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f0ofishies · 7 months ago

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FL*SHING THEM AFTER AN ARGUEMENT

tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi, oikawa tōru

Tsukishima Kei, your beloved fiance. You loved the man to death, you swear.. it's just that he's always been like this. All of the damn time. There was one time when you argued over dinner because someone didn't want to eat Italian. Seriously? How'd you even date this guy and later on accept a ring from him.

Just kidding, he has his cute moments. The man had prioritized you a lot during his college days. He must've fallen hard for you, huh? When he did get on one knee, you thought it was a prank. Nonetheless, you said yes— already being engaged for 4 months, too!

Back on topic, he's always been a cranky mother fucker and even more when he lose that volleyball match. You looked at him— in astonishment. This man had the audacity to even be too confident in a little fun of chess?

You couldn't even believe the audacity of him. He'd been laughing at your move on your black horse.. "Gee, just get one with it, babe..!" Another ridiculing sentence from him could've sparked a fire inside you. "Hah? Seriously, why'd you even do this rematch— when you clearly don't know chess."

Your eye must've twitched at that, you love him, and you swear to that on your life. But, seriously, he's getting on your last nerve. As he quickly moved his queen, grabbing your knight in the process. You moved another piece as he smiled. "Thank god, we don't do rematches in volleyball."

Your joke immediately made his smirk turn sour. As you chuckled to your own statement, your eyes glanced up to his. He immediately gave a disgusted face at you. "What, Tsuki?—" You tease, almost pinching his face as he has moved away from your hand.

"What is your problem..?" Now that made you raise an eyebrow. "My problem—?" He can't be serious right now. And that's how he ended up giving you the silent treatment, ending the chess match when it just started. You were utterly confused... even bewildered by his actions

Knowing your fiance won't crumble to a piece of you, you just quickly called out. "Kei?" He didn't even look at you.. oh, so that's how he was going to play. "Tsuki?" No budge, huh? The man had some nerves for ignoring his future wife. "Tsukishima Kei." Last call, he finally whipped his head to you.

Rolling your shirt up— his golden brown eyes dilated at the sight of your perky, wait, wait, this was cheating. "That's right, doofus.. I know you can't ignore them." You could totally hear the clogs in his brain working. Even bouncing them a bit— He quickly pulled your shirt down. "Hey—! what was that for??"

"You're in one hell of a ride, do that shit again. I dare you, baby."

How much aura did you gain after marrying the Ushijima Wakatoshi? You, the lovely wife, as ever.. had always been the cheeky one in the marriage. During one of his games, you'd literally chant his name out so loud. Maybe the whole stadium could hear you.

He'd be there happily, holding the ring chained around his neck. Giving you a small smile— You couldn't help but beam as you show off your ring finger too! Now that was months ago, your husband came home in a sour face after meeting his parents.

"Baby, how were your parents?" You asked him, quickly smiling as you cooked your signature curry. "Fine like usual." His deep voice caught you off guard as you felt a hand crept behind you. "Oh, so what did they—" "Can we not." You tilted your head.. "Sure.. okay." You compiled because who were you to say anything about that?

You looked at him as he ate, he felt your stare. "Yes, love?" The way your hand had been tapping on to counter.. like crazy. Lost in thought, you look up at him. "Toshi.. you know you can tell me anything?" Of course he knew that so he raised an eyebrow. "I know."

You were itching to know why he's so persistent on not telling you why.. he would usually just tell you at this point. But he seriously didn't want to talk about it, so he dismissed your concerns once again. "But babe.." You whined.. something in him just snapped.

"No, can you stop trying?" You huffed at his tone of language.. it was kind of your fault for being this nosy. So now here you were having a full blow argument. Were you petty? Definitely, a hundred percent. So when your husband had genuinely left you in the kitchen. You huffed—

Clearly, he needed a lot of space, huh? Shutting the bedroom door very tight— you wanted to go sleep there, but how? He had locked it from the inside. "Toshi..?" You called out. No answer. "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" You yelled out and finally the familiar 'click!' You finally let out a sigh and practically go in fast.

