turn stool

the signs as abandoned places

ARIES Abandoned gas stations, beholders of tumbleweeds and roadside tales, filled with dead fuel yet frozen in time, eyes on the passengers with their hands and hair out the window, haunted by old desert songs and engines revving behind it.

TAURUS: Abandoned bars, stools turned over, a ripped flyer shouting BABES BABES BABES hanging off the bulletin board, a lost motorcycle tire, glass shattered, and the spirit of hell still living somewhere inside.

GEMINI Ghost towns, at the base of old mountains, houses with shutters like eyes and doors like mouths, swallowing stories whole, convenience stores still stocked with stale bread, cabins and headstones still peeking out from behind fairy wood brambles, nature stretching into steel, ready to come alive with a shift of the wind.

CANCER: Abandoned motels, empty pools filled with deflated flamingos, the sign out front screaming VACANCY forever, each room a different anthology of guest book tales, smashed television monitors and a love note ( or goodbye note ) caught up in the rust of the honeymoon suite.

LEO: Abandoned theaters, stages dented with the ghosts of performances past, torn scripts scattered across floorboards in a mess of Playbills and shattered eyeglasses, broken lights and tattered dress hems, mannequins poised at an eternal act one.

VIRGO Abandoned train stations, cars sprayed in a kaleidoscope of graffiti, drifters still starting fires in some of the shells, grass growing over old gears, ghost conductors with no destination, rails intersecting at odd angles like flowers and bones.

LIBRA Abandoned campgrounds, rattlesnakes and desert blues, dead hot and forgotten, a shelled-out RV and the dry lake where the kids used to play, swallowing up broken toys and flat tents, showers crawling with critters, vintage t-shirts printed with campground bears promising that it’s still “the happiest place on earth.”

SCORPIO Abandoned amusement parks, soggy coaster cars paused mid-ascension, cheap thrills and screams still stagnant in the air, ferris wheels trembling in the wind, clown faces distorted and torn down the middle, a mascot head smiling out from the overgrowth.

SAGITTARIUS Abandoned renaissance fairs, an acre out of time, fake pirate ships swinging, fairy wings trying to fly, dead flower crowns tangled with bright ribbons and peasant blouses shed by the lake, empty squares and old stage buildings, Arthur’s sword caught at the entry, still waiting to be pulled.

CAPRICORN Abandoned toy stores, broken pinball machines, ghost clowns, and popped balloons, playing cards stuck to the floor, a crooked house of childhood horrors, teddy bears bleeding stuffing, and a funhouse mirror distorting the distorted. 

AQUARIUS: Abandoned piers, driftwood split down the middle, coastline the last alive thing, neon lights still calling Gatsby home from the horizon, but promising only the ghosts of mermaids washed ashore, tires and bottles filled with sand, dead trees spouting from old rocks, branches a wind chime of ripped dresses, forks, and seashells on strings.

PISCES: Abandoned waterparks, slides overlooking entire old cities, perfect for climbing, hoses and pools now scrawled over and used as skateboard ramps, kids climbing over the old towers and ladders in their bathing suits when it rains, pure want as their tickets in, yelling, “We’re still here, we’re still here, we’re still here!”

Daddy Devil  { Submission }

<– [Prologue] | [Dominance] | 

A/N: Lmaoooo the title is misleading xD but! In the context of the first part of this story, it makes sense lol. So there!

Anyway, here’s the second part of Daddy Devil! There was a lot of positive feedback on the first part, so I figured I’d give writing a second part a shot. Hopefully you all like it!

Consider it a belated Valentine’s Day present~ ;p

Words: 7,414

Genre: Smut/Demon!AU


Namjoon finds himself standing at the bottom of the regal staircase, face blank and cock grown hard between his legs. The clock on the walls ticks just past 3AM, and the entire house is silent—Hell, for once, seems to have quieted down.

But the thoughts in Namjoon’s brain are loud. The images from his dream continue to play in his head, and he scowls, fingers curling into fists.

Taut, rosy nipples—skin decorated with bruises and hickies. Thighs quivering, lips and chin slick with drool, ass red—but that smirk. That cocky little smirk that only belongs to one girl he’s had the pleasure of attempting to ruin, and that damn smirk belongs to you. A smart little girl in Jungkook’s territory, daring enough to deem him “daddy” and even more bold as to play games in his presence despite the fact that you had been at his complete mercy.

The way you’d reacted and bantered with him had been branded into his mind, and you’d been terrorizing him even though your physical presence in his life was lacking.

And tonight is not the first night you had entered his dreams and made him like this—cock stiff and weeping, his heart thrumming with the need to dominate and make you submit.

Yet…his dependence somewhat scares him, because he doesn’t need you, so instead he turns his frustration elsewhere—stepping forward and throwing open the double doors leading into the Play Room.

Girls are thrown over the couches and chairs, eyes groggily popping open at the sound of someone entering. They’re wearing nothing but collars or piercings, typically not needing clothes when their services are needed by many of Namjoon’s men throughout the day.

Eyes widening, the girls can hardly believe their eyes when they spot that its Namjoon who has interrupted their sleep, and any rude thoughts that had come to mind fly away. They all scramble to their feet, watching as Namjoon looks them over, their mouths already slack as their gaze drops to the tent in his pants.

“Don’t make me ask,” he simply states, voice gruff from sleep, and undresses himself before sitting down in an arm chair. Obedient as always, the girls immediately surround him, hands roaming his tanned skin and their mouths parting to release quiet moans.

Namjoon closes his eyes as they work, eyebrows furrowed as lips caress his neck and chest, a small hand boldly wrapping around his cock. They tug skillfully, a mouth descending to enclose around the head of his length. The wet warmth comforts him, coaxing his orgasm towards the surface, but even so he still feels unsatisfied.

These girls have no voice—no effect on him. They don’t make him cocky—don’t give him a challenge. They’re here to please and nothing more, there’s no feeling behind their actions, no reaction behind what they feel.

When he opens his eyes he sees a girl knelt before him, mouth engulfing his cock, her eyes locked on his, waiting to receive his approval. But that’s all she cares about, making sure the Devil is happy with her work, and that doesn’t get Namjoon off.

It used to, in the drunk hours of the night, but not now.

Now he only sees the girls face and wishes that she could be you—trying your best to please him earnestly, searching for a reward yet also getting off despite the pain. A spicy, yet innocent demon—one that he wants to get his hands on once again.

“Fuck,” he growls, reaching down and shoving the girl off of him.

“Sir?” she asks in surprise, nervousness overtaking her tone. Standing up, Namjoon quickly steps into his pants, cock still hard against his leg, and looks back at the girls. His eyes are dark.

“You all did fine, go back to sleep.”

With that he exits the room and storms up the stairs. When he reaches his private quarters, Namjoon slams the door shut behind him, feet gluing to the floor a few steps inside the room. His eyes lock on the spot where he’d first saw you—hands bound above your head, body bare and utterly perfect.

Hand sneaking beneath the band of his pants, his palm strokes his cock, breath turning shaky as he recalls his memory of that day. Your ass, your lips—the way your pussy had felt around his cock. The way you’d obeyed him yet had made sure to retain your independence with wit, and the thought of your snarky words alone has a growl building in his throat, wrists twisting and his eyes fluttering shut.

He recalls your slicked thighs and quivering muscles as he’d touched you, and his teeth grind, dick aching under his touch. The temptation of your wet, warm walls enclosing him and taking him so wonderfully is what sends him over the edge, a gravelly curse sneaking past his lips as he cums in his own palm, the white substance accidentally painting the inside of his pants as well.

Eyes reopening, Namjoon stares down at himself, eyes burning maroon as confused anger passes through his skull. He doesn’t remember the last time he got off like this—like a blushing virgin boy, jacking off to fantasies in his head. He’s always had people to service him—to do his bidding, to take care of his needs. And the girls eat him up, truly. A chance to pleasure the Devil—what lower level, horny demon would pass the opportunity up?

