummoxed by a Midgardian woman sitting on his lap.

“I don’t think you’d want me,” he eventually forces out.

“What makes you say that?”

His only response is a vague gesture, controller still in hand, to his stomach.

“I’m not going to beat about the bush unless that’s what you’re into,” you say with a smirk. “You’re hot and I want to make out with you. But if that’s not what you want, that’s fine.”

Thor finally looks up at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look so confused. It’s like your words have short-circuited his brain. He’s just frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

This was not the reaction you’d hoped for. It’s neither a yes nor a no. You decide to try a different approach.

Your hands move down to the hem of your top, pulling it up and over your head before you discard it on the rug at Thor’s feet.

“You don’t have to do this, y/n,” he says, trying to look anywhere but at your breasts. He knows he won’t be able to contain his arousal and you’re practically sat on top of it already.

“I know I don’t. I’m doing it because I want to. I want you to look, I want you to feel me.” Your hands return to their grip on the back of the settee. You lean forward, arching your back so that the end of his braided beard is tickling your skin just above the edge of your bra cups.

Thor lets out a small, frustrated noise. You’re making this hard for him, in more ways than one. Yes, he wants to look at you, to feel you, to kiss you. But the fear is there, that despite what you’ve said, you’ll somehow find him lacking. It takes all of his strength to squash that thought and turn his face to you. Or more accurately, to your cleavage.

His nose settles between your breasts. He closes his eyes and settles there. You’re warm and welcoming, he can hear your heart hammering away as hard as his own. You smell faintly of oakwood absolute from the bath yesterday and he inhales deeply, trying to calm himself. You loop a hand into his hair, trying to encourage him to keep going. He finally lets go of the controller and moves his hands to your hips to steady you.

Thor explores gently, at first, pressing tickly kisses to your chest, inching slowly up to your collarbone. At the hollow of your neck is where his kisses become fiercer. His hands move to your back, pulling him to him, and he nips and sucks insistently at your neck. He takes your gasps and moans as approval, biting hard on both sides before moving up to your ears. His hot breath makes you gasp his name and sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the hairs on your bare arms standing on end. You bring the hand not in his hair to cup his chin, guiding him towards your lips.

His facial hair is scratchy and a little tickly, but you don’t care. You’re glad to finally be making that connection. His lips are soft, pink and plump, like marshmallows, and just as sweet. Your tongue tests the seam of his lips and he lets you in, taking you deeply. It’s been a long time since you experienced a kiss like this, potent with passion from both sides. Thor is running his hands along your back, pressing you into him with a sense of urgency. Your hands are wandering, caressing his cheek and pulling his hair. He returns the favour, lacing his fingers through your locks, pressing you into him. The kisses are getting sloppy and you don’t care. Thor unclips your bra with surprising deftness.

You pull away from him and shrug the straps off, exposing yourself to him. The t-shirt bra, worn for comfort rather than seduction joins your top on the floor.

A rumbling growl escapes his lips as he takes you in. He knows he should feel a bit ashamed of the state he’s left your neck, the deep damson red mottling your skin like a series of wine stains. But he can’t feel ashamed, not now. He grabs hold of your thighs and stands up, carrying you like you weigh nothing. The plate of Pop-Tarts crashes to the floor.

You wrap yourself around him as best you can, you know he can support you but it’s instinctual to grip his sides with your thighs, limbs tangling up him like vines climbing up an oak.

He lowers you gently onto the bed and lays down beside you, the tip of his nose touching yours. Neither of you wants to make the first move. You’re making progress and you don’t want to ruin it. Thor, for his part, isn’t sure how to proceed. He wants to take you but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s changed since the last time he was intimate with another.

You giggle at him and give him a swift peck, bringing him back to the here and now. Your hand slips down to his crotch and you’re pleased to find him already hard. Pleased and a little concerned. Your quip about men with big feet appears to be true. You run your hand up and down over his jogging bottoms. He gasps in surprise and pulls you to him for another kiss. You increase the pressure on his erection incrementally until he can’t stand it any longer.

“I need to get out of these damn clothes,” he huffed, yanking down the constricting garments and freeing his hard-on.

“Fuck me,” you gasped as you caught a glimpse of it. This was by no means the first cock you’d seen, but it was certainly the biggest. It made sense you reasoned, the rest of him was long and girthy, so why not this bit? You hoped he wasn’t the kind who thought a big dick was all you needed. That’d be a disappointment if he was a thrust-until-he-came guy, without any regard for your needs.

“Well, I mean, I think that’s the plan,” Thor laughed nervously in response.

You decided to match him and shuffled out of your jeans, hoping he hadn’t noticed how damp your knickers already were. Thor slipped off his cardigan but his top remained in place.

“C’mon Thor, let me see you. All of you,” you urged him, reaching for the hem of his top. “If I’m letting you see my thunder thighs, I should be able to see your tummy.”

“Your what? Thunder thighs?” he laughed, deflecting the conversation away from himself. Your thighs look lovely to him, he can’t wait to get between them. The little marks look like fingers of lightning but other than that, he can’t understand the reference to thunder.

“You know, chunky thighs that rub together when you walk. Look at them, they look like hams.”

“They do not. And even if they did, ham is great. It’d just make me want to eat them more.”

“You can’t eat my legs,” you laughed, tugging at his t-shirt.

“Oh? Is that so?” he smirked, diving towards your lap, biting, sucking, kissing all over your thighs. “You said they were thunder thighs. I’m the god of thunder so they’re my thighs now. And I want to eat them.”

“No, no,” you said, pushing his head away. “Not until you’re undressed.”

With a pout and a sigh, he turned around and pulled off his top, letting it drop by the side of the bed. He could see himself in the full-length mirror. He’d forgotten that even existed, having long since let it be buried under layers of dust. The only thing he’d used it for in years was for draping his cape over when he couldn’t be bothered to hang it properly. Apparently, you’d unearthed it and cleaned it up. How had he not noticed that? He supposed he was so used to everything being a mess that he’d tuned it out, didn’t even bother to look in that corner anymore.

You, too, could see him in the mirror. You saw him frown and poke himself in his soft stomach. Standing slowly, you walked in front of him to stand between him and the mirror.

“Thor. I know you don’t like what you see but I do. Let me touch you. Please?”

He grumbled a little but lay back. You still hadn’t run away so you either did find him attractive or were doing this out of pity.

You laid down next to him, stroking his hair. It was much softer than it had been before you washed it. You nuzzled into the side of his neck, nibbling and kissing at him. Not as hard as he’d done it to you, but with enough of a bite to let him know you were there. A long, drawn-out ‘Oh’ spilt from his lips, encouraging you to be rougher. Your hand moved from his hair, stroking his cheek and his neck, before landing on his chest. Spreading your fingers through the hair, you moved close to his nipple but not quite enough to arouse him, yet. He moans as you leave your mark on him, a deep bruise to rival the ones he gave you.

With sloppy kisses and sharp bites, your mouth trailed down to his chest and his pert nipples. Based on his reaction yesterday, you knew he was going to like this. You flicked your tongue over the one nearest to you, while your index finger lazily circled the other.

Thor could barely breathe. Was he dying? Was this Valhalla? He didn’t know, he just didn’t want you to stop. He hoped his breathy moans and guttural groans were letting you know just how much he was enjoying it.

The tongue on his nipple was replaced by your lips sucking, the finger circles intensifying when you changed from the pad of your finger to the tip of your nail. Just as he was beginning to get himself under control, you kicked it up a notch again. You bit his nipple just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure and pain through him, your fingers tweaking and twisting the other.

Were all Midgardian women like this? If they were, he’d been missing out. No. Wait. Jane hadn’t been like this. He was so lost in the feel of your mouth on him, he didn’t even mind when your fingers danced away and landed on his stomach.

Your mouth soon followed, kissing all over. He hadn’t realised how sensitive his stomach was now and how good it felt as you worshipped him. He even managed to laugh as your nose dipped into his navel. You took him in hand so you could continue kissing down his soft underbelly.