He's still on the bed, clearly trying to sleep. "Toshi..~" Your sweet velvety voice intoxicating him then sliding onto the bed— even straddling onto him. Still, the man laid bare, not even checking you out. You intentionally grind, trying to find the best friction. His hands finally with all of its glory wrapped around your hips.

"Look up." Your command might've sent a shudder on your poor husband. The blood pumping down to his familiar friend down there— oh how a vixen you were.. Seriously, he saw the way you held your shirt up. Those breasts out in the air just for him. "Mmm? Want it bad?"

"I swear, wife— you're always all talk and no action.."

That Argentinan volleyball player was taken by you! Who knew he had the hots for you. Tōru Oikawa, he had recently left Japan for Argentina.. then he met you. Somehow, you two clicked. Clearly, you only thought he was just getting into your pants but nope!

The infamous girlfriend of the volleyball player never really visited his games. Probably because your work always consumed your time. Tōru was beyond okay with that— of course he was. But after such a long tiring game, all he wanted to do was a date night with you. Sadly, you were still out at work.. in overtime. How could you not remember it at all? When you came home, his first response was immediate silence. Seriously nothing!!

"Tōru?" You called out in the shared apartment, finally slipping off your shoes. Stretching your arms wide as no response. "...Babe?" You called out once more. Absolutely nothing— you panicked, of course. Already running around to find him.That's when you spotted your sulky boyfriend, buried deep into the bed among all the plushies you have.

"Shit, babe.. did something happen at practice?" You asked him as he finally noticed your presence. An immediate huffed was heard, thanks to him. "Babe..? Baby..!!" You whined the petname, trying to uncover the blankets.

There he was, your lovely boyfriend. Tōru glared at you, those dark brown hues of his. "What's made you so sour..?" You asked him once more, trying to coerce him out of his moodiness. "I wonder why." He interrupted you, that made you raise an eyebrow. "Babe..."

You were utterly clueless, even when he avoided your touches. It suddenly clicked to you, a promise to him on for a date. You internally groan at that, "Shit, Tōru you know I didn't mean to forget.." Your hand itching to grasp his— yet he pulled away once again. "You always forget about me.." He whined into your shared pillows. "No I don't.. baby.. I'll make it up to you!!" You try to reason with him.

That's what got him to lash out at you. You did kind of deserve it— so here you are on the bed trying to get a sulky Tōru out of your shared bedroom once more. An idea popped into your head! "Tōru.. I have something to show you.." You found the man finally walk out of the bedroom. His disheveled appearance still looked way too good for your own eyes.

Your fingers found their way to your blouse— giving him a sweet smile. Only halfway through, you were damn thankful for picking a good bra for today. "Baby, I'm really sorry.." You whispered. And finally— your breasts were in full view of his sight. Nothing could have prepared you for the feral Tōru ravishing you!

The man was full on groping your breasts, even fiddling with those buds.. was he really that turned on? You couldn't believe you've let him play with you like this. On the tips of your heels— you needed more friction down there, too. So you whined at him, how your cunt needed his fingers too! And that's what he did, dipped them into your soaked panties.

"Fffuck— that's not fair, babe.. yknow your boobs and pussy are my weakness..!"

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shotmrmiller · 8 months ago

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ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

#this got away from me sorry yall!!!#yeah i had so debated having ghost be like nope pricentaught ya better than that but #simon seems the type to get things done on the first time #either you learn or your arsecheeks learn #something will give soon enough #price says he's coming back for seconds tomorrow #kyle gets his on saturday #all for one strikes AGAIN i'm afraid #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #x f!reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soaps shaken after in the group chat like yall uh yall got dessert too or-#simon ghost riley smut

