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Drive (steve rogers x reader)

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of cheating, alcohol abuse, toxic relationships, mentions of sexual content

steve rogers x reader

word count: 1.4k+

based on the song,

“Drive” by oh wonder

A/N: this is part of @whothehellisbella’s cool times summer jamz mix writing challenge. also a Modern!AU oneshot. I enjoyed writing this, even though there were tears and anger through it all. :) i hope you enjoy this too!

Originally posted by forassgard

“Tell me you didn’t leave.” She looked ahead, not glancing at the speedometer, as she sped up. 50. 65. 72. 82.“Tell me you didn’t abandon me.” he said, his voice husky over the phone, his voice filling the car, choking her. “I didn’t,” she sighed, “I’ll see you home.” “Okay,” he said, clicking off. Her music blared back on, and she clicked the windows to slide all the way down. Tears trailed down her face: a look of despair, dread, and even some fear, of the thought of going back. Going back to her apartment. Going back to him

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Bad Cop [Namjoon Officer!AU Smut]

Originally posted by jjungkook

Officer Kim Namjoon had not had a pleasant week, to put it nicely. So on Friday, an hour before he could hang up his holster for the weekend, he was pissed as hell to be roped into interrogating yet another pathetic criminal, this one rumored to be a leader of a gang that was responsible for 80% of the illicit activities that cluttered Namjoon’s desk with paperwork.

“Namjoon, you’ve got to take a crack at her. I’ve been working her case since 8 this morning. She needs bad cop, because good cop isn’t getting anywhere,” Detective Jin huffed, pushing brown hair out of his annoyed face.

“Do I look like a miracle worker?” Namjoon grunted, not taking his eyes off of the massive mound of paperwork on his desk.

“After the week you’ve had, you’re the most likely to break this case. All we need is some info from their boss, Y/F/N Y/L/N, whom we conveniently have chained up in one of the empty rooms,” the detective prodded, finally sliding a mugshot of the smirking Y/H/C under the sheriff’s nose. “I happen to believe that you’ll have more…unorthodox methods than the rest of us, but if it closes the case, I’m up for anything.”

Namjoon paused the scratching of his pen on the papers, looking at the attractive mugshot of you, internally musing about what kinds of unorthodox things he’d like to do with you. Finally he sighed, setting the pen down and getting out of his chair. “Details?” he asked, following the triumphant brunette down the hall.

“She’s young for a mob boss, about Y/A. Ran away from home at 13, started her undesirable habits at 15. Moved up the ranks quickly, usually by sleeping with and potentially killing those in power. Y/L/N finally slipped up about a year ago, killing someone with a gang brand and getting discovered. A few tips later and we find her owning and managing a strip club, and long brawl short, we wrangle her into the station, where she now resides in one of the more private rooms,” Jin rattled off, shoes snapping on the linoleum until he finally stopped in front of a plain padlocked iron door, the wall around devoid of windows. “Do whatever you have to to make her snap.”

He dangled the key from a slender finger, and Namjoon slipped it off, making short work of unlocking the secure barrier. Impatiently, he entered the protected white room and locked the door behind him, smiling for the first time that week. “Seems we got ourselves in a bit of trouble, didn’t we, Y/L/N?” he smirked to the door, taking his time in turning around to see you secured to a metal chair in the center of the room.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” you mocked sarcastically. “You’re going to be the bad cop.” You tilted back your head and laughed, the melodious sound echoing in the small room. “God, this station can’t spring for very threatening officers can they?”

Namjoon smiled thinly and started pulling off his tie. “Why don’t we save ourselves any trouble and you just tell me what I need to know?”

“Ooh, I’m so persuaded. I think that brown-haired cop was tougher than you, and I think he almost started crying,” you pointed out conversationally. “Why don’t we just skip this pointless little conversation, and you just come home with me so I can find out how tough you are out of uniform?”

“Mm, I don’t think it’ll be necessary to leave,” Namjoon purred, circling you. “We can have all the fun right here. I mean, you’re already chained up for me.”