Thor could barely contain himself. He could feel your hot breath against his cock as your lips pressed down everywhere but there. This was the most delightful torture, he wanted to be inside you so badly but he wasn’t going to force you to do anything. You clearly knew what you were doing and had made it your personal mission to tease him until he could no longer focus on anything else.

He parted his thighs a little as your hungry mouth travelled further down his body. One hand remained rubbing his cock, while with the other you began raking your nails down his inner thigh. Oh Norns, if he’d thought the rest of him was sensitive to your touch, he inner thigh surpassed it all. He tried to tell you that it was too much, that he couldn’t hold on, but then you started sucking a deep love bite on his thigh and that was it.

His legs trembled violently beneath you and you heard him gasping curses. You realised too late what you’d set in motion and looked up in time to see him coating his rounded tummy with cum. He was certainly a sight to behold, sticky, sweaty and smiling, covered in the marks of your affection.

You sat back and licked him off your fingers. Warm, salty, and satisfyingly savoury. Like liquid umami, it had you wanting another taste. For a moment you toyed with this idea of licking him clean, before concluding that might perturb him.

The smile soon turned to a frown, his brow furrowed as he realised quite what had happened.

“Oh Norns, I’m so sorry y/n. I’m not normally like that, you have my word. What you were doing felt so good and it’s been so long and I just couldn’t stop and…”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” you tried to reassure him, seeing the panic, the disappointment, in his eyes.

“But I’ve let you down…”

“No, no you haven’t. I’m pleased to have had that effect on you. We’ve got plenty of time to explore each other. For now, you look like you need a cuddle.” You moved to sit with your back to the headboard. “C’mere. Please?” You patted the bed next to you.

Thor hauled himself onto his elbows and shuffled up to you, trying not to get his spunk on the bedding. He felt ridiculous, covered in his own seed, traitorous cock resting limply against his thigh. But you’re right. He needs a cuddle. Wants a cuddle. So he rests his head on your chest and lets you wrap your arms around him. At some point, he’ll let you use him as a cushion but he’s feeling a little broken and like he’s failed you. It’s like being a teenager again and having no control over himself.

“May I ask you something?” you said, as you ran your hand down his still muscular bicep.

“Certainly.”

“How long has it been?”

“A long time. Before the snap, before Asgard fell,” he replied with a sigh. “I was too busy, trying to fight, to protect. Not that it mattered.”

“It mattered, of course it did.”

“And then since the snap, nobody’s wanted me.”

“Nobody wanted you or nobody was allowed to get close?”

“Both, I suppose. I could’ve demanded, as their king, that somebody lay with me but that’s not right. You shouldn’t force people into doing things because they think it’s their duty. I might only have one real eye, but I’m not blind. I see how people look at me. They don’t see any of the good things I’ve done. They just see a fat, stupid drunk. A joke who can’t run a bath let alone a kingdom. A failure who should’ve gone for the head.”

His voice is cracking and the tears are falling onto your breast.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok,” you try to soothe. “I know how it feels to hate yourself. I know your brain is telling you otherwise but that’s not all people think of you. It’s not what I think of you. People’s memories aren’t so short that they forget everything else you’ve done. One mistake - and it was a mistake, how were you supposed to know? - doesn’t erase everything else. You’ve done more good since you became an Avenger than most people could manage in a hundred lifetimes. I like you. Nothing I’ve seen so far has made me think anything less of you.”

“But I’m not the man I used to be,” he sniffled.

“Thor, none of us are who we used to be. That’s how we grow as people. After everything that’s happened, I’d be concerned if you hadn’t changed a bit.”

“But you know what I used to be like.”

“Only in the sense that I knew what you looked like in news footage. I didn’t know you. But I’d like to.”

You pulled him closer to you, rubbing his arm, hoping that you’re making some small dent in just how crap he feels.

“Thank you,” he mumbled after a while.

“For what?”

“For how you treated me. I’ve been so scared and ashamed to touch myself since...everything. But I really enjoyed that.”

I could tell, you thought, but had enough not common sense not to say it.

“I understand. When my depression is at its worst, I don’t have any desire to be intimate. By myself or with anyone. And if it does somehow happen, it’s just going through the motions. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean just that. My whole body, how you took the time to lavish attention everywhere. Nobody’s done that before. Not even when I was attractive.”

“You’re attractive now. Honestly. I wouldn’t be here, naked on your bed if I wasn’t attracted to you.”

“Well, no. I guess not,” he admitted.

“And I’ll just have to keep smothering you with kisses until you believe me. Besides,” you added with a grin, “aren’t us mortals supposed to worship gods like you?”

This makes him laugh. A full, booming belly laugh that makes him jiggle all over.

“I think we should get you cleaned up and see if I can give you some more adoration, I think I missed some bits.”

That’s the best idea Thor’s heard in a long time.

@morganhoran1671 As promised, here it is.

#thor #Thor Odinson #fat thor #endgame thor #thicc thor #squishy thor #soft thor #chubby thor #dark 'n' stormy #reader insert #Female reader #avengers x reader #reader x thor #x reader

[sleepy-and-anxious]

WIP Questions tag game

*strolls into the spotlight and taps the microphone* yo- Does this thing work? 

Sup my dudes! So guess whos back doing a tag game that isn’t a last line tag for the first time since *checks watch* like august 2018? This bitch. 

I’ve been tagged for this one so many times that my brain short circuited and I can’t for the life of me remember who’s tagged me. Most recently though was the lovely af @cohldhands and the sweetest @chalky-charlie welp im sorry everyone else that i’ve forgotten ily 

I’m going to answer these for Good For Something (because I can’t remember if i’ve done this before)

rules: answer the questions, then tag some people.

1: Describe the plot in one sentence

A good-for-nothing Common’s delinquent is payed good money to assassinate a known Noble murderer, and fails only to discover a not so secret world of magic, abilities, demons and platonic soulmates.   

2: Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your WIP.

Sight: Flickering neon signs illuminating foggy alleyways  

Smell: Gasoline 

Sound: Sirens and gunshots

Feel: The sharp edge of shattered glass 

Taste: The first sip of black coffee

3: Which 3+ songs would make a playlist for your novel?

I wont use any songs on my actual gfs playlist but i’ll give you some new ones

 dead af - Krewella 

What’s Up Danger (with Black Caviar) 

Stronger - The Score 

Triggered - Chase Atlantic 

My Blood - Twenty One Pilots 

Leave a Light On - Tom Walker

4: What’s the time period and location in which your novel takes place?

GFS is set on a fantasy continent named the God’s Continent. GC is split in half with the north being a country called Noble and the south being a country called Commons. 30 years prior to GFS commons fell to Noble rule officially. Nobody bellow the border respects it. Noble are more traditionalist in nature, content to their rural life and ‘old fashioned values’. Common’s prefers innovation, technology and crime to get by. 

Good For Something is primarily set in South Commons City. Not a very nice place, really.  

5: Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

Before I decided on GFS, the working title was just “The Call of The Void” after the phenomenon of l’appel du vide which is basically like the phenomena of intrusive thoughts which are like “Oh this is so high up I could jump off this ledge” or “I could steer my car straight into traffic right now, huh?” but when someone isn’t actually suicidal. They’re usually random and fleeting thoughts. Its also called HPP (the high place phenomenon). Its a pretty cool concept that I thought related well to GFS.  

I also found it pretty cool bc in GFS there are these people called Voidians who worship the void element. Most of em are dead. Most. 

But yeah, I decided against it. Occasionally I still refer to it as The Call of The Void quartet or series. 

6: What’s the first line of your novel?

“I woke up in a puddle of my own vomit to the sound of sirens and gunshots.” 

7: What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of? 

I stole this from a last line tag i did but i do love this scene!!!! 

8: Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“I ran out of second chances long ago.“ 

"You’ll never run out of chances so long as there are people still willing to give them.”