But now they’re not enough for him, and it’s frustrating to realize that he wants you. God, you of all people—a random demon he hadn’t even known about until two weeks ago. But…fuck, something about you has him yearning for more…

“Fuck,” he growls, running his unsoiled hand through his hair. Namjoon walks forward and steps out of his pants, discarding his shirt on the bathroom floor as he strides into the white-tiled room, hand reaching out to start the shower.

He wants you but he’s not sure if you want to see him again. After all, he’d taken you under his mercy, even if you had enjoyed it (at least judging by the way your body had reacted).

But why should he care about the way you feel? He’s the Devil, he can have what he wants.

So, attempting to push his worries aside, writing it off as an emotion he shouldn’t need to bother with (even though the question of: do you want him like he wants you? remains), Namjoon steps into the steaming shower and decides that the next time you come to his mind he won’t hold back. He’ll come and find you.


Darkness descends upon Hell, the artificial sun fading away. The sky changes shade as the ball in the sky fades from yellow to dimmed white, craters appearing on its surface—a little feature added to mimic the look of Earth’s moon.

Namjoon has always been interested in Earthlings and the way that their world functions, Jungkook muses, nursing the glass of juice the bar tender had passed him. Well—half juice, the other half is vodka, but he hates to drink it straight. He typically despises being teased by his hyungs as the youngest, yet in this instance he’ll resign to his younger age. Sweet drinks are still his favorite.

Taking a swig of the concoction, Jungkook’s eyes shift sideways, head turning as he survey’s the laden bar. Most of the patrons he knows briefly on a name or face basis. It’s his job as the 3rd level guardian to know those he needs to keep tabs on.

However, mixed into the crowd are unfamiliar faces as well—people who are likely from Hoseok or Jimin’s level. It’s rare that anyone from Jin’s or Taehyung’s levels ever comes up for a visit, and typically the high class demons of Namjoon’s domain stay mingled amongst their own rank. And, of course, people from Yoongi’s dusty basement don’t get out much either, or…ever, really.

Sighing, Jungkook turns on his stool and takes another mouthful of his drink. Slyly, his eyes glance to the corner of the room where you and your friends are sitting, chatting away about one thing or another.

A couple days after Namjoon had deposited you back home, you had bumped into Jungkook, slapping your hand against his chest angrily at the way he had treated you before. Jungkook had laughed, taking your hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, apologizing for his actions. “It was too much fun,” he’d said, which had earned him another smack, and then…an invitation for lunch. To talk.

You had wanted to know about Namjoon—what he would do next, if he would come for you again. Jungkook hadn’t been able to supply you with much of an answer. He had no idea how Namjoon would act from here on. To his knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before. Sure, Namjoon had found plenty of girls over the ages to take into his bed for one night only, but…this was different. That’s what Jungkook sensed from the situation. And his suspicions had only been confirmed when you had—

Oh, and do you know what this is??” you had asked him, looking around with slightly flushed cheeks before you’d lifted up your shirt, revealing the small, shattered black circle on your ribs.

In speed unmatched Jungkook had immediately reached over, tugging your shirt back in place, his face so close to yours that you had seen the shock in his eyes.

“That’s the Devil’s mark,” he had said, sounding baffled, his voice quiet as he had fallen back into his seat. “I mean…it’s the guardians mark—we each have one—

Pushing a bit of energy into his palm, Jungkook made his own circular black mark appear.

“What…is it?” you had asked, and Jungkook had bit his lips, brows furrowing.

“It basically…is claim? Well–,” he quickly made to amend his phrasing. “The guardians use these circles as a way to keep track of the people we especially…want to keep an eye on. The mark allows us to sense any extreme emotions—pain, sadness, happiness…ecstasy…

Your eyes had widened, arms crossing over your chest, and Jungkook had stared back at you, unsure what to say.

“So it’s basically a leash.”

Keep reading

shameless

Summary:  Shy boy loves the attention || nsfw || stripper!seb x reader 

Warnings: seb being a tease, strip club, stripping

Note: Here is Stripper!Seb!!! :) Song mentioned is Shameless by the Weeknd. I highly recommend you listen to it. This is, shit I’m sorry.

I might write a part two to this if you all like it/want me to finish it

MASTERLIST

Keep reading

Moving On

Summary: Jon and Robb meet for drinks at a bar where you sing (Modern Day AU). 

Word Count: 2,687

A/N: Here is the long awaited Jon Snow imagine, guys! Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by valyriansword

The wind stabbed at Jon’s face, cold daggers digging into his cheeks and making him grit his teeth, wrap his arms around himself tighter. Why he even convinced himself of leaving his apartment tonight was beyond him right now. But every step brought him closer to the bar until he was stepping through the door and breathing in relief at the warmth that greeted him.

Shaking off his jacket, he hung it on the coat rack and breathed warm air into his hands, rubbing them together as he approached the bar counter. His brother was already there, waiting with two pints of Jon’s favorite beer.

Jon let himself smile. “Jeyne let you out tonight?” he asked in form of greeting.

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Biggest little sub (Peter Parker x Reader)

Request: How about Tony trying to give Peter a talk on how to be big with the ladies and all, then reader whose dating Peter comes in and is laughing like “Peter is the biggest little sub there is, right baby?” Peter becomes a mess and Tony just PeTeR!¡?¿

A/N: I loved writing this, I swear. This was extremely funny! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! x


‘’Son, listen to me’’ Tony said to Peter as he stopped working on a new project. ‘’You are going to start college this year, and the most I’ve ever seen you interact with a girl in these two years of knowing each other, has been when you have talked to Wanda, Natasha or [Y/N]. I don’t mean to be rude, but you need to get yourself a girlfriend,’’ he paused, waiting to see Peter’s reaction, who was blushing and opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, ‘’and that’s what I’m here for. I’m going to teach you how to get yourself a girlfriend.’’
Petter turned around in his stool and looked at Tony, trying to find the words he wanted to say.
‘’Mr. Stark, you really don’t have to-‘’ Peter started, trying to get Tony to forget about the conversation.
‘’Oh, but I do have to. Even Barnes has more dates than you.’’
‘’Hey! That’s not true!’’ Peter fired back, suddenly offended.
Tony raised his eyebrows and smirked.
‘’Ok, tell me a girl you’ve gone out with recently’’ Tony told him.
Peter turned back to the computer and started typing random things on his keyboard, trying to look busy.
‘’You don’t know her’’ he whispered.
Tony laughed and shook his head.
‘’Peter, if you want to get a lady to date you, you have to make sure to look confident, sure that you have the world at your feet, sure that you are amazing. Compliment them, buy them gifts, and don’t get nervous. Look confident. That’s the most important thing there is.’’
Just as Peter was about to answer, [Y/N] entered the lab, looking at her phone. She lifted her head and smiled, waving at the boys.
‘’Hey, guys!’’ she kissed Tony’s cheek as she passed by his side, making him smile softly. She was like a daughter to him, even if she had her own family. ‘’I forgot my homework’’ she said, pointing to the table Peter was sitting at. She walked up to him and smiled softly at him, her hand resting on his back for a moment. ‘’What were you talking about?’’ she asked while she took all the papers scattered around the table.
‘’Noth-‘’ Peter tried to say.
‘’I’m giving Peter lessons on how to be dominant and attract the ladies’’ Tony said, looking serious. ‘’He needed someone to teach him.’’
‘’Really?’’ [Y/N] asked, raising her brows at Peter. She then looked back at Tony, laughing a little and taking all of her papers in her arms. ‘’Peter is the biggest little sub there is. Right, baby?’’ she asked before kissing Peter quickly when he looked at her and leaving the room, a grin on her face.
Peter looked back at his computer slowly, his cheeks burning red and his hands sweaty. He could feel Tony’s gaze on him, and when he looked at him, Tony was looking at him with wide eyes.
‘’You are… I mean, are you…?’’ Tony stopped for a minute and just seemed to take everything in, his eyebrows raising when he was done. ‘’So you have a girlfriend and you are the sub. Nice to know’’ he said before returning to his job, chuckling a little.
A few minutes later, Tony turned off his computer and looked back at Peter, a grin on his face.
‘’I guess you are not Spiderkid any longer’’ he told Peter, not even trying to hold back a laugh.
‘’Mr. Stark!’’