“Awfully kinky, but I’m a lot of things for you,” you breathed seductively, batting your lashes and biting your lower lip.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” the sheriff challenged, stopping in front of you with his arms crossed, analyzing you. “Where’s your headquarters?”

You parted your jean clad legs slightly, just enough to spike his heart rate. “Find out for yourself,” you offered innocently.

Without warning, the sheriff lunged forward and planted his lips on your, sliding his tongue across your bottom lip for entrance, which you gladly gave. Just as suddenly, Namjoon backed away, leaving you panting. “Want to try your answer again?” he queried.

You glanced at him, chest heaving, and curved your lips into a smirk. “Do your worst.”

Needing no further invitation, Namjoon unbuttoned his top, pulling it as well as his undershirt off, baring his muscular chest to you. “Someone works out,” you whispered.

Slowly he advanced on you, his captive audience, and pulled out a knife. Your E/C eyes widened fractionally, but your breathing remained even as you waited for the sharp bite of the weapon. Instead, he slid the blade across your chest, the blade slicing through your shirt and bra expertly. Namjoon tugged on the slit, opening it wider, until your breasts were exposed to him. “Still don’t want to answer?” he murmured lowly, his breath fanning across your exposed chest. Your breathing caught in your throat and you drew your thighs together to provide some friction against your throbbing core.

Carefully he kneeled in front of you, spreading your legs with minimal resistance and letting his hot breath penetrate your denim covered folds. His large hands traveled up your thighs achingly slow, eventually coming to rest at the waistband of your jeans. Smirking, Namjoon gently squeezed your ass, before returning to your waistband. He tugged on it, his grin broadening and dimples deepening as you willingly lifted your ass so he could pull the material down and have full access to your throbbing center.

Above him, you gave a gasp at the feeling of cold air on your slit, which only accentuated your need for friction. “How many are in your group?” Namjoon mused against your pelvic bone, pressing feather light kisses to the sensitive skin there.

He rose when his question received no response, placing a hand on either armrest of your small chair. “Are you responsible for the organized damage your group has committed?” he murmured softly, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. Softly he scraped his teeth against your earlobe, moving down to kiss on your neck as one of his hands brushed across the waistband of your panties.

You were breathing raggedly, drawing the sheriff’s attention to the pink buds on your chest. His free hand snaked up to tweak and tease a nipple, eliciting a moan from your flushed face. Namjoon smirked against your skin, then pressed a thumb to your clit, feeling the wetness that pooled between your legs. “So wet…What do you need?” he mumbled against your skin, feeling your defenses break down.

“I…need you…in…inside of me…” you gasped, wanton moans falling lasciviously from your swollen lips.

Triumphantly, Namjoon pulled away to admire his handiwork. “Sure sounds like a problem,” he noted, watching the erratic rise and fall of your chest, coupled with your frantic pressing of your thighs together. “Wonder how you could solve that.” You looked at him through hooded eyes, biting your lip in conflict. “I just need a short confession, Y/N,” he added softly, loving the realization that he had done this to you, has caused you this much strife in only 10 minutes.

With no response again, he leapt forward again, getting to business quickly. His nimble fingers nudged your panties out of the way and eagerly he slid two fingers inside of you, pumping in and out quickly, while his mouth and free hand tackled your chest, forcibly pushing you to the edge. Your only expression of pleasure had dwindled from moans to whimpers as he increased the speed of his careful ministrations. Eventually, Namjoon could feel you tightening and he again stood away, licking his index and middle fingers off.

“Do we have a deal?” he purred, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Yes,” you blurted before even a full second had passed after he asked his question. Namjoon moved for a voice recorder in his pocket, pulling it out and setting it to record. “I, Y/F/N Y/L/N, am single-handedly responsible for the organized crime of my gang,” you panted into the receiver, locking eyes with Namjoon as you signed your soul to the devil. It wasn’t as if you’d be in jail long, anyhow. Immediately after you confessed, the recorder shut off with a push of a button.