9: Who are your character(s) face claims?

I have too many character in GFS to put them all here but you can find face claim photos for my main cast on my wip page. 

I can give you Ciel and August though bc I have the pics saved on my desktop! 

Ciel: Erika Linder 

August: Liam Aiken 

10: Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses. 

Ciel: Slytherin 

August: Slytherin 

Trainor: Hufflepuff 

Kruse: Ravenclaw 

Blood: Gryffindor 

11: Which character’s name do you like the most?

Tbh I love Hepton the best purely because I made it up when I was 11 and never changed it lmfao. 

12: Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Ciel: Hoodies, sports bras, sweatpants, baseball cap 

August: Button down shirt, ripped jeans, leather jacket. Or house uniform: maroon blazer, black tie, black trousers

Trainor: His house uniform - blue blazer, black tie, black trousers

Kruse: His house uniform - white blazer, black tie, black trousers 

Blood: Her house uniform - white blouse, maroon pinafore dress. 

13: Do any characters have any distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Ciel has a fuck load of tattoos, and kinda collects scars and scrapes over the course of the books. 

August has lots of healed self harm scars on his forearms. 

Trainor has a birth mark on his knee. 

Kruse has nothing. 

Blood’s fingers permanently looked dipped in ink because of her curse (power)  

14: Which character most fits a character trope?

Trainor fits the Dumb Thot comic relief trope on the surface level but he’s so much more than that and i love him 

15: Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Kruse is the best writer, but in an academic sense. Cube or Saintly would be the best writers in a creative sense. 

16: Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Arguably, Ciel is simultaneously the best and worst liar. 

17: Which character swears the most? Least?

Ciel and August fight for the title of who has the worst potty mouth. Blood and Kruse never swear. 

18: Which character has the best writing? Worst?

Blood and August have the prettiest handwriting. Train and Ciel’s handwriting is illegible. 

19: Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

This is a difficult one. I’d say im most likely a mixture between Bryn, Ari and Blood. Like... partial sweet bean, partial mom friend but also takes no shit and drinks too much iced coffee.  

20: Which character would you most like to be?

None of them, theyre all deeply flawed and stupid idiots but I love them. But, I don’t think i’d want to be any of them lmfao. 

Yay!!! Done!!!! I hope ya’ll enjoyed if you read it to the end! 

I’m going to tag @carrotgirl-1 @notanotherhour @elonanwrites @atinydino @elliewritesstories @chaos-reign @shireduchess @yuutfa @zielenheil (No pressure if you don’t want to or have already done it! uwu I wanna hear ya’ll talk about ur stuff ily) 

#tag game #writeblr #wip #work in progress #good for something

[coffeeandcas]

So @loudenswainfangirl gave me this prompt for my tropes series: “how about a Benny/Dean pairing in a cop/detective story? Could lead to a hurt/comfort. Just a thought.” 

And, almost 10k words later, this is what I came up with... (Warnings: Dom/Sub play, bondage, sub drop.) AO3 link right here.

Dean Winchester’s sassy, arrogant, over-confident swagger lasts the entire way from the front door to the water cooler: all of ten feet. As he reaches for a plastic cup, parched and dying for a drink thanks to the mid-July Louisiana sun, a voice booms out across the room and his hand freezes in midair. Shit. Oh, shit. What has he done now?

“Winchester? Winchester! Where the hell is he? There you are, boy, where the hell have you been? Don't you know to come when you hear ya damn name?” The Deputy has a low, smooth, rumbling type of voice which is normally cool and charming, just the right side of pleasant. But now? Now it's loaded with ire an directed right at Dean. “Get here, boy. Now.”

Everyone is staring. Absolutely everyone. Every pair of eyes is on him, and Dean gets the feeling they all know something he doesn't. He turns to see Deputy Lafitte standing in the door to his office, glowering in his direction and looking thunderous. The whine he was building up to of ‘but Sir, I'm about to clock off’ dies in his throat as he sees the man’s normally calm demeanour has vanished and, instead, he radiates fury. Oh crap. Seriously, what has he done this time? This is only his third week and already he's had two ass-whoopings. A third ain't going to look so good on his record. He hangs his head and walks like a man condemned, feeling the gaze of every other officer, detective and technician on him like spotlights. The Deputy waits until he's safely inside the confines of the small, sparsely decorated office before closing the door firmly and crossing the room to take his place at his desk. Dean stands, nervous but trying valiantly to keep his mask of confidence in place, and goes for a smile.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Sit yourself down, Winchester. Now. And drop the charm, I ain't bitin’.” The Deputy’s voice is slow and drawling, and he's leaning back in his chair to watch every move Dean makes as he sits down in the chair indicated to him.

“Have I… done something? Boss?” It's a failed attempt at sweetening the mood, and Deputy Benny Lafitte sees straight through it. Lord knows this isn't the first impudent, freshly-graduated kid he's had stroll through his doors thinking he knows it all. Dean has heard plenty of stories from the other guys about new kids on the block only lasting a week or two. He so very badly doesn't want to be another name to add to that list. He sits up a little straighter and tries to tidy himself up; polite, slightly nervous smile plastered on, hands together in his lap… he's pulling every trick he knows. And by the narrowed eyes and raised brow of his Deputy, Lafitte isn't falling for it, not for a single second.

“Where's your report on the Collins case?” Benny asks him quietly, almost casually, and Dean’s stomach drops into his boots. Oh fuck. The Collins case is high-profile and he had been over the moon to be allowed to tag along with it. Two senior officers, Detectives Mills and Bradbury had been in charge of the homicide investigation and had grudgingly allowed Dean to write up part of their report. The report that was due an hour ago. And where has he left it?

“Um. It's on my desk at home, boss. But I can go get it right now, I'll only be a half hour-”

“Stop.” Deputy Lafitte raises a hand, palm facing Dean, and shakes his head in apparent despair. “Why is it on your desk at home and not on my desk in front of my nose?”

“Because… I… um…” Dean doesn't have an answer. He stares down at his hands, feeling his cheeks flush, humiliated. He's angry and disappointed in himself for forgetting something so elementary, and the Deputy is now angry and disappointed in him, too. Great.

Deputy Lafitte sighs and pushes his chair back from the desk. “Stand up, Dean.” He does, nervously. The look in Benny’s eyes is familiar, and it sends a spark of excitement pulsing through him, tangling up with his disappointment in himself and nervousness over what might happen to him.

The Deputy moves behind him and Dean tenses, heart in his throat. A warm hand comes to the back of his neck then moves down, fingers light along his spine.

“What am I gonna do with you, Dean?” Warm breath caresses his ear and Dean shivers. “You gotta learn, boy, to get yourself organised. I ain't chasin’ ya, and neither is anyone else. Got it?”

Dean nods, and a second later Benny’s hand comes down sharply on his ass and he lets a yelp slip out. “Sorry, boss. Yes, boss. I got it.”

“Good. You fuck up again, and I hear about it? I'll beat your ass until you can't sit down, you get me?” Dean nods frantically, trying valiantly to ignore the pulse of heat that goes straight to his groin at the suggestion. “Now, when will I see that report?”

“First thing tomorrow, boss.” Dean is staring straight ahead, body a firm line of tension as Benny steps in closer, right up into his personal space. Then his arm is taken and he's spun around to face the Deputy, and the look in his eyes is very different now.

“Good. Now, I got a question for you, cher.” Benny backs Dean up against the wall, raising one arm to rest by Dean’s head, effectively boxing him in with his body. “I'll give you a choice. When you leave my office, this conversation is over. You've been slapped on the wrist: it needn't go further than that, and hopefully you've learned your lesson about turnin’ in your reports on time. I clock off in fifteen, you clock off in thirty: I can either take you out for dinner and you can tell me about your third week working here over a bottle of wine, then we can go back to your place for… dessert.” Dean’s breathing accelerates as Benny’s voice lowers, and he feels his body respond to the Deputy’s suggestion. Yes, that sounds incredible. “Or…” Oh. He likes the sound of or. “You come over to my place as soon as your shift ends, and I can… drive today’s lesson home, so to speak. Punish you for your mishap, and make sure you don't commit a repeat offence.” Benny leans in close, pressing his whole body up against Dean, and the heat between them is building rapidly. Dean’s heart is pounding in his ears. “I wanna scene with you, boy. Remind you who you belong to and what's expected of you.” He kisses Dean then, on the mouth, firm but sweet. “But it's up to you, cher. I want whatever you want. You know that.”