Bottoms Up

A/N: I felt like it’d been a while since I’d written anything that focused on Yoongi, so I really wanted to write something~ I started this a few weeks ago and then got distracted by life and finishing up college for the semester, but I finally finished it so here I am~ Hopefully you all enjoy it lol

Words: 3,007

Genre: Smut


Clubs aren’t your thing—but you give them a chance, because you don’t want to seem like the party pooper amongst your group of friends. Despite their efforts to get you to show some skin, though, you still end up walking into the club wearing a tank-top, skinny jeans, and a pair of laced up high-tops. You weren’t here to be hit on—you didn’t want some creep trying to slide his hand up your inner thigh. You were here to socialize, down some drinks to get over your regret of coming, and then hopefully leave with the first friend in your group who would call it a night.

So, you saddle up to the bar, waving at your friends as they scuttle out onto the dance floor—all high heels and short skirts. Once they disappear into the throng of grinding bodies, you spin on your stool, turning to rest your elbows on the counter top—

…and the bartender is right in front of you. Skinny, but well rounded—dark hair hanging slightly into his eyes, black button up fitted to his torso perfectly. His face remains void of any emotion, but when he catches your surprised stare and the slight part of your lips, he smirks.

“What can I start you with?” he asks, voice deeper than you had expected, a bit rough, but still clearly heard over the music of the club. You pause at the question, your mind blanking.

“I…I’ll take a rum and coke, unless you have something better to give me,” you say, trying to scrape up your remaining shred of composure. The male cocks an eyebrow, looking a little contemplative.

“You wanna get drunk? Or do you just wanna buzz so you can still punch the guy that tries to steal your panties? I mean you gotta throw me a bone here.”

“I don’t even fucking know, man,” you say honestly, leaning back a little to motion at yourself. “Look at me. I mean—it’s not exactly like easy access is written all over my jean-clad legs.”

The bartender hums, reaching down to snag a shot glass. “I’ve been looking at you for a minute or two now and you’re surprising cute despite the outfit,” he comments, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of Kahlua. “Clearly you’re not here to let anyone finger you in the back alleyway, though,” he continues, chuckling when he catches your blush and stunned look.

With skill, he snatches up a bottle of Grand Marnier and Bailey’s too, layering the liquors in a shot glass with exact precision. When he’s finished, he gently slides it towards you, meeting your questionable stare.

“It’s good. Sweet liquor for a sweet girl. Take it—it’ll help you loosen up a little.”

“Are bartenders usually this flirty?” you question him, downing the shot in one go (because damn this dude is making you warm already).

“Only to those who perk our interest,” he responds, taking the shot glass from you after you set down. You laugh, feeling somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah? Should I consider myself lucky then?”

“Depends on your definition of lucky,” he chuckles, eyes fliting to the side when another couple up the bar slurs for him. Smile dropping from his lips, he quickly moves around, throwing some ice into a glass—filling it a third full with rum and the remainder with coke.

“Suck on that till I get back,” he says briefly, sliding it to you, and you watch him, brows lifted in surprise as he quickly goes to tend on other patrons.

Taking the cool glass into your hand, you gently swirl the contents before taking a long sip.

You’re not sure what that bartender is aiming for, playing with your emotions like this, but…dammit, you really don’t mind.


Ten minutes later, dark and mysterious bartender is back in front of you, elbow propped on the counter, interest sparking in his irises as he listens to you ramble about all the things you don’t really like about clubs. You hadn’t exactly meant to just…open up to him, but…you’re beginning to think your tolerance is a bit lighter than you had assumed.

“I’m baffled you’re even here,” he muses, refilling your glass. “It seems like you’d rather be at home, reading a book, or doing some kind of other dorky, yet cute thing.”

Right? I don’t know, man—I wanted to not seem like the boring friend, but even when I’m here I’m still hiding at the bar,” you say, sighing, and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand. The bartender breathes a laugh, regarding you thoughtfully.

“You could always go.”

“Yeah, but…,” you begin, eyes flitting up to his, and his stare has you feeling a bit weak. “You’re here.”

At that, that man pauses, any movement stopping as his eyes fall from yours, lowering to regard the countertop. You watch him, cheeks hot, regret sinking in your stomach. Luckily, after a few seconds—instead of walking away or anything else that could potentially break your heart—he meets your gaze again and opens his mouth to respond.

…however, just as he does, the same drunk couple form before shouts for him at the other end of the bar and, sighing, the dark haired male hurries away. You’re once again left staring after him, hands fidgeting against your half-downed glass.

What the hell are you doing?


A little less than 20 minutes later—mister dark and mysterious having somehow disappeared from the bar without you noticing, you push your finished drink to the side and slide off your stool. You don’t want to drink anymore—you really don’t want to be here—and now that the flirty, cute bartender is gone, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself.

More than anything, you just want to tap out and go home, but, before you can, one of your friends spots you near the edge of the dance floor and hurries over. Grabbing your wrist, she tugs you into the mass of people, and you can’t think to tell her that you’re really not in the mood for dancing—especially considering that she has already dragged you into the middle of the action.

So, reluctantly, trying to let any of your worries go (as well as thoughts of the dark-haired bartender—who you may or may not have fallen for), you begin dancing with your friends. At first, things go well—you loosen up a bit, swing your hips, feel the music—but after a few minutes you feel a pair of hands land on your hips. Glancing down—catching sight of pale, long fingers—you realize that this isn’t one of your girlfriends.

“Sorry–,” you begin, taking a step forward, trying to let the person know that you’re not about that tonight—but the fingers only tighten, and you feel a males chest lightly press against your back.

“You said weren’t about dancing, yet when I stopped by the bar on my way out for the night and noticed you were gone, I find you out here on the dance floor,” the deep, familiar voice speaks, and fuck the heat you’d felt before is igniting your blood once more.

“You—I thought—”

“My shift was over. I left to grab my stuff and planned to come back to the bar to take you home with me, but—”

“I…what??” you say, flushing red, turning your head to try and face him, but his fingers dig into your waist, holding your still, and his lips press heatedly against your neck. That has you gasping, grinding back against him as his teeth and tongue work at your throat.

“My name is Yoongi, by the way,” he says, sucking particularly hard, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Yoongi,” you repeat, testing the name on your tongue. But his name alone rolling from your lips has Yoongi growling quietly, one of his hands sinking lower to grip your ass through your jeans. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, lifting one of your hands backwards to tug his hair.

“If you were going to take me home then take me already,” you breathe, grinding your ass back yet again, and before you can gather your head you’re being pulled off the dance floor, Yoongi’s grip tight on you wrist.

“Then let’s go.”

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TOUCH IT

Originally posted by deararchimedes

Summary : Practically everyone knows that “Touch It” is about getting a handjob… So what happens when you confront your boyfriend Jongdae about it?

Warnings : smut (handjob/penetration), language 

W.C. : 1.8k + 

A/N : I’m sorry this is… I’m sorry.


“Jongdae what the actual fuck?” you hissed into your phone.

You heard Jongdae chuckle on the other end of the line, low and with a hint of embarrassment.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific babe. What the actual fuck what?”

“That didn’t even make sense,” you replied, pacing in your bedroom.

You heard Jongdae sigh and springs creak as he most likely laid back on his bed.

“Is this about that song?” he finally asked, already knowing the answer.

Keep reading

Pretty

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Request: I was wondering can I have a request of Dean x reader where they use to hunt together and dressed kinda like a tom boy but Dean loved her and the she went on her own for a bit then like years later she’s like all hot now like wears heals and looks badass ?? Thank you!

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: A little bit of some cute Dean…


Keep reading

Possible-Future-Girlfriend

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky bets you can’t flirt for shit. You prove him wrong.

Word Count: 2.1k | Rating: G [fluff]

Warnings: None 

A/N: This idea just popped into my mind and honestly this one shot is my favorite!

Anyway, sorry for any typos 😛

Masterlist here 

*gif is not mine!