“Now it’s time for my end of the deal,” he mused, unbuckling his belt and pushing off his pants, along with his boxers. Namjoon fished out a condom from a shirt pocket and tore it open, slipping it over his hardened erection.

You panted even harder at the sight of his length and bit your lip in frustration as he stood in front of you, stroking his dick. With a practiced finesse, he slid the head of his dick in your soaked folds, before dipping inside of you, snapping his hips in and out of you at a rapid pace. A hand toyed with your clit, the other gripping your hip tightly, while he kissed you with a frenzied passion as his thrusts brought the both of you closer to your highs. Moans fell from each other’s lips, only to be swallowed by your kisses.

You broke away as you got closer to your climax, muttering “I’m… c-close…”

Namjoon took your words into consideration and rocked his hips forward faster, circling your clit harshly until he finally felt you tighten around him, screaming his name in the process. He fell apart soon after, moaning your name into the crook of your neck as he came.

The officer pulled out after you had both ridden through your highs, immediately dressing again, but leaving his undershirt off. Once his composure was reestablished, he dug through his pockets, finding the keys to your cuffs, unlocking you from the chair to allow you to redress, throwing his undershirt at you to put on in place of your sliced shirt. Namjoon pulled you against him, distracting you with a kiss as he pulled your wrists into the cuffs again, which you noted with a noise of annoyance, thinking you were about to be set free.

“If it helps any, you were my favorite interrogation,” Namjoon crooned into your ear, dragging you out of the holding room and into a cell of your own.


Well, that was some kinky shit. I’d say my fingers slipped on the keyboard, but that would be an awful lot of slips. Whoops.

-Admin A

Why you gotta tease me like that?

*Smut Warning* If you don’t like smut, then don’t read this. Also, this is only my second smut so sorry if its bad. lol

Group: iKON

Member: Bobby

Originally posted by yoonbbom

Bobby and the boys had been at the studio all day and you hated being at the dorm waiting for them. It was 2AM and they still weren’t back. You pulled your phone out and texted Bobby.

Almost done?

You sat in his bed waiting for a reply.

I hope so, I’m dead. What are you doing?

You decided to show him rather than just text him. You pulled off his shirt you were wearing and took a picture laying in his bed in just your underwear, along with it you sent; waiting for you. Sure you and Bobby had sexted a bit before, but never while he was working at the studio. Either he would tell you to knock it off, or it would make him want to come home right away to see you.

Why you gotta tease me like that?

I miss you oppa, please hurry home.

Knowing how he loved when you called him oppa, you used that to your advantage. He texted back saying they were leaving the studio and he would be home soon. You were lying in is bed, back to the door, as it slowly opened. He set his bags on the floor and you could hear him changing out of his jeans. He climbed into bed next to you began kissing the back of your neck. You just shifted in your sleep, bringing yourself closer to him.

He ran his hand up your thigh, pulling up your shirt exposing more of your skin. “Please.” He whispered into your ear, his voice low and husky from recording. You reached a hand back to feel his growing erection. You slowly palmed at it through his shorts, causing a small moan to escape his lips. You rolled and positioned yourself on top of him. You teased him with your lips causing him to pull you into his kiss. The kiss intensified as he moved his hands to your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off.” You followed his request, removing the shirt. You began leaving a trail of kisses down his exposed chest to the waistband of his shorts. His bulge now visible through the fabric. You glanced at it and look up at him smiling. You pulled down his shorts and boxers, exposing his length. You began to stroke him, causing him to moan out. You teased him, slowly lowering your mouth to the tip. You paused, seeing the ache in his face. “Please y/n.” You slowly began sucking, now stroking with both hands. “Oh shit. That’s so fucking good baby.” He threw his head back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair, not wanting you to stop.