Old words float to the forefront of Dean’s mind: The sub holds the power, sugar. One word from you, and everythin’ stops. You're in control here, not me. He swallows, hard, allowing Benny to kiss him again as his body responds in excitement.

“Would you just be happy with just dinner, though?” Dinner and dessert, of course. He murmurs into the Deputy’s mouth and Benny sighs, pulling back.

“Don't insult me, sugar. You know I want you for more than your body.”

Dean nods; he does know. He just forgets sometimes. I want whatever you want. It's true, Benny would be happy with either choice Dean makes. It's up to him. Does he want romance? Or punishment…? He's about to answer when Benny presses a gentle finger to his lips to quiet him.

“Don't decide now. Go back to your desk, and think about it.” He leans in again; Benny’s mouth brushes Dean’s ear, and a full-body shiver runs down his spine. His next words make Dean’s mouth run dry and his brain short-circuits.

“All I need to know is whether you want me in a dinner jacket tonight… Or in leather…”

*

He doesn't have a clue what to expect tonight as he pulls up outside Benny’s sprawling two-storey house on the outskirts of town. Sometimes when he goes there, the scene starts as soon as he steps through the door, while other times they will chat and discuss what Benny has planned and Dean will add or subtract anything he has an opinion on. Today? Today he has no idea what awaits him inside the comfort of Benny’s home.

They've been seeing each other for months. They met while Dean was still at the Academy, and had hooked up a few days later. A week after that they started dating and in the months that followed Benny introduced him more and more to the world of BDSM, something Dean had little familiarity with. His trust in Benny is implicit, because they're more than just Deputy and Officer. More than just fuck buddies. There are feelings between them, usually unspoken and left to burn gently under the heat of their passion, but they both know they're there. Dean feels it in Benny’s kisses, in the way he's so gentle with him after a scene, and in the way he holds his hand while they walk together into the precinct some mornings. He hopes he conveys it right back to Benny in soft smiles and even softer embraces, things he isn't familiar with and hasn't done before. Well, that was before Benny.

He gets out of the car and locks it, heading for the door and attempting to keep his nerves at bay. Although he trusts Benny with his life, he’s always anxious before a scene. Nervous that he won't be good enough or that he’ll fuck up. Worried that this is the time Benny will decide he doesn't want him any more and ask him to leave. But that's part of why they scene: when Dean is lost to pleasure and submission, he forgets all about the self-doubt and anxiety that plagues him on the daily, and just lets himself feel. He can be himself in those moments, can enjoy what he used to think was forbidden, and knows he's safe in Benny’s care. Benny knows too, knows that Dean is insecure and vulnerable and hides it all under a mask of bravado, which probably explains why he goes out of his way afterwards to take care of him, and make him feel cherished and valued. Dean can't lie: the aftercare is sometimes his favourite part. Lying quietly in Benny’s strong arms while his mind is calm and still, while it's dark outside and it feels like they're the only people awake in the world, is one of his favourite things. He wishes he knew how to have it that way always.

He doesn't have to knock. The door opens before he can raise his fist, and Benny takes his hand to draw him inside and then they're kissing against the closed door. The kisses are slow, deep, languid, and Benny’s hands gently explore his waistline and caress up his back. His shirt is damp with sweat, the Louisiana heat still high at the end of the day, and he's sure he could do with a shower. He's also sure that the Deputy doesn't give a damn.

“Mmm, I've been looking forward to this, mon cher,” Benny breathes into his mouth. “I've missed tasting your mouth.”

“I'm sure I spent the night on Monday,” Dean’s mouth is released as Benny goes for his neck, and he clutches at the other man to hold him close. This is what he wants. Benny, near him and all over him, wanting him and desiring him. But this isn't quite what he deserves right now. He deserves to be punished for what he did. Almost as though he can read his thoughts, Benny pulls back and laughs low in his threat.

“Don't worry, sugar, we’ll get you there. Have a drink first. It's too hot out, don't want you dehydrated and passin’ out on me.”

They sip water out on the decking and Benny’s hand eventually comes to the small of Dean’s back, rubbing in gentle circles: a prelude to what's coming. One thing Dean craves during a scene is contact. Constantly being touched in one way or another, and if he's left alone too long without it he always starts to struggle. Benny knows this, and ever since a couple of bad incidents back when they first started scening and Dean hadn't known his own body and mind quite well enough, the man hasn't let him down once. You're too important to me, Dean, Benny had whispered to him once when they were lying on the edge of sleep in each other's arms. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. To keep you safe. I… He hadn't finished his sentence and Dean hadn't asked him to, but they both knew it was the closest Benny had come to saying the big L word. Neither of them have come close to it since then, but Dean is starting to want to. One day, he tells himself. One day, one day soon…

“How are you feelin’, Dean?” Benny continues to rub his back soothingly, his voice low and liquid, like melting honey. He only ever asks that if he's got an intense scene in mind, or if he's concerned Dean is going into it in the wrong headspace. Or, more often than not, both.

“I'm fine, sir.”

“No.” Benny’s other hand comes up and he taps Dean on the chin. “I'm not sir, not yet. This is just us, cher. You and me. I'll let you know when it's time.”

And he will, Dean knows it. He shouldn't have made that slip-up to begin with; Benny is still in his cop uniform from work, and he smiling gently at Dean and stroking his back. This isn't a scene, he's right, and it was stupid of him to say that. Another gentle tap on his chin shocks him, and he twists to see Benny watching him with a carefully schooled neutral expression.

“You sure you're fine? I won't do this if you're not.”

“I am.” Dean finishes his water and hands the bottle to Benny; it vanishes somewhere, somehow, and the warm hand never leaves his back. It's comforting, and he leans into the touch. “I promise. I want this.”

“And why are you here, Dean?” The Deputy’s voice is still gentle, probing. Seeking honesty. Honesty, right, Dean can do this. This question is easy.

“I'm here to be punished. For what I did, for forgetting the report. I'm here to learn my lesson.” Benny is quiet for a heartbeat too long, and Dean realises he's screwed up. That it was the wrong answer. He realises quickly what the right one is; his voice shakes a little as he supplies it. “I'm here because I chose it.”

“You did.” Benny leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And I hope you know I would have been happy goin’ for dinner, cher.”

“I know,” Dean whispers, leaning over hopefully for a kiss on the mouth; Benny obliges willingly. “But I wanted this. I wanted to play.”

“Did ya now?” Benny’s voice drops an octave and Dean’s whole body tingles. He's ready for them to start now, for their scene to begin. Thankfully, Benny seems to be on the same wavelength.

“Any new limits I should know about?” The hand on his back is insistent now, pulling him closer somehow even though Benny is right at his side. Dean smiles in spite of himself. Benny always asks him this, even if their last scene was only a few days ago. He once queried why, trying to tell the other man that he would let him know if anything changed, but had received a smile and a shake of the head in response. So he had changed tack, asking how long they need to be together before Benny stops asking, and the response had been, ‘when I've married you, sugar, and even then I'll probably still ask you’. The answer had shut Dean up then, and moments later Benny had shut him up properly for at least an hour by pushing him to his knees and pressing his cock past his lips and instructing him to practice his deep-throating skills. Dean had obliged, willingly. The memory makes him shift awkwardly, his dick perking up in interest.

“No. Nothing.” He allows himself to look up at Benny through dark lashes, hoping he looks sultry and desirable. “I want this. I need this; I need you to show me who's boss, and who I belong to.”