Originally posted by bovaria


Keep reading

Point of contact

Originally posted by miss-rosalie-hale

Request: Hi, can you do a twilight imagine where the reader is new to town and one day she’s at the beach and Paul sees her and he imprints on her but she’s really shy and just the opposite of him so every time he tries to talk to her she makes an excuse to leave and you can choose how it ends. Thank you!
Words: 1,132
For: @itssssxxlillian

Paul x reader
A/N: I will never be sorry for slipping books that I like into imagines.



There he was again. Paul, the ridiculously muscled cheeky faced boy from La Push beach, who been following you around since that first meeting - or rather it felt that way.
Trying to ignore your face flushing, you hid your face back into your book and hoped that he and his friends, who seemed more like a gang really, wouldn’t notice you sat at the back of cafe with your book and a drink. You tried to focus on the lines of your book but you found your eyes moving without taking anything in.
Why the hell was your heart beating so fast?

It wasn’t like you’d even spoken to him for more than ten minutes but how could you not get flustered while talking to a guy with a real life Greek God bod? Never mind the fact that you tripped over your tongue in normal conversation.

Your hopes of remaining hidden didn’t last too long when you heard his naturally loud voice tell his friends to ‘stay out of trouble I’m going to say to Y/N’ and not a moment later he was sliding into the opposite side of your booth, his flirty grin already firmly in place.
“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?” He asked, his voice brimming with interest. Did he use this voice for everyone?
“Good thanks, how’re you?” You whispered from behind your book shield. If he thought you were being rude, his smile didn’t falter.
“All the better for seeing you.” He answered smoothly like his voice didn’t make your face burn even hotter. He reached over the table to nudge your book up so that he could read the title but the sudden contact made you jump and drop with a bang on to the table.

“I’ve got to go, nice to see you.” You squeaked, picking your bag up from the seat and high tailing it out of there. Paul tried to catch your wrist, to ask for your number or apologise if he was coming on too strong but you were gone, replaced almost instantly by Jared and Embry.
“So she took one look at your face and ran off, bummer dude.” Embry feigned sympathy and bit into his sandwich.
“We always knew that there was going to be that risk.” Jared laughed.
“You two don’t know shit, I’ll get her to talk to me.” Paul grumbled and rubbed his hair with one large hand hoping that the familiar action would distract him from his hurt pride.
Jared thought Paul was coming on too strong, he’d spent months having to build up his relationship with Kim and she’d fancied him something rotten. He tried to implore his friend, “Face it Paul she’s ran away from you what five times now?”
“I make it six.” Embry corrected through a mouthful of food.

“But now I have a reason for her to talk to me.” Paul said triumphantly as he leaned back into his chair.
“Go on, spare us the grand reveal. What’s your plan?” Jared asked. Paul reached over the table and picked up the book that you’d left on the table in your haste. Now he had his point of contact.



Paul found you somewhere you couldn’t escape, at your part time job in the small diner in town. You could already feel the heat threatening your completion when you saw him sat to the counter, turning his stool side to side and waving to you. You stepped over and offered him a shaky but friendly smile, “Good afternoon, what can I get you?”
“It’s more what can I get you.” He told you, the overly flirtatious nature of his tone had dropped since the last time you spoke to him and now he spoke slowly and quietly as though he was afraid he may scare you away.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” You managed not to stumble over your words but had been worrying the edge of your work shirt as you spoke and had to remind yourself that you were a work and Paul, no matter how attractive, was a customer. You forced yourself to give him eye contact and were rewarded with his dimpled smile.
He pulled his hidden hand from under the table and put your book on the counter top. You could have jumped for joy when you saw it and in a rush of gratitude you put both of your hands over his large warm one, “Thank you so much!”
All at once you remembered yourself and went to pull your hand away, your usual blush back in place. Paul lightly caught one of your hands and held it softly, with enough space that you could pull away from him if you wanted too, you didn’t.

“Small confession, I may have read the first couple of chapters before I brought it back so that I’d have something to talk to you about. Ya know, because you keep running away from me.” He joked but despite the embarrassment you felt incredibly touched.
“Sorry, I’m not always great with new people.” You explained quietly and glanced around quickly to make sure that no one as waiting to be served and thankfully there wasn’t.
“Neither am I, but I’m willing to try to get used to each other.” His flirty smirk made a comeback.

You bit your lip, “I would like that. Did you really read some of my book so that we could talk about it?”
Paul nodded, “Yeah, I liked the talking skeleton, he’s a badass.”
“He just gets sassier, I’ve got the whole series. Derek Landry is a genius.” You gushed over the Skullduggery Pleasant series. Paul ran his thumb over the back of your hand, enjoying the, albeit brief, contact.
Your boss coming into the diner made you pull your hand from Paul’s and straighten your back. Paul clicked on quickly when you pulled your notepad from your back pocket and asked him, “So, what can I get you?”
“A burger and coke please. Oh, and your number.” He gave you a cheeky wink on the side that your boss wouldn’t see and you willed your cheeks to stay calm this time.
“Right away Sir.” You gave him a bright smile which was received and reciprocated with earnest.

Good Morning

Request: Writers block sucks! Id love a dean x reader fic where she gets wayyyy too drunk and makes a move on him and he’s a gentleman and just takes her home and to bed even though she keeps trying to get with him then in the morning all the smut.
-Requested by Anon

A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I had a super busy weekend!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, oral (male and female receiving), drunk reader…I think that’s it?

Word Count: 2.9k

Originally posted by wonderfulworldofwinchester

Thanks to the hunting dry spell that you and the boys had been in for the last two weeks, you and Dean had decided to spend some of your time out at a bar. What better way to pass the time, right? It had just so happened that you had convinced Dean to go to a slightly higher end bar this evening - and you were enjoying it. A lot. So much, in fact, that within two hours, you were very drunk.

You sat at the bar next to Dean and spun around in the stool you’d been sitting at. It was one of those ones that no matter how much you spun, it never screwed off. However, you’d been spinning almost non-stop for the last five minutes, so Dean grabbed your knees and stopped you, turning you on the stool so that you were facing him.

Keep reading

Daddy’s girl | JUGHEAD JONES X BETTY COOPER | SMUT PT ONE

REQUESTED IMAGINE!  @myterribletwenties  so it can start like when Betty and Jughead start taking things further, they start teasing each other in public as part of a bet of who can drive the other crazier to the point of no return, you know? It can be a smut series of like him pleasure-torturing her and vice versa until they finally have fun and kinky sex. I can see Betty being the one who drives Jughead craaaazy but idk it’s up to you on who you’d want to win. 


[ I kinda go with the plot anddd yeaa lets see what happens ] 

A/N: First thing first. I want to say how sorry I’am because I had an amazing vision towards this imagine but sadly I cant write it like I wanted to because I don’t have enogh time for anything. And I know you wait so long for it and 
I am so angry at myself that I didn’t give myself 100% for it. And its kinda making me sad and depressed = smad .
But I just hope you will like it. And tell me if you don’t like something. 

WARNING(S): Dirty language, swearing, smut af, daddy kink, teasing and mentions of smoking’ Betty Cooper is a SAVAGE  mentions of southside serpents like if we care. and mentions of Bryce Walker u know him. 
not edited yet

CHARACTER(S): Jughead Jones x Betty Cooper (mom and dad) 

Don’t read if you're under 18 (lmao just kidding again) 


Having an unspoken bond can mean a lot of things. Many people have the tendency to throw the term around to lovers, friends, and sibilings without knowing the genuine and authentic meaning behind it. 

Although, a meaning doesn’t have to be one with words. In fact, I believe a word that is expressed stronger through emotion is more meaningful that a word know by it’s definition from a world-know dictionary application just a click away. 

An unspoken bond can be shown in action, words, even colliding lips. It’s by the way they lean towards you a bit more to make you feel safe and secure. It’s by the way they know that you’re saying when your eyes are the only ones speaking. 

It’s magical. Yet, it’s the most dangerous and hear-on-the-line bond, because putting your entire self into one’s trust goes either ways: they hold onto you for dear life, or they let you burn. 