He pulled you off of him, kissing you deeply, and then placing you where he was just lying. He began leaving love bites from your neck to your collarbone. “My turn.” He whispered in your ear before leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your body. He stopped at the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, slowly tracing your cloth covered folds with his fingers. “Mhm, Bobby. Don’t tease me.” He chuckled as he now pulled down the fabric.

You breathe getting caught in your throat as you tried to prepare yourself. Without warning his mouth went to work while his fingers soon followed. “Oh my god!” You covered your mouth trying to muffle your moans while your other hand was gripping Bobby’s hair. Every lick of his tongue and curl of his fingers was pushing you closer to the limit. You arched your back, not wanting him to stop, but without warning he pulled his mouth and fingers away. You looked at him catching your breath as he licked his fingers.

You grabbed a condom from his bedside table and ripped it open with your teeth, slowly sliding it onto his dick. He softly hissed at your touch, trying to control himself and not thrust into you right there. He leaned down and kissed you as he lowered himself onto the bed.

He positioned his tip at your entrance, teasing you. “Bobby, please. I need you.” He slowly slid into you, letting you adjust to him. You tightly wrapped your arms around his neck as his lips found their place at your neck. Once you had given him the okay, he began to thrust slowly, but soon quickening his pace. “Oh my god fu-” You moaned, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound, causing him to nip at your neck.

“Y/n, you’re so good baby.” His thrust now faster and harder, you felt yourself reaching your limit. You pulled his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. Both of you moaning into the kiss. You tightened around his length, not being able to hold out any longer. “Bobby, I’m gonna cum. Shit.” He took this as an invitation not to stop. “Fuck Bobby!” You buried your face into his neck as you release, he soon follows.

You lay there together for a minute, catching your breath until your chests are moving in sync. He pulls out of you and goes to dispose of the condom. You pull your shirt back on along with your underwear. Bobby throws on his boxers and climbs into bed next to you. “You know, if you sent me pictures like that every time I was at the studio too late, I’d be home much sooner.” He put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. You laughed looking up at him. “So, I’m supposed to send you pictures like that every night?” He laughed with a cocky smile. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this every night.”

You pushed him off you and got out of his bed. “Where are you going?” He looked up at you confused. “I’m gonna take a shower. But you know, I can’t send you pictures from in here, so you might have to come in to see for yourself.” You gave him a sly smile as you disappeared into the bathroom running the water.

watcherandshield  asked:

*hands Robb a box of condoms and a t-shirt with the words 'i love my brother'. Definitely not intended to be used together.* Happy Christmas, Robb. ❤️

Christmas 2017 @watcherandshield

Robb raised an eyebrow at the box of condoms then quickly shoved them back into the bag as his mother came into the room, mumbling about place settings. When she’d left again, Robb laughed and pulled Jon into a hug. For the rest of the day, he wore the t-shirt on top of his Christmas sweater, assuring Rickon (@thelostwildwolf ), when the young boy crawled into his lap and tried to read the words, that it of course meant him too. 

Once the kids had finished opening their presents and ran off to play, Robb came over and took the seat next to Jon, handing him a full cup of spiked eggnog and a present: a poorly (self)knitted Stark sweater that matched the rest of the children’s (because his mother would not make Jon one) and a small container of black nail-polish. 

anonymous asked:

Kbtbb guys reacting that when they their wifey tells them to do it raw from now on

Some slight sexy times ahead.


Eisuke: He had you pinned down on the bed, slowly trailing kisses down your side as you moaned underneath him. As he sensed where this was going to lead to, he quickly kissed your lips, plunging his tongue into your mouth and exploring its depths. As you were lost in the kiss you failed to realize that he was putting on a condom, “E-eisuke.” You asked, breaking away the kiss. Sensing the hesitation in your voice he pulled away a little to look at you, “I don’t think you need that do you?” You asked, blushing widely as you turned your head away. Eisuke smirked and ripped it off. Now he was excited. 