“Damn, boy, how did you get to be so perfect?” Benny’s hand comes to the back of his neck and he steps in, starting to kiss a gentle trail up the side of Dean’s neck. “Do you know your safe word?”

“Yes. Kansas.

“Good boy.” Benny kisses his temple. “Why did you choose that one, out of interest?”

“I don't know…” He closes his eyes and tilts his head, giving more access and enjoying the attention. But it's too much, too gentle. He doesn't want gentle right now, he wants…

“‘I don't know…’?”

“I don't know, sir.” And that's his cue. His command. Suddenly the air in the room changes and Dean's filled with a nervous thrill of excitement. Benny steps away and slaps his ass, hard.

“You were late, boy. By seven minutes. What's your excuse?”

“I left late, sir, and I…” No, wait, back up. That's not the right answer. Immediately contrite, he takes a deep breath and hangs his head. “I'm sorry, sir. I don't have an excuse.”

“So how should I handle this? Just ignore your tardiness, pretend it never happened? When I'm already punishing you for your lack of organisation?”

“No, sir. You should punish me. Please.” Dean feels his body respond to his own words; his jeans feel tighter at his groin and his temperature spikes along with his heart rate. Damn, he needs this so bad. Benny thinks for a moment before answering.

“What's seven multiplied by five?”

“Uhm…” Shit. Math isn't his strong point. “Thirty seven?”

“No.” Benny slaps his ass through his jeans again and Dean jerks at the impact. “It's thirty five. But we’ll go with your number: think you can take my hand thirty seven times?”

Yes, God yes. He loves being spanked by Benny, though he will never admit it out loud. There's something intensely erotic about being spread over the other man’s lap or being on his knees on the bed and having his ass spanked until it's cherry-red and throbbing. He loves feeling the low ache the following day. A good spanking can catapult him into subspace faster than anything else, and that's what he craves right now. The glorious sensation of letting go of his thoughts and worries and concerns, and just feeling. Letting Benny work his body over and give him exactly what he needs. He nods, then remembers the first rule Benny ever gave him: verbal answers, always, unless he's gagged - which they don't do often.

“Yes, sir. I can.”

“Good.” Benny squeezes the back of his neck gently and steps away. “Go upstairs, take your clothes off, lie on the bed on your stomach, and wait for me. Now, boy.”

Dean hadn't even realised he’d hesitated; he was too caught up in the look in Benny’s eyes, but now he moves quickly towards the stairs, heart pounding in anticipation and want, and he follows Benny’s instructions to the letter. He folds his clothes neatly, knowing he will likely be reprimanded if he just throws them anywhere, and lies down on his belly, head pillowed on his folded arms and legs just slightly spread. Just the way Benny likes him.

“Three rules tonight, boy.” Benny’s voice makes him jump; he had been drifting already, lost in the fantasies of what his dom plans to do to him. “One: verbal answers to everything. If you forget, I'll remind you once before ending the scene. Two: no swearin’. No curse words. Keep it PG, got it?” ‘Keep it PG’ - Dean almost laughs at how ironic that statement is, given what they're about to do. “Three: you get one orgasm tonight, and that's it. You can choose when you come, but if you go off the second I touch you don't expect me to give you another. You'll have to wait until the mornin’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean has to try valiantly not to sound too eager. He still wants to at least pretend he isn't utterly desperate for all of this; that pretence lasts all of thirty seconds until he turns to look at Benny and his mouth goes dry. He's not Deputy Lafitte any more nor is he Benny, Dean’s sort-of boyfriend. He's Dean’s dom, and Dean feels his body respond instantly to the sight of him standing at the foot of the bed, arms folded and an appraising expression on his face. Benny has on tight leather pants that he knows feel as soft as they look, coupled with a heavy leather belt. Dean’s cock, currently pinned beneath him, twitches and thickens at the possibility of being whipped with that belt. Benny also has on a harness that crossed his broad chest and accentuates his muscles, and the finishing touch is a pair of black leather gloves that Dean knows feel exquisite during a spanking. Fuck. Tonight is going to be one to remember, he can already feel it.

Benny approaches him slowly and runs a soothing hand up his spine; Dean arches into the touch and is pushed back down, firmly. “No, boy. You wait until you’re given a command. Until then, you don’t move.”

Chastised, Dean relaxes back onto the bed and closes his eyes, allowing Benny to slowly explore his body. His gloved hand touches him everywhere: from the nape of his neck down his back to the curve of his ass, caresses his thighs and runs feather-light down his calves to his feet. Then Benny takes hold of his hips with both hands and tugs gently. It’s an instruction, and Dean complies immediately, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and keeping his head hanging down between his shoulders. Benny whispers to him to close his eyes, then a soft strip of fabric comes to cover them and is tied snugly behind his head, blindfolding him. He’s asked for his colour and he gives it, green, so easily. He’s relaxed and so, so ready for more. Then his left hand is taken and moved out to the side, and he gets it. He’s supposed to mimic the movement with his right hand and he does, until his shoulders are pressing into the mattress and his face is buried in the pillow, arms stretched out to the side and ass up in the air, the perfect submissive pose for his dom. He hears Benny exhale in satisfaction, and his hands return to Dean’s skin, stroking and caressing and slowly working him into a pleasant haze of arousal.

“Do you need me to bind you, Dean?” The hand on his lower back is reassuring, stroking his skin lightly, and Benny leans down to whisper quietly to him. “Whatever you decide is the right answer.”

After a brief hesitation, Dean nods slowly into the sheets. “Yes, sir, please.”

“Why?” It's an affirmation and a question all in one, and it takes Dean a moment to answer.

“Because I want to be good for you… and stay still. And I don't know if I can without your help…” It's an honest answer, almost too honest. Both Dean and Benny are fully aware that if Dean wasn't blindfolded that his answer would likely have been very different; he struggles with honest over his wants and needs unless he's under Benny’s command, and even then his dom still checks in periodically. It's always been done this way, for as long as Dean can remember. It isn't that Benny doesn't trust Dean; he doesn't trust that Dean trusts himself.

“Alright. Your wish is my command.” The fingers on his back flatten to a whole, warm hand for just a moment. “I'll be right back. Sixty seconds, maximum.”

And he is. This time, he's back with a length of rope and Dean sighs as he feels it drag over his naked skin. Benny takes both his arms gently and pulls them behind his back, forcing his chest and face further into the mattress.

“Turn your head to the side, sugar. I don't want you suffocatin’ on me. That's right.”

Slowly, with gentle yet firm movements, Benny binds Dean’s arms together at his back, elbow to wrist, in a complex shibari knot. Dean loves it when Benny ties him like this and can already feel himself sinking into subspace as he kneels and waits; ten minutes later, when his bindings are complete, he relaxes into them and can't hold in a sigh of relief at the way they cradle his arms. It's almost like being held, in a way, the ropes tight on his skin but not cutting in. He's aware of Benny’s eyes on him, watching him as he adjusts to the bondage, and a moment later gentle hands press on the inside of his thighs, pushing them wider. He obliges, sinking lower into the position, his ass up and his shoulders and chest now firmly on the bed.

“Beautiful, cher. So good for me. So well-behaved.” Benny strokes the tender skin right where Dean’s thigh meets the curve of his ass, then moves up agonisingly slowly. A dry thumb comes to circle his hole gently, the palm spreading his cheek wider and exposing him. “You're goin’ to take all I can give you tonight, ain't that right?” Dean nods, and gets a slap to the ass for his efforts. “Verbal answers, boy, or this ends now.”

“Yes, sir. I am. I want whatever you want,” He throws Benny’s words from earlier back at him and is rewarded with the low rumble of laughter.

“Cheeky. I think I'll add another three to your total for that. You like the sounda that? Think you can take forty?”

It's almost impossible to muffle his groan. “Yes, sir. I know I can.”

“Good.”  