Now of course, I only came to think of this deep shit at half past one in the morning. I can’t sleepm and I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve had too much coffe to drink or because of this beautiful sight snoring his fucking brains out beside me. 

I slowly slide Jughead’s arm from around my waist to his side, slipping out of the sheets as quietly as I can. Before walking to the door, I slide off my pants, leaving me in my panties and shirt. Finally. I feel alive again. 

As the cold air hits my thigs, I stretch my back and walk to Jughead’s slightly open room door, slipping out with dangerous tip-toe’s. 

The only light coming from the darkness of the house is the single kitchen light hanging over the counter. I walk down the stairs, going straight for the fridge. 

I lean against the cold metal, scanning through the beverages until my eyes spot a familiar one. I grab two bottles of milk, settling them down slowly on the counter behind me. 

I latch the fridge back within itself before I take a seat on one of the stools surrounding the counter. Why I’m drinking milk at almost two in the morning? I don’t know. Am I enjoying it? Yes. The answer is always yes. 

I hear certain footsteps skipping down the stairs, soon revealing the undoubteddly messy dark locks and shirtless skin belonging to no other that him. I sit up straight, watching as he walks closer to me. 

My eyes meet his, though we both don’t speak. Instead, he grabs the bottle of milk sitting in front of me, eyes still not leaving mine as he chugs a good amount of it down his throat. His hand goes up to wipe the remaining around the corner of his mouth before he sets it down. Talent, my friends. 

I watch his naked back walk to the highest cabinet, reaching up and shoving off his toned body, muscles and all. I’d lick cake off him any time, any where. 

He reaches down after grabbing a small white box, still giving me his back as he fumbles with it. I assume it’s a cigarette box when he reaches for the lighter, the clicking sound of it evident through the quiet house. 

I turn my stool completely around to face his back, leaning elbows behind me as I watch him put the cigarette in his mouth, blowing it in the air towards the celling. I shouldn’t find this to describe for words, but in my defense, he can make a hot dog consume look hot. 

The smoke emitting artistically from his pouted pink lips, his naked skin glowing due to shine of the moonlight entering the house through windows and cracks. He’s beautiful annd he’s mine. 

Leisurely, he begins inching closer to me, the cigarette held between his fingers almost like it’s meant to be there. I can only imagine the times he’s smoked invisible to my presence. Does he smoke when he’s stressed? When he’s bothered? I crave knowing, even the littlest things about him. 

“What’s on your mind, princess?” his throaty voice inquires, suspending smoke into the air overlooking him. 

“Honestly,” I chuckle, “just you.” 

In swift seconds I feel his body is between my legs, a strong hand grabbing ahold of my head, fingers lacing into the roots of my hair. Tilting my neck to his liking. I feel his lips come into contact with mine tightly. The sudden action takes me by surprise, making me gasp. 

The way his lips move along makes me dizzy. I crave the way he latches his wet lips with mine so desirably like the last thing on his mind is letting go. 

My arms go around his waist in instinct, pulling him closer if even possible. His tongue enters my mouth, caressing and exploring, triggering a moan to escape my lips. Our lips keep a perfomance, heating the clousure of our bodies. 

His kisses become lower in pace, teasing me as he bites my lower lip, breathing into my mouth. I almost feel my knees buckling right then and there.. 

Jughead pulls away but keeps his lips at close proximity to mine, panting heatedly into my partet one’s. I gain feeling to his toned body pressed against mine, the sultriness radiating off his naked chest and shoulders. 

“Babe,” I mumble, pulling him back by waistband of his sweatpants, connecting our lips back together. 

I feel a chuckle escape his lips before his sweet taste fills my mouth once again. Peppering my sweet repeated kisses onto his lips, a smile forms onto his mouth. God, I could do this all damn day. 

“Baby,” he mumbles between kisses. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suggest, both of his hands easing from my hair and settling onto the sides of my neck, drawing shapes onto the naked flesh. 

“What?” I furror my eyebrows curiously. 

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he pulls back, confidence filling his posture and satisfaction in his words. He disposes the cigarette into the bin beside him, licking his lips afterwards. “Right now.” he determinates. 

Dammit, Jughead,” I groan. “I swear if it’s some new twenty four hour taco place like the last time, I’ll personally make sure you die mid-orgasm.” 

Ah, the true meaning of pleasure and pain. You know wha’d be funny? The cause of death: died halfway through coming. Lame ass. 

You know what’d be funnier? Saying “I’m glad you could come,’ to the guests at the funeral and having them reply. “Too bad your boyfriend didn’t.” 

I may or may not go to hell for the things I think at two in the morning. 

“Oh come on baby, now that’s just mean.” he shakes his head, faking sadness. 

I might be in love with him now but the urge to kick him in the balls hasn’t left since the day I met him. 

“It’ll be worth it, I promise and I can’t belive I’m gonna say this but I’m gonna go get you something to throw on, give me a sec,” he raies his finger, disappearing into his room up the stairs. 

Not even a minute later, he comes back with his torso fully clothed and his shoes on, carrying a pair of sleeping shorts I’ve left here once and my shoes. 

“I’ll go start the car, don’t be late,” he hands me the clothing pices, placing a sweet kiss to my forehead before he grabs his keys from the counter. 

I wiggly my feet into the shorts and pull them up, watching them hang loose and wide around my waist. Messily putting on my shoes, I follow him to the car, making sure to lock the door behind me. 

“You good, princess?” Jughead asks, holding onto the steering wheel. 

I shut the door, smiling in response. He does a double take, smilling at me in a question before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?” he inquires geninly. 

“Of course,” I lean into the seat. 

“You always had your hair up– when we met I mean, now you always have it down. You said you liked it up, but that wasn’t the case wasn’t it?” he smiles widely. 

A wide smile conquers my lips at his theory. It’s incredible how much he notices. I turn to him, my cheeks beginning to burn from smiling too widely. “Just drive, butt boy,” I fold my arms over my chest. 

“Your hair’s your guard, itsn’t it? You let your guard down for me, that’s why you let yourself wear it down around me.” he smiles, eye glistening and all. 

I let out breathy chuckle. “What can I say? You took my breath away.” 

He chuckles as he shaking his head in response. I hear him kick off the engines and begin his drive to whatever he want’s to take me at two in the morning. 

The streets are quiet, almost dead. I’ts crazy how at the same exact time right now at different places around this same place, everyone is in bed and possibly in the same position, asleep. 

The quietness echoes like seas of tranquility. My mind dozes off whike my body falls into the comfort of his warmth filling the car. I lean into the seat, making myself comfortable as i feel like this would be a long drive. 

Five minutes into the drive and I’m already feeling the need to throw myself outside this window. I cannot take this. 

Although the silence is comfortable between us, I can’t seem to get my mind off everything that’s happened right on the hood of this car. 

God damn, I remember is so clearly. His fingers, his talented, long, pleasureable fingers. They could do wonders, and I can’t keep my eyes off them tightened around the stirring wheel. 

I feel my mouth begin to gape apart, and so I shock myself back into reality, trying to focus on anything but the talented things he could do with that body. 

I sit up straight, sighing out in frustration before leaning towards Jughead’s side of the seat. I move my hand and place it on his thigh. “Jug,” I groan, gradually moving my hand upwards. “Where are we going?” I rub my thumb in circples into his inner thigh, seeing his arms tighten around the wheel and his back shoot up straight. 

“Almost there, princess,” he answers sternly, turning the wheel to a complete left. My hand stays on his thigh, mindlessly caressing his cloth covered skin. 

The car comes to a halt on the side of an unfamiliar road. There doesn’t seem to be life anywhere around a five block radius from this place. 

The lack of houses tell me this place itsn’t familly friendly. I can also tell from the strip club in the corner of this area. 

I look at Jughead in confusion, waiting for an explanation. He nods his head to me and unlocks the car doors, stepping out as he looks both ways. 

I follow his lead, stepping outsid of the car and going to Jughead’s side. Immediately, he takes a hold of my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine tightly before he starts walking, pulling me with him. 