Soryu: You both were in an intense make out session. You pinned against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waste. His hands firmly gripping your breasts as his tongue explored your mouth. As he pulled you off the wall and laid you on the bed, Soryu reached for his bedside table in search for a condom. Although, as he was trying to find it, you grabbed his hand, “Do we really need that?” You asked. To his surprise, he was excited to know that you didn’t want the protection as he couldn’t wait to ravish you. 

Ota: You were sitting on his lap, his hands running through your hair to on your thighs as you moaned under his touch. Ota leaned over while holding on to you trying to reach for a condom. Laughing to yourself, you reached out and grabbed his hand, “Ota…” Your sultry moan clicked instantly inside him as he got the hint.

Baba: Baba had his arms wrapped around you from behind, trailing kisses along your neck to your shoulders and down your back. As you squirmed under his touch, you felt yourself fall backwards onto the couch, being flipped around so he was on top of you as he pulled a condom out of his pocket. Trying to hold back a giggle, you reached for his hand and held it, “I don’t think we need that tonight.” You said, grabbing the condom and chucking it onto the coffee table. He smirked and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, “But maybe we need these~”

Mamoru: You both were into a drunk make out session. Mamoru pinned you on the couch as you wiggled under his touch. As things got more heated, you felt him move as he tried to find the nearest drawer for a condom. Gripping his shirt, you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. You were to embarrassed to say that you both didn’t need protection anymore and hoped he got the hint.

Don’t come for willambelli
As someone who owns every bit of Willam Belli merchandise (including obscure shit like an Awreatha Xmas wreath, candles, beach towels, playing cards, and condoms), given his shirts as gifts, bought all his music, purchased multiple tickets to his shows (including upcoming Le Bal and 340 VIP), donated to kickstarters (Beatdown and Eastsiders), in the process of writing and pitching an academic essay on his work BUT has only two questionably obtained songs by Banks, I’m team Willam (rather, my pocketbook is). Duh. Plus, I put my hard earned money where my mouth is. Who’s the successful one? And believe me I understand Willam doesn’t need me or anyone to defend him, he’s a big girl with a sassy mouth. Willam isn’t perfect but at least he’s continually growing, learning, understanding. Which is more than I can say for Banks’ repeated verbal faux pas.

Habits of the Heart

Well, thank you for appreciating the blog. And thank you for your request! I had never heard this song before, but am absolutely in love with it now. :) The song is pretty angsty, hence the scenario it inspired is as well. Anyway, I hope you like it!

- Admin I

In a dark room, in cold sheets, I can’t feel a damn thing. ()

Y/N stared up at the ceiling in sleepless torment, the ticking of the clock slowly driving her mad. She glanced to the body lying next to her, pretty face hidden beneath locks of thick, dark hair, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She wondered how he could sleep so soundly while she was suffocating next to him. She didn’t know whether she despised his indifference or envied it.

Minutes moved like hours, before the sun finally crept up the horizon, its rays seeping in through the curtains hanging over his bedroom window. Y/N almost laughed. Those curtains cost as much, maybe even more, than her entire wardrobe, and they still couldn’t keep out the light.

The sunshine did nothing for the temperature, however, and Y/N shivered slightly under the covers. She pulled them tighter around her, trying to keep out the morning chill. 

The man next to her stirred a little, and maybe it wasn’t the room, she thought, maybe it was just him.


Later the same day, as she drifted down the aisles of her local grocery store, Y/N wondered if he had even noticed she was gone. A quick look at her watch told her it was almost noon, around the time he usually woke up.

Being a renowned pianist meant that he was almost always performing late into the night, and entertaining well into the morning. That’s what he was, an entertainer, and he never let her forget it.

His music was the very reason they had met.

Perhaps it was the lights, or the alcohol in her system, or perhaps it was simply the way he carried himself, but she had wanted him the moment she saw him walk out onto that stage.

She had watched his performance, mesmerized. His melodic singing had filled the air; his fingers moved over that instrument with the kind of fervency that, Y/N knew now, he would never touch her with. 