And Benny makes sure he does. When it comes to spanking, Dean never knows what to expect. It could be rough and quick, a real punishment that has Dean howling and sobbing and promising the earth, or it could be slow and almost gentle, working him up into an aroused, desperate frenzy where he begs to come or be fucked or both. Tonight could be either of those things or a heady mixture of the two: and he's nervously excited to find out. Benny settles himself on his knees behind Dean, his hip pressing into the back of Dean’s already-trembling thigh, and a warm hand strokes his lower back. He’s never felt so exposed, bound and spread out for his man, ass in the air waiting for his punishment and he knows Benny’s eyes are on his most intimate area. Then, with no warning, Benny’s hand comes down hard onto the tender skin of his ass and he yelps in shock.

“Count ‘em off for me, boy.” Benny instructs then slaps him again, this time not as hard but the blow hits the tender skin of his upper thigh and Dean cries out and manages to grit out ‘two, thank you sir’ then another comes in quick succession. By the time Dean reaches ten he’s shaking from anticipation, tension, discomfort and heady arousal. His cock hangs between his thighs, full and hard, and he’s panting shallowly. Benny pauses for a moment to allow him to catch his breath before continuing. Each blow is delicious agony, a heady mix of light slaps and deeper, heavier blows and they come at random times and speeds so Dean can’t adequately prepare himself for the impact. He’s moaning constantly by the time they reach twenty-five, barely able to count thanks to the arousal pulsing through his veins, and his ass feels like its on fire. Benny spreads his cheeks with one hand and the next blow, light but still intense thanks to the leather fabric of the glove, falls right over his hole and he shouts out in blissful agony. Another falls in the same place, then another, and soon Dean is aware on some level that his entrance is reddened and puffy and sore, but he’s desperate for Benny to keep going. This is what he wanted, this is the punishment he needed.

“Ah! God!” That one hurt and he groans, biting down into the sheets to stop himself shouting out a colour he doesn’t mean. He only has five left to go, and they come in quick succession as Benny spanks him hard and fast, making Dean’s whole body rock on the bed with each slap. Then it’s all over and he’s panting and trying to catch his breath while Benny strokes his aching, reddened skin soothingly while he murmurs praise to him. A moment later his hand disappears then returns, wet with lube which he rubs gently over Dean’s aching, exposed hole and they both let out a sigh of pleasure.

Benny’s gloved hand trails slowly down Dean’s crack, over his hole and lower, smearing lube everywhere, until its caressing his balls and stimulating him beautifully. The warm, rough leather, slick with gel feels incredible against his skin, and he can't stop his low moans of pleasure. Is this allowed? I'm being punished… surely Benny would tell me if I had to be quiet… Then his hand dips further, to wrap gently around his cock which hangs heavy and full between his thighs, and pulls it back towards him.

“You look beautiful like this, cher.” Benny’s voice is low and intoxicating as he starts to stroke Dean, playing gently with him and bringing a sheen of sweat to his skin as Dean pants helplessly. “All spread out and ready for me. Why don't you tell me what you think I should do next?”

It's a trick question, it has to be, but if it is then Dean doesn't realise it in time. “Finger me, sir. Open me up.”

“Oh, you think you're ready for that? Already?” There’s amusement in Benny’s voice. “That sounds like something you’d enjoy, not something you’ll learn from. This is supposed to be a punishment, boy, not pleasure.”

“I… I’m sorry, sir.” Dean hides his face in the mattress. “Whatever you do to me is what I deserve.”

“Hmm. Better.” The sound of lube being uncapped reaches Dean’s ears and he barely has time to consider what’s coming when two wet fingers start to circle his hole agonisingly slowly, and he moans softly into the sheets. The tip of one finger enters him and his cock pulses as he gasps - it hurts, burns thanks to the spanking, but the stretch is bliss. Then a second finger pushes in too and sinks in deep and he relaxes into the mattress, trying to hold in his sounds of pleasure. Benny fingers him slowly then the sensation of a warm, wet tongue joins in and his spine arches as he’s rimmed deliciously by his dom.

“Sir… that feels incredible… thank you, thank you, sir… please, more…”

Benny licks and laps and sucks at his rim as he fingers him nice and deep, adding a third finger and finding his prostate easily, circling it and pressing down firmly. Dean’s whole body jerks and the tip of his cock pulses out a pearl of wet precome. He groans and pushes back onto Benny’s mouth, and is rewarded by a sharp slap to his sore ass, but Benny doesn’t stop. He eats him out for what feels like forever, fingering him open and stretching him until he can feel his rim loose and wet and ready. Then Benny really gets to work: two fingers circle and massage his prostate and Dean moans, gasping and trying to hold back the pleasure rising within him. He doesn’t want to come yet; he wants to come on his dom’s cock, impaled and fucked open and screaming in pleasured agony. He wants Benny’s hands on him, wants to feel himself stretched open on Benny’s thick, slick shaft, and oh God this line of thought is going to push him over the edge too soon… Benny’s fingers twist inside him and circle his prostate again; Dean’s cock is now dripping a steady stream of precome and throbbing pleasantly between his open thighs. Benny mouths at him for a moment more then pulls back, and he swears he can feel him grin. His skin is chafed from the other man’s beard and he loves the burn. He tests the bonds on his arms by pulling gently; they hold fast. He’s going nowhere.

“You ready for me, sugar?” Benny is at Dean's side now, the tips of two fingers resting just inside his hole and the back of his other hand brushing Dean’s cheek gently. The leather feels fantastic on his cheek and Dean sighs. A full-body tremor pulses through him and he wants. It's taking every ounce of self-control he possesses not to wriggle back onto Benny’s hand. He's over-sensitive and over-stimulated after being so deeply fingered and having his prostate massaged for so long, and he's desperate for more, whining needily.

“Yes! Please, please fuck me, sir. Please.” The hand at his face slaps him gently.

“What did I tell you about cursin’? If you can't hold your tongue…”

“No! I can, sir, I promise. I'm sorry. I'll behave. Just take me, please.”

Benny makes a noise of confirmation and moves behind him again, the fingers pressing back inside his hole then pulling out - four fingers push back in, stretching and spreading him once more but before Dean can get too into it Benny’s hand is gone. There's the sound of lube being uncapped, and Dean really has to fight not to demand his dom to hurry up. Between his legs, his cock is hanging neglected, and he can feel how much he's dripping with need. A gloved hand returns to the swell of his asscheek, spreading him again, and he inhales in anticipation, waiting for the hot press of Benny’s cock against his wet, stretched hole.

“What's your colour, Dean?” Benny’s voice is dark with arousal and Dean can barely get the words out fast enough as a wave of need crashes through him.

“Green! Green, sir, please. I'm so ready for you… oh…”

Something blunt and slick presses against his rim, but it isn't his dom’s cock. It's tapered and cooler and firm - a toy, and Dean is certain he knows exactly which one. Fuck. He should have known Benny wasn't finished with him yet…

“Colour, Dean?” The head of the toy pushes into him, stretching him wide, and Dean groans in pleasure as his cock pulses between his legs. Benny has chosen his favourite toy, he's sure of it, and he can only hazard a guess at what will be in store for him. When he doesn't respond quickly enough to the question, Benny slaps his ass hard with his gloved hand: the impact on his already-tender skin makes him cry out and jerk, and the toy sinks in another inch. “Colour, now Dean, or I'm ending this scene.”

“Green… oh fu- oh, God!” He corrects himself mindlessly, barely holding on to the memory of being told not to curse. Benny murmurs praise, and pleasure and pride swell simultaneously within him.