Walking around the unknown area, Jughead’s hand hasn’t decreased in tightness. His eyes wander around the place every seconds before he pulls me closer. I only hope he isn’t planning on feeding me some jungle animals or something like that. 

We reach a gate, a big black one at that. Jughead uses his free hand to pull it up, giving me lovely viev of his perfectly build biceps. He holds it up, nodding at me to cross under. I do as told, waiting for him to cross under with me. 

The loud bang of th gate’s latching to the ground floor startles me, making Jughead to pull me to his side, rubbing his thumb over our already laced hands. 

“I’ve got you,” he unsures, moving us to another door located in the corner of the area into the gate. 

This place give me the chills. I don’t like it. 

I move behind Jugead’s shoulder, leaning my head against him as he contemplates the lock of the door. 

Presently enogh, I hear an opening sound. 

“Jug, you’re kinda scaring me,” I admit hesitantly, moving my head from his shoulder. 

He doesn’t reply, but squeezes my hand. A gesture that makes me wanna melt into him once again. 

We walk into a hallway, showcasing one the other gate door right in the center. 
Jughead turns to look at me, giving me a smile before his hand moves to push open the door. 

My mouth almost falls open as my brain registers the place I’m in. A wide open stadium with a fighting rink located in the middle of it. The largeness of the room is wide enogh to create schoes. 

I see blood scattered around the dirt floors, making me flinch to think about Jughead. An old bar is set in the left corner, seats for audiences are placed all around the rink, fitting more that three hundred people just for sitting. 

“Welcome in Southside S.” Jughead’s free arm opens wide, a smirk forming onto his lips. His movements come to a stop making me stand alongside him, taking in the area. 

“Those two weeks ago, when you didn’t go to school at all,” I turn to him, my hand still in his. “This was where you were?” I raised my eyebrow in pure curiosity. 

“Yes,” he nods. 

“Everytime you left, you were here?” i furrow my eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly. “I don’t regret not telling you about this. I knew it’d kill you, and I knew you’d try to stop me,” he shrugs, pushing his body closer to mine. 

“What’s his name?” I asked  

He shook his head closing his beautiful eyes for a moment “Bryce.. I have to fight with him, for my mom sake, babygirl” 

I let go of his hand, taking both of mine and wrapping them around his waist. He takes no time to bring his arms around my neck, rocking me back and fourth gently. 

“It’s not worth it Jughead.” 

“Look at me,” he mumbles, pushing his body even closer to mine. I keep my eyes down, not trusting myself to look into his. “Look at me.” he demands, pulling my chin up with his fingers. 

I bring my head up, eyes to eye with an angel in disguise, “He did some bad things, baby. He hurt my mom really bad” he states gritting through his teeth. 
“I will do anything for my familly and you. And I have to do this, especially if it’s something to ensure your satety.” 

“How many fights do you have left?” I inquire, barely a whisper in his ear. 

“Its not important. You know what, I’ll make fucking sure he doesn’t breathe your way either.” 

“Can I come?” I ask, pulling away from his hold with a wide smile on my face. Oh the things I’d do to watch Bryce get beaten up. 

“No,” he says immediately. “No, absolutely not,” he shrugs. 

“Come on,” I roll my eyes. I drive my lips to the base of his neck, kissing my way softly up to his jaw. “I promise I’ll be good. I just wanna watch Walker have his ass handed to him” I chuckl. “And think of all the ways I can wish you luck.” I tease. 

“That’s not gonna work princess,” he chuckles, kissing my temple gently. “Let’s go back to the car,” he sighs, re-intertwining my fingers with his. 

I exhale our frustration, knowing well enogh Jughead wouldn’t change his mind for shit. 

We stroll out of the place easily. Jughead locking the gate behind us before we make our way to his car. 

I slide into my seatt, folding my arms and rubbing my thigs together. Thoughts about have been swarming my mind the moment we left the house and I can’t seem to get rid ot them now. 

The way his strong tanned arms hold onto the wheel, as tight as his hands wrap around my thigs. The way he licks his lips when he’s focused, oh fuck, the things he could do with those lips. 

I feel the heat between my legs begin to increase as my stomach knots in frustration. I need his so bad. I’m afraid I’ll moan if he does as much as look at me. 

I keep my silence, breathing out gently and keeping my thigs tightly pressed together. Jughead doesn’t seem to notice my squirming beside him, although I’m about to explode in a few seconds. 

Minutes pass by my mind and eyes haven’t left his flawlessly sculpted body since. We get closer to his house but he slows the car down, making me groan out in vexation. 

“What is it baby girl?” Jughead speaks, turning his head to look at me with a smirk plastered clearly on his face. 

“Hm?” I attempt to look in wonder, my hands crossed over the obvious wet patch now sinking from my panties into my shorts. 

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop. Jughead’s hands harshly move from the gear before he turns his position coming forward and leaning both his arms on either side of my seat, hovering over me. 

“Tell me,” he whispers demandigly, his eyes moving from mine to my lips. Jughead licks his lips, making my heart thump resoundingly against my chest almost loud enogh for him to hear. 

I look up into his dominant eyes staring deep into mine. He doens’t move his gaze, demanding an answer. 

Sighing. “I need you,” I mumble inaudubly, looking down to my lap. 

“Come again, baby?” he teases with a tilt of his head and smirk evident on his lips. 

“I need you, please,” I whimper, locking my eyes with his. 

Holding himself to my side with one hand, he uses the other to wrap around the side of my waist, rubbng the skin softly as he gradually moves his hand lower. 

“Tell me what you want,” he traces his fingers in a ticklish motion towards my lower waist, wrapping his hand around the material of my shorts. 

Anything, just please,” I breath out, throwing my head up at the lack of contact

His hands abruptly moves to the center of my shorts. Jughead starts to move my underwear to the side, very slowly at first showing off my wetness clear and dripping for him, watching slosely to see my reaction. 

I groan at the cold air hitting my area, wanting any sort of friction against my sensitive throbbing area. 

“Look at you,” he chuckles, sliding his middle finger up and down my slit, spreading my wetness painfully slow. “Such a mess for me,” his voice deepens, lust filling his intentions as he slides a finger into my etrance, making me shift in pleasure in my seat. 

His eyes don’t leave mie, demanding me to keep my stare on his. His thumb joins his workings, pressing and rubbing onto my vulnerable spot. “Does this feel good, baby?” he purrs, panting heatedly into my lips. 

I feel his hard on growin into the tightness of his jeans , making me bite my lips surprising a moann too emit from my mouth. I may or may not faint. 

“Mhmm,” I pant, starting to feel my climax build up. My stomach starts to form a knot of frustration, driving me on edge. 

Adding another finger, he fastens his pace, eyes still not leaving mine. His lips sloppily fall onto mine, the wetness and heat of his mouth parting my lips unknowingly. 

Uhh, I’m so close,” I whimper , feeling myself come to an edge. My high almost rides onto me when I feel his fingers pull out. He leans back into his seat and begins to drive, leaving me a complete and utter mess. 

Hot and bothered. I pant out loudly, bitting my lip in frustration. I rub my thigs harshly together once again. “Fuck you Jug,” I moan, shuffling in my seat. 

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he smirks, fastening his driving speed. 

I move my shorts and underwear onto my highly sensitive area, wanting to feel any sort of release or friction against it. 

Minutes pass by feeling like hours when he finally puls the car back to his house. I angirly push open the door, coliding it back again with it’s frame strongly before I march to the front door. 

I open the door with ease, taking off my shoes and throwing them beside the kitchen place. Fuck. I’m gonna kill him. 

I hear the car noise indicating he’s locket it, soon following by his footsteps entering the house and closing the door behind him. He throws the keys onto the counter, eyeing my bothered and panting self with a snigger plastered onto his face. “Something bothering you, baby?” he fake pouts. 

“You know what, fine!” I put my hands up, shrugging “I’ll do it myself!” I huff, turning arund to march ip the stairs. 

I walk into Jughead’s room, purposely leaving the door wide open. I slide my shorts down my legs, pushing them aside with my feet before I place myself onto his bed. 

The previously messy sheets give me a feel of Jughead’s presence, driving me crazier that I have been minutes ago. He’s gonna pay for this. 