After the show, she had followed him backstage, along with the many other women who were hoping for more than just an autograph. When he saw her, his smokey eyes lit up like flames, lips curling into an easy smirk. 

He’d leaned in close and whispered, “Would you like to go home with me?” 

She said yes in a heartbeat, of course.

She had felt lucky. Maybe that’s why some said luck was a curse, too.

A loud crash startled Y/N out of her reminiscing. A boy at the end of the aisle, a store clerk by the looks of his attire, had bumped into an elderly woman, and was now helping her pick up her things, all the while stuttering apologies.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see you there, I really didn’t meant to -”

“I know, sweetheart,” she said, patting him on the shoulder, “It’s okay.”


Y/N wished her mother would stop inviting her to dinner, they both knew she only did it to keep tabs on her children’s lives’, and being the least successful of her siblings, Y/N had no desire to spend tonight under her mother’s microscope. But she would, because Y/N may be a lot of things, but a bad daughter was not one of them, not yet anyway.

The routine was always the same at her parents’ house. First the clinking of spoons against bowls, and then her mother breaking the awkward silence with an invasive question, usually directed at her.

“So, your sister tells us you’re seeing someone.”

Y/N washed down the food in her mouth with a sip of wine, and gave a nod.

“How long has that been going on?” her mother asked, a look of boredom on her face. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be asking if she weren’t curious.

“Not long,” Y/N answered.

In reality, it had been seven months since they’d been together. Although, together wasn’t exactly the right word.

Their relationship wasn’t much beyond physical, but Y/N wasn’t going to tell her parents that.

“Are you in love?” her little sister asked, eyes wide with interest.

Their mother gave her a sharp glare and she lowered her head, her attention back on her meal.

Love? Maybe, Y/N thought.

If love was obsession, then yes, she loved him. If love was compromise, then yes, they loved each other.

“What does he do?” her father asked.

“He’s a musician, daddy,” her older sister cut in before she could reply, “A piano player, right, Y/N?”

Y/N nodded, “Yes, a prodigy, in fact.”

“Ha! A prodigy,” her mother laughed, eyes glinting with satisfaction, like this was exactly what she was expecting, “What a delightful new take on the starving artist cliche.”

“My naive child,” she added quietly at the end.


Starving artist.

He had talked about that once, said that most people found the stereotype to be offensive, but it was the most truest thing that’s ever been said about artists.

“Do you know why people think artists are crazy?” he had asked, lying in bed with her. He didn’t wait for her to answer before continuing.

“Because it’s all we do, it’s all we think about.”

“Why?” she had asked, genuinely intrigued, as she always was when he spoke.

“We want to live inside our art. This world and its ordinariness bores us. We want immeasurable beauty, we want the kind of love that inspires poetry, we want the kind of life that you only read about in books,” he turned toward her, head leaning on his elbow-propped hand. “That’s why we’re called starving artists. We’re always hungry, always longing for something more.”

Y/N loved hearing him talk. 

That voice, it was like a spider’s web, beautiful and intricate, but ultimately…a trap.


Y/N sat on her couch, phone in hand, waiting for his call.

Sometimes, she would tell herself to end it, or to stop answering completely. If only bad habits weren’t so hard to quit.

Rrrrrrrrrinng

She knew she didn’t need him, but life wasn’t about what you needed, it was about what you wanted. And as long as she wanted him, she would pick up.


He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her back into him, his lips pressing against her shoulder and thumb drawing lazy circles over her waist. Y/N figured he must have had a good show tonight.

He had been so gentle.

But then, he was always gentle. Even when he tied her hands behind her back, he was gentle. Even when he came in stumbling and sweating booze, he was gentle. Even when he fucked her hard into the headboard, when it was over in five minutes, no condom, shirt on, lights off…even when he wouldn’t look her in the eyes, he was gentle.

“Baekhyun,” Y/N whispered, tugging the blankets up to her chin, “I can’t fall asleep. It’s too cold.”

He moved his hands off her and shifted around in bed.

“I know, sweetheart. Try.”