Another inch of the toy slides in, wider now, stretching his slick rim even more and he groans at the intrusion. He wonders what he looks like, spread out on this toy, helpless under Benny’s control, bound and blindfolded. His cock pulses again, leaking more precome onto the sheets as the toy sinks even deeper inside him. He spreads his legs more, helplessly, and Benny smacks him again for doing it, but he can't help it. “Sir! Please, oh please!” He doesn't know what he's begging for, but as Benny pulls the you out a couple of inches he finds himself pleading again and - yes, fuck, he's rewarded by it being pushed deeply back into him and another inch presses inside. His knees slip on the sheets and he's spread so wide the tip of his cock, wet and pulsing and desperate, brushes against the fabric; he moans lewdly at the contact and Benny pulls the toy out again, this time almost all the way so the head of it tugs at his rim, before pushing it slowly back in. “Sir! Oh, God!” It's wide, thick, splitting him open and he groans at the intrusion; Benny takes his response as a cue and pulls it out again then, settling himself on the bed behind Dean and steadying his hips with a firm hand, begins to thrust it in and out of his sub’s tight body. Dean keens, gasping, and if he wasn’t bound so perfectly he would be holding onto the sheets for dear life as Benny starts to fuck him harder, plunging the dildo as deep as it will go then drawing it out so far that the very tip leaves Dean’s body and penetrates him perfectly as it goes back in.

“Yes…yes…oh, God, oh sir, oh please, fuck me harder…” He’s close now, the tip of the toy hitting his prostate with every thrust, and Benny seems to get it because he slowly his thrusts but instead starts to grind the toy into Dean’s body. The pressure on his sweet spot changes and becomes constant as the toy is worked deeply inside him, and the pleasure starts to build and build, his muscles tightening and his hands clenching into fists. He’s going to come, there’s no way he can fight it with Benny fucking him so perfectly, and he can’t stop his groans and gasps as his orgasm approaches with fierce momentum. He feels his ass clench around the toy, drawing it deeper into his body, his balls start to draw up and his cock pulses… then Benny’s hand comes between his thighs to circle the base of his dick firmly, and he howls.  

“You close, sugar?” Benny’s voice is thick with mirth, barely cutting into Dean’s haze; he knows Dean is right on the edge, and also knows that with his hand now creating a perfect, tight cockring around him that orgasm will be impossible until he lets go. The toy hasn’t stopped grinding within him, and Dean arches and whimpers and starts to beg helplessly, unaware of what he’s actually saying but desperate to come. He feels like he might burn up entirely if Benny doesn’t let him reach climax. His balls are tight up to his body and he can’t stop himself shaking as his dom strokes them gently with a leather-clad thumb. “So beautiful like this, cher. Right on the edge, waiting for my command. You like this toy, don’t you? You love it moving inside you, teasing you, pushing you right to that point where all you wanna do is come.” Benny leans down closer, and Dean groans as his thumb presses just a little harder on his balls; the toy is still inside him now, but not for long. Benny pulls it out halfway then drives it back in, his grip on the base of Dean’s cock tightening, and he cries out helplessly into the sheets, his cock throbbing and pulsing between his thighs with the desperation to spill his load all over his dom’s hand. “

If it weren’t for my hand, pretty, you’d be coming right now wouldn’t you? You’d be riding that beautiful wave, soaking my hand with your spend. Is that what you want?”

The toy pumps in and out again as Dean’s whole body shakes. His knees slip again on the sweat-soaked sheets and the head of his cock pushes into the fabric, sending sparks of pleasure through him and he starts to sob quietly. Every muscle is wound tight, his arms and shoulders are spasming with the need to reach between his own legs, and his thighs are trembling under the strain of keeping himself up on his knees to please his dom. Benny won’t be happy if he collapses onto his stomach; somehow, from his place deep in subspace, he knows he needs to hold on a little more. That Benny will give him what he needs. He’s slipping, sensations slowly blending together to form one cresting wave of agonised pleasure, and the toy pumps in and out of his clenching ass again. He sobs quietly, his vision whiting out behind the blindfold, and Benny’s thumb moves to caress the tender space behind his balls as the toy slips from him and he’s left wet, gaping, and empty, his hole clenching and desperate for more.

Dean can do nothing at all but pant into the sheets, the blindfold wet with tears, and wait until his body stops shaking quite as badly and the wave of pleasure recedes to low burn once more. He can hear Benny speaking but can’t discern words, and only hopes he’s doing as he’s asked - whatever that may be. His hopes are confirmed when Benny releases his cock and he moans in relief and distress - he’s throbbing and leaking and desperate for an orgasm, and he’s getting close to his limit. A hand rests on his cheek and Benny’s voice sounds from somewhere close by.

“Colour, Dean? Answer me, now, boy.” His voice is soft, commanding but gentle, and Dean chokes out green with a low sob. It’s almost yellow. Almost. Then Benny moves behind him and grips his hips with both hands, now bare and free of his gloves, and Dean’s breath catches on a relieved moan as the tip of his dom’s uncovered cock touches to his overstimulated rim and presses in slowly.

Benny fucks him fast and hard, avoiding his prostate, and grips the binding holding Dean’s arms for leverage, yanking on them with every pump of his hips and jerking his sub’s body back onto his cock, bringing beautiful cries from Dean’s lips with every thrust. Through his haze of ecstasy and need, Dean hears the two words that catapult him over the edge into orgasm with not even a touch to his dripping cock: Come, boy.

And he does. He spills onto the sheets below him, pumping load after load all over the bed with wrung-out cries as Benny focusses his thrusts on his prostate and fucks him hard through his orgasm, drawing it out so it goes on and on. He’s sure Benny comes too, certain that the tightening of his over-worked body brings his dom to the edge and over, but his vision goes white as he collapses onto the bed, then dark as blissful unconsciousness takes him and drags him under.

*

The next morning comes way too soon. Dean could stay wrapped up in Benny’s arms for an eternity and it still wouldn't be long enough. But gentle kisses to the back of his neck combined with caresses up and down his sides finally draw him awake, and he whines in displeasure at being conscious. It's early, neither of them have to be at work for a couple of hours, and he just want to cuddle. That's exactly what they do for a while until Dean’s stomach growls demandingly and Benny laughs.

“I'll make you breakfast. Anythin’ you like, cher. What sounds good?”

It goes against every fibre in Dean to allow someone to take care of him like this, but he and Benny have had more than one frank discussion about aftercare following a scene, so Dean no longer argues. Last night when he came to, he found that Benny had untied him and cleaned him up with a warm cloth, that he was wearing soft sweatpants and a cosy t-shirt belonging to his dom, and that he was cradled in Benny’s arms feeling safe and secure despite his aching body. Benny had kissed him over and over, had rubbed his arms and massaged lotion into the chafes from the rope, and had told him how perfect he had been, how gorgeous, how obedient and much Benny loves being with him. The bed had been stripped somehow and new sheets thrown on, and Benny had sat him up and fed him chocolate and helped him sip water until sleep tugged demandingly at the edge of his consciousness. He had fallen asleep on the other man’s chest and sunk into pleasant, romance-filled dreams. He stretches in bed and watches the Deputy get up and throw on some sweats.

“Bacon. Coffee. Juice. Eggs over easy.” He grins up at Benny who just smiles back at him.

“Oh, you wanna be spoiled, that it?” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, leans down and kisses Dean deeply. “I'm sure I can manage that. You're havin’ sugar in your coffee - no, don't argue with me - and water, too.”

Dean frowns, but nods his acquiescence. He hates sugary morning coffee but Benny is right; he expended a lot of energy during their scene last night - one of their most intense yet - and he needs to replace it.

“OK. That sounds good.”

“Stay here, sugar.” Benny runs a hand lovingly through Dean’s hair. “Stay in bed and relax, I'll go make us something to eat. Only get up if you need the bathroom, alright?”

Sleepy, Dean nods. His world still feels fuzzy around the edges from sleep and he's aching pleasantly in multiple places. Wrists, thighs, throat and ass, to name a few. He watches Benny go, hears him descend the stairs with his familiar, heavy footsteps, and he snuggles down into the blankets to doze for a few minutes. But he does need the bathroom, so he throws the sheets off himself and gets up to go. Immediately, the tender skin of his ass and thighs smarts, exposed to the air, and he hisses in discomfort. He's barely three steps across the room when a chill hits him; the feel of the cool wood under his feet, the air in the room now that he isn't swathed in blankets and comfort, and the exposure of being nude and alone in someone else’s bedroom after what they've done hits him like a sledgehammer. Followed quickly by the memory of why they did what they did: because he fucked up. Week three of his new job, and error number three on his record already. Benny must be so disappointed in him, and this was his way of showing it.