I lean myself over again the headboard, shutting my eyes closed and throwing my head back. I feel my back arch when I let my hand reach contact with my white lace covered wetness. 

This is the only time I’ll thank Jughead’s dad for leaving him here alone. 

I rub myself, humming in satisfaction. I move my legs upwards, pulling off my panties and shoving them onto the floor. I keep my eyes closed, my hands in-between my thigs over my bundle of nerves. 

I hear Jughead’s footsteps come closer by the second, getting me excited. I moan loudly, wanting to grab his attention. And no doubt, seconds later, his body appears at the front of the door, his eyes plastered onto my pleasuring hand. 

He bites his lips, coming closer to the edge of the bed. Jughead leans forward, placing his face right in front of my knees, his eyes filling up with lust and passion. 

I spread my knees apart, openin up my legs and shoving myself to him completely. He groans at my dampness licking his lips. 

The cold room air touches my heat, and the shine of the moonlight made it glisten somewhat. I know he couldn’t resist the sight of me at such an angle. 

He brings his face closer to my opening. I feel his hot breath panting in lust as I moan in complecency. 

I trace a finger up and down my slit in front of him, smiling to myself when I see his eyes widen in their desire for me. I play around the patch of wetness moaning when I press into it. “Jughead,” I moan, knowing well enogh how to tease him. 

Jughead’s stare fixates right onto my area as my fingers playfully spread the folds apart. “I want you so bad, baby girl,” he groans, palming himself though the tightness of his clothing. 

I take his pleas, drawibg out a long groan when I play out myself for him. 
“I thought patience’s a virtue, baby?” I smirk 

He watches intensively as I roll the pad of my pointer fingers around my swollen sensitivity, giving me a sensible feeling of pleasure. I can’t lie how much I want him. So badly. 

My teeth tug my bottom lip hard, trying to repress a groan at the sight in front of me. Jughead lustfully and beautifully begging. What a beautiful sight. 

My body feels like it’s on fire and I could feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I close my legs tightly in exasperation, wanting nothing more that feel relase, to feel him. 

I feel the heat of his panting at the top of my thighs, making me throw my head back at the close proximity of our bodies, with no satisactory contact leading to pleasure for either of us from one another. 

“Open up for me, princess,” he demands, eyes darkly looking into mine, gently caressing his free hand over the sides of my thigh. 

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Punish me?” I reply back sarcastically arching my back in order to tease him. 

“Oh no, baby,” he smirks, pushing himself up on the bed, hovering over my entire body as our faces come lining each other. His hands keep him up, makin his veins pop out artistically from his biceps down to his arms. 

“I don’t punish. In fact, I’d like to make it up to you, princess” he tilts his head, licking his lips painfully slow for me to watch. 

“And how are you gonna do that?” I murmur, letting my lips brush onto his. 

Let my hands move to his neck, holding it lightly as I let my fingers play with the ends of his hair. 

“I plan on apologizing. First with my fingers,” his raspy voice speaks promisingly,” he places a featherlike kiss onto my top lip. 

“And finally,” he grinds his hardness onto my spread legs, making me whimper. 

His lips move to my neck, kissing so distressingly slow down across my jaw, licking and nibbling at the skin. 

I pant heavily while he hums against the base of my throat. “I’m gonna make you come so many times, you’ll be begging me to stop,” he smirks. 

Jughead cocks his head up. His hand moves to my jaw, holding it lightly. I feel his thumb come in contact with my lower lip, brushing his thumb over the soft skin roughly from one side to the other. 

“— and you’re gonna love every second of it, right princess?” 


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Wedding Night 

Prince Jon Targaryen arranged marriage au

Princess - she was a Princess now, Sansa thought as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother normally brushed out her hair at night, counting the passing of the bristles each time as they glide through the silky auburn river. Sansa had lost count of her brushstrokes, or she hadn’t even started - she wasn’t sure. She was too lost in the act of staring at the image of Princess Sansa Targaryen - a maid wedded and not yet bedded.

Her hands trembled like the rustling of leaves in a breeze as she set the boar-bristle brush down upon her vanity. Her mother had warned her this morning as she was twisting pins of pearls into her braids to expect some pain, but if her husband is good to her, the discomfort will not be the lasting memory of this night. She so dearly hoped that Jon would be good to her.

Sansa closed her eyes, shutting off all distractions apart from the pop and crackle of the fire in the hearth. She focused on her deep intakes of air and her slow releasing breaths until her heart seemed to give up its quest to break free from the cage of her ribs.

However, the loud clunk of the door being barred behind her reignited the galloping in her chest.

“I’ll not touch you if you don’t want me to” her new husband rasped, his voice cracking like delicate eggshells.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. She stayed seated and watched him behind her in the mirror.

“If you want to-” Jon’s eyes flitted to the large bed and then returned to the back of Sansa’s head “or if not, we can just sleep…..whatever you want…we’ll do whatever you want.”

Sansa rose from her stuffed stool and turned to face her husband. Twisting her hands together was not helping at all but she couldn’t seem to stop - that is, until she noticed the way Jon struggled not to draw attention with his storm grey eyes to her exposed calves and the low neckline of her shift. Something warm bloomed from within. She is a woman now, she is a wife - a wanted one if Jon’s laboured rising and falling chest was any indication. Her fidgeting suddenly became manageable. She straightened her spine and wet her lips.

“I want you to be good to me, Jon.” 

You Need Some Help?

Title: You Need Some Help?

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 3,061

Warning: Yummy delicious smut

Request by @just-j4c1yn said: Would it be possible for me to get a smutty Sam x Reader (female) where the reader is super short? I’m only 4’9” and the closest I’ve seen to my height is someone (maybe you!) described the female reader as being 5’2” in a snappy comeback to Sam. Maybe they meet in a bar and it’s a one night stand or something?

Summary: Your friend, Luke, recently opened up a bar in town and you decided to check it out. While he was talking with customers and making sure things were running okay, you decided to play some pool. The only struggle you were having now is that you couldn’t reach the blue chalk cube for your pool cue.

A/N: So, so sorry this took a bit to publish. I hope you like it! Enjoy!!


 

“Son of a bitch!”

You muttered under your breath as you reached as far as you could, up on the tip of one foot as you stretched your arm as far over your head as it would go. Of course Luke decided to make the shelf with the chalk cubes high as all hell. And of course they had been pushed to the back of it.

“You need some help?” a man’s voice asked from behind. You rolled your eyes, ready to sass whoever was designating you as a damsel in distress.

“No, actually, I’m completely,” the gorgeous giant in front of you took your breath away, “fine.”

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Anxiety didn’t understand it sometimes. How could someone like Roman -i.e. Prince, romantic, confident, handsome, magnificent- love someone like Anxiety - i.e. a depressing list he didn’t wanna get into.

And it wasn’t like Roman was lacking choices- He was creativity, he had any choice he wanted. Any choice he wished to have.

“I don’t get it,” Anxiety finally voiced one day, as he watched Roman paint across a canvas, colors blending together to create a beautiful scenic view of river and fairies.

“Get what?” Roman looked back, and Anxiety smirked when he saw the paint coating his face. When he really got into his work, all his personal grooming was for not. Anxiety had once had to literally wash his hair five times to get all of the glue out of it.

Roman looked back to his painting, “I’d think it to be self-explanatory.”

“Not the painting you dolt,” Anxiety rolled his eyes and Roman frowned and turned back to his work.

“I meant, how come you chose me?”

For his credit, Roman didn’t stop working, knowing not to interrupt until the other was done, lest he never speak of it again in the next millennia.

“You could literally create the perfect boyfriend. So why would you choose me?”

Roman stifled a laugh, and finally turned around on his stool.

“Virgil, that’s exactly why I chose you. You are so unique. I can create a thousand replicas, and never have another you. I take you, I’d choose you over any ‘perfect’” -he made quite the expressive and dramatic use of air quotes- “clone any day.”

“You’re a beautiful canvas, and what you create, day after day after day, is more valuable than any museum could pay for.”

He smiled.

“Well, same.”

Virgil liked the way that made the other laugh.

dangerous love | pt.5

warning: smut, swearing, feeeeelings 

type: bodyguard!calum 

word count: 5,181 

a/n: i’m sorry it takes me a decade to update anything :( i hope you like this part, let me know if you want more. 

*inspired by the bodyguard (1992)*

part one // part two // part three // part four 

Your back fell onto the bed and within seconds, Calum was pushing your legs apart as he stood between them. You ran your fingernails up and down his arms, while his mouth was on yours, attacking it with bruising kisses. Arching your back up from the bed, you pushed your chest into Calum’s to be that bit closer. His fingertips danced across your thighs before he ferociously gripped them and dragged your body further down the bed, towards him. 

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thecrownedrose  asked:

So I've seen this done over and over and I still love the trope of Bucky being a little shit about teasing the fuck outta you if he overheard you having a sexy dream about him. But just imagine the situation reversed! Overhearing Bucky having a sexy dream about you, moaning your name, his cock twitching and hardening, low grunts escaping his lips. Mmph!

This is what my other wife requested!

Kind of smut, so 18+ under the cut. Lots of Dirty talk and Bucky having a wet dream.


You had catch Bucky sleeping on the couch several times, it was normal or so you thought. After all he tended to have nightmares and would go to the common room and watch tv, to distract himself. You were walking pass the door when you heard him call your name, weird because you had taken your heels of to not wake anyone up. But apparently you had woken him up.

You made your way inside the room and find Bucky sprawled on the couch, he was a asleep and shirtless, his grey sweatpants slung low around his hips, his lips slightly parted as a low growl leaves his lips and your curiosity peaks.

“Y/N fuck” He’s moaning your name and your cheeks blaze, you swear you haven’t seen a more beautiful picture. You stay there, staring at him and a weird sense of pride takes over you, Bucky Barnes is having a good dream, a sex dream, a dream he’s actually enjoying about you. Your eyes travel to the bulge between his legs and you almost moan, hipnotized by the sheer size of it, how it tiwtches in his mind and you wonder if he’s wearing any underwear, rumor has it that most of the times he doesn’t.  Not that you’ve been paying attention to that. “Y/N, doll… Just like that” You have to bite your lip, he looks good enough to eat like that, his face is scrunched up in pure pleasure and you swear is something you culd see every day and never get tired of it. His hips lift of the couch and you see a wet patch appear in the front of his pants, Bucky stirs in his sleep and you get out of the room with a smile on your face and a plan forming on your mind.

Next morning you sneak into Bucky’s room andsteal the shirt he had been wearing the day before, the make your way to the kitchen where you find him head first in a book, you smile to yourself.

“Morning, Buck” You turn around and reach for a mug in th highest shelf.

“Moring, Doll” He pauses for a second and then asks “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah… I ran out of clean clothes, sorry” You turn around and smirk when you find him staring at you “Your clothes smell good”

Bucky blushes and you swear is the most adorable thing you’ve seen in your life “Thanks?”

“How was your night, by the way? You fell asleep  on the common room again” You drink a sip of your coffee and smile “Not that I’m complaining, you’re pretty adorable when you sleep” His cheeks get even redder and you feel the need to kiss him, but decide against it.

“It was good” He looks down at his mug “I had a nightmare, but that’s part of life for me”

“Well, when I came back you didn’t seem to be having a nigthmare” You caress his leg with your bare feet “What were you dreaming about?”

“Nothing important” You watch as Bucky takes a long swig of coffe.

“You can tell me. I promise I’ll keep your secret” You keep caressing up and down his leg with your feet, until he wraps his hand around your ankle.

“Stop that” There’s a sutil change on his expression “You’re making it hard to think”

“Is that the only thing I’m making hard?” You giggle and Bucky tightens his grip on your ankle.

“You know, doll? You shouldn’t start things you’re not going to finish” He bites his lip.

“You know me Sarge, I never start shit if I’m not going to finish it” He lets go of your leg and you lean over the kitchen island “Are you going to tell me why were you moaning my name last night”

Bucky gets up and rounds the island, turning your stool around and caging you between his body and the kitchen island “You really wanna know, doll face?” You look him straight in the eyes and bite your lip, nodding “I had this really vivid image of you on your kness, like a good, girl and with that pretty mouth of yours full of my cock” He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin “And then, you were on your hands and knees, with my fat cock deep inside your cute pussy” He grabs the back of our neck with his metal hand and you gasp at the coldness “Is that what you wanted to know?”

By the time he’s done talking your tighs are closed together and you’re clenching them hard, trying to find a way to relieve some of the tension between your legs, your brain is barely working and all you can say is “Fuck, Bucky. I never imagined you were that good at dirty talk”

Bucky chuckles darkly in your ear “See, doll? You’re not the only tease around here”

In These Arms

SPN FanFic

~Sometimes you gotta deal with a lot of bad before you get any good.~

Dean x Reader, Sam, OMC Brad

6,035 Words

Warnings: Angst. A little show-type action and injury. Sexual Assault. PG13 Smut Implications.

A/N: I did not mean for this to be what it became, or as long as it turned out, but I cannot apologize. This was inspired by @chaos-and-the-calm67 and her Bon Jovi posts which made me wake up with the song “In These Arms” stuck in my head the other day. Huge thank you to my darling sister Hazel @idreamofhazel for her unsurpassed beta skills and help. 

Feedback lets me know you want me to keep writing…

The case was working, but slowly. Sometimes the answers came like bolts of lightning, smacking the hunters in the face with obvious, stupidly easy-to-piece-together clues and guilty parties that had their crimes plastered on their foreheads. Other times, like this, the world was against them, and hours of research left Y/N and the Winchesters bleary eyed and frustrated.

The motel room was a mess, beds ripped apart and strewn with lore books. Empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers littered any remaining surfaces, and the air reeked of annoyance. Tensions were high, and the trio were at their boiling points. Books were slammed closed, sighs filled the room, and tongues were clicked, breaking the silence only to be met with narrow-eyed glances and jaw-clenching sneers. It was a bad night.

Finally, Y/N had enough of Dean’s nervously shaking knees and Sam’s pen drumming. She jumped from her spot on the far bed and grabbed her bag, huffing as she closed herself away in the bathroom.

“What’s got up her skirt?” Dean scoffed, giving his brother an “am I right?” eyebrow raise.

Sam sighed dramatically and scrubbed a hand down his tired face, diving back into the book in his lap.

Twenty minutes later, and without a word to her friends, Y/N emerged from the bathroom door, a vision in a tight black dress that barely reached mid-thigh. Her hair was down, framing her face in loose waves, her makeup was dark and fierce, and a single silver bangle glinted from it’s place on her left wrist.

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Unexpected

Hii! I know it’s been long but I kinda got stuck with this one, so this time I took inspiration from real life here and there. Hope you like it!



“I don’t like you" she said bluntly, in the same tone as one would say "I bought a new shirt today”.

He blinked several times, taken aback by her statement. It was completely out of the blue… he was just talking about the new Fleetwood vinyl he got earlier that day, couldn’t see any reason why that would lead her to such emotion.
He knew he could be a bit boring sometimes, loosing himself in frivolous details, - the flat tone and all that - but still that didn’t seem to bother her the times the two of them had engaged a conversation.

“Whaa-?…why?“ He blabbered, very confused. She didn’t know why she said that, or better, she knew why but she didn’t mean to come off so brutal, and besides, it wasn’t properly necessary. She sipped on her drink and looked around the pub, avoiding his hard stare that was burning her left profile, she was trying to think about something to explain herself. Shit, she had this amazing talent to get herself in the loveliest situations.

“I don’t know… I guess you try too much?“ She said hesitant with a questioning tone, as to ask him confirmation, still not meeting his eyes.

“I try what too much?“ He asked back, starting to feel offended at that point.

"To be liked! You try too much to be liked, I guess… I never know if what you say is what you really think or what people want to hear… It’s fucked up man, that’s what it is… And for that, I don’t like you!" She rambled, not knowing how to word her thoughts properly and getting nervous.

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