All the sweet, gentle, caring words the other man has showered on him melt away, and Dean can only hear himself being reprimanded, being talked down to, and being humiliated while he lay naked and bound and unable to speak to defend himself. But that isn't what happened, the rational part of his mind tries to speak up. That isn't how it was! But Dean isn't feeling particularly rational right now: familiar feelings of disappointment, self-loathing, disgust and humiliation are washing over him and he stumbles to the bathroom on shaky legs. He tries to lock the door but his hands are trembling too much, so instead he gives in and curls up against the bathtub, arms around his knees and head resting on them, attempting to calm himself. His thighs ache as he moves, reminding him of the things they did together, and the welts on his ass sting more than a little.

You let him down, Dean. And look what he had to do to get the message home. You fucked up, again. Why can't you just do as you're asked? Why can't you manage basic tasks without him having to intervene? You don't deserve the job you have, and you don't deserve him.

A noise outside the door draws his attention but only for a second. He's cold, starting to shiver, and he hugs his knees even tighter.

Get it together. If Benny sees you this way he'll be disgusted. Pull yourself together, Dean!

“I'll be out in a minute…” His voice sounds relatively normal to his own ears, albeit muffled into his forearms. Dimly he hears someone knocking at the door and tightens his grip on his knees. He doesn't get a chance to say anything more: the door opens and suddenly Benny is on his knees at his side and a hand is in his hair. The other comes to stroke his shoulder then, as Benny seems to realise that Dean is shaking almost violently, he sighs sadly and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close to his chest.

“Darlin’, what is it? Dean, talk to me, please, cher. What's going on in that head of yours?”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Dean can't lift his head, can't let Benny see how close he is to tears. “I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I promise, I promise I won't do it again.”

“Dean,” Benny sounds pained, and holds him a little tighter, starting to rub circles into the skin of his back, tracing his spine and drawing slow patterns with his fingers. “Don't call me that any more, the scene is over, you know that. Look at me.” Dean shakes his head, face still buried in his arms. “Sugar, please look at me. Please trust me.”

He raises his head slowly, and Benny moves in front of him to cup his jaw and look deeply into his eyes, his own expression unhappy and worried. He sighs, resting his forehead against Dean’s, then pulls away to reach over and turn the shower on. Steam slowly starts to swirl up and thicken the air as Benny rubs Dean’s shoulders to try and bring the feeling back into them.

“I thought you were alright,” he murmurs, running his hands through his hair and stroking his cheeks. “I'm sorry, Dean, really, I am. Lets get you in the shower-”

“No, Benny,” Dean grabs for his lover, eyes wide and scared as fear crashes through him. “It's me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fucked up, I didn't mean it. It won't happen again, I swear…”

“Baby. I know.” Benny gently loops Dean’s arms around his own neck and stands, holding him upright with a strong arm around his waist and manoeuvres him into the shower. After stripping off his sweat pants, he joins him a second later. His hands are warm and soothing, and stroke over Dean’s sore ass and thighs and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes and fighting a swell of emotion. Benny is his dom, his lover, the man he defers to both at work and in private. He shouldn't have to care for Dean like this, he needs to be stronger. Needs to not fall apart at the drop of a hat. Needs to get it right.

Benny takes both his hands and places them on the wall in front of him, his chest pressing up against Dean’s back. For the first time in their relationship, he feels a stab of fear: he isn't ready for another round. He's too sore, feels too raw and too low, but he doesn't know how to say no. He hopes Benny asks for his colour, because he's sure he could be honest and say yellow, but instead lips press against the back of his neck and he shivers in trepidation.

“Benny… I don't think… I'm…” It hurts. “I don't think I can…”

“Darlin’. I would never.” Benny’s hands come to his hips; the water cascades down on them both, streaming over their skin and it's cleansing. Refreshing. Dean's eyes fall closed. “Stay right there. I'll take care ‘o you.”

And he does. He massages Dean’s shoulders, following the movements of his hands with gentle kisses all the way down his spine, then kneels behind him and repeats the caresses on his calves, thighs and ass, firm fingers working the tension out of sore muscles. There's nothing sexual about it at all, just a deep desire to make Dean feel better, to work the tension from his body and to relax him. Benny stands up and gathers up shower gel and shampoo, and insists Dean stays still while he washes the remnants of sweat and come from his body, then massages shampoo into his scalp until Dean’s head falls back to land on his shoulder. And that's when Dean can no longer hold back the tears: it feels so good, to be held and caressed and cherished like this, and he doesn't deserve any of it. A swell of emotion comes crashing down on him and he chokes on a sob, tears starting to flow freely and Benny holds him as he cries. He's turned around in the Deputy’s arms and held close, the warmth of the steam and water cocooning them and making him feel safe, secure within Benny’s embrace. He doesn't know how long he cries for, face buried in his hands against Benny’s chest, but when he finally comes back to himself they're curled up in bed together and gentle hands are stroking through his hair. They lie together quietly for a while until his sobs subside to gentle sniffles and the feeling has returned properly to his limbs.

Benny sits him up and helps him drink juice, then coffee, then hand-feeds him pieces of bacon and toast, which Dean takes silently, gratefully. He's too worn-out and exhausted to contemplate even basic tasks himself, and having Benny’s solid arm wrapped around him while he's fed is grounding and comforting. When he's done, they lie back down again Anna Benny resumes stroking his hair.

“Let’s talk about it, cher.” It's not a question. “I haven't seen you drop like that in a long time. Talk to me.”

“I just…” Dean's voice is raw from crying and he coughs once or twice to clear his throat. “I don't want to disappoint you. Ever. And I guess I felt like I had.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Because you had to punish me. Because I screwed up. “I felt like I had.”

“You could never disappoint me, Dean.” Benny’s voice is low and serious. “Ever. The only thing you could do to disappoint me is to not be honest with me. You know that.”

“I do.” He toys with his fingers, feeling his cheeks redden. He's so tired, all he wants to do is sleep. He feels hungover, or like he's run a marathon. “And I know I didn't, not really. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I just want to be enough,” he says it so quietly he knows Benny has to strain to hear him.

“Enough for what?” The surprise is thick in the other man’s voice.

“For you. At work, at home… For my colleagues.” For myself. “I don't want to be a failure.” And shit, that was hard to admit. He feels his hands tremble and he presses his lips tightly closed, waiting for the response. Waiting, hoping, to be told he isn't a failure. That he won't be if he works hard enough. That Benny can help him to not be.

“Cher. Look at me.” He does, tilting his head to look up into dark eyes that are now soft with compassion. Benny kisses him, his stubble rough against Dean’s skin. “You've always been enough for me. And you always will be, no matter what you do. It's a privilege bein’ with you, Dean. Every day’s a charm, and I mean that. I…”

He goes quiet, and Dean feels panic bubble up in his throat. Is Benny going to say… no, surely not… The older man kisses him again, cupping his jaw and exploring his mouth gently for a minute or two. Then, against Dean’s lips, he whispers words that go straight to Dean’s heart and curl up there, making a home for themselves.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. You are enough. You'll always be enough.”

*

Half an hour later, when Dean is able to speak again, he says it back. And a moment after that, he says, “I don't feel like I'm enough for you right now, Benny.” The other man starts to protest but he hushes him, not finished yet. He can't look at Benny when he speaks again, because he feels like he'll cry, but when he's done a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead and he's held close for hours and hours as Benny cares for him and cherishes him and tells him he's loved over and over again.

“I don't feel like I'm enough for you right now. But I feel like someday soon, I'll know I am.”

#dean winchester x benny lafitte #dean and benny