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dmitriene · 4 months ago

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hello. first of all thank you for sharing your works with us, they are a great help for my mental health. 🩶

would you please write ghost with inexperienced reader first time if thats ok with you?🩶

oh anon, thank you for your love and kind words, i'm so warmed to know that my work are something that is able to help you, and i hope anything you struggle with would dissappear! you won't believe, but this writing was already sitting in my drafts, so i hope you'll like it ‹𝟹

cw: dry humping, my view of inexperienced behaviour, virginity.

simon riley treats you delicately and unhurriedly when he finds out you're inexperienced, the relationship between you never went beyond kissing, and if he didn't pay attention to your uncertain, messy movements, when his rough, calloused hand cupped your plump ass and you recoiled, fidgeting and letting out an almost pained, muffled squeak, then he understood what was going on.

it's not that simon was used to girls for whom he was the first, and all his previous relationships were hard to call with this word, rather they were convenient meetings for some good sex, but even so, your embarrassment, your fragile, chirping words about “being sorry, but you don't want to rush”, didn't push him away and didn't make him angry, on the contrary, he nodded knowingly, tracing your hip with his thumb, voice a reassuring rasp.

slowly, he let you get used to his touch, to the intimacy, to the light strokes, to the gentle kisses shifting from the crown of your head, to the temple, lips and cheeks, rubbing his nose and stubble across your skin, prickliness of which made your stomach quiver and flex, especially when the brushes of his lips descend on your sensitive neck, along every tiny mark and existing mole, hands raking along your waist, down to where the tantalizing curve tapered in your hips.

build up the anticipation, the need, the one that, with the right attitude and patience, began to bloat inside of you, itch for more, every new touch of his hands, lips, and just his close contact, made your thighs rub against each other, soddening your panties, eyes wide and desperate with each new look at simon's firm, full lines of body, and he knew perfectly well what it would lead to, he was waiting for it.

waiting for you to ask him, crawling into his lap, settling down like a affectionate cat, suffering from an inexplicable heat inside that made you rub against him hesitantly but persistently, purring, whining in his ear about your restricted desires, clinging to his shoulders and coiled biceps, the tense muscles of his thigh exerting the right pressure on your pulsing clit, and it was enough to make your head empty in an instant.

simon won't be the one to turn you down when you've come into his hands willingly, whether he's tired, not in the mood, perhaps hesitant, he'd guide you, wrapping his arms around your hips, circling the inside of your skin while tugging down your panties, but letting you get your first orgasm from a simple, innocent dry humping.

before you'll end up beneath his heavy body, fidgeting and keening at his thick, dripping tip breaches your sweet, soppy cunt, coaxing out a gush of slick, and an endless spill of his name mewled out from your slack, swollen lips.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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ddejavvu · 6 months ago

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I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him

Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.

it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.

It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.

JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"

Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.

"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.

"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"

Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.

"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.

"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"

"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"

"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."

"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."

Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.

Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.

"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."

Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.

"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

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gtgbabie0 · 1 month ago

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synopsis: {a farewell to your girlfriend before she leaves to try and get help}

I'm so tired but the season finale gave me a spark to write this, sorry if it sucks I'm exhausted lol. spoilers for ep 10!

It was either the stupidest idea or your salvation— your whole future depends on this grey box that you’re not even sure Natalie knows how to work, watching her barely keep up with the instructions that Hannah frantically spits at her.

“Nat— this is— what if it doesn’t even work.” Your words come out in one shaky breath, fingers itching to grasp at her— to stop her from wandering up those mountains because fuck does the thought of her going up there has your stomach sinking.

“It’s our only chance— we have to— I have to try,” she says it so desperately, because she is, she’s never been this desperate in her entire life— desperate to get the hell out of here, to get you out of here. Natalie will not watch you pull another damn card.

You want to argue with her, but your words seem to fail you. Your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as Natalie goes through the instructions once more, Hannah occasionally correcting her here and there, but their voices seem so far away—drowned out by the constant stream of panicked thoughts that swamp your mind, all the what-ifs making your throat tighten.

What if she dies up there, what if it doesn’t work, what if Shauna finds out— there was not a chance in hell she’d let her get away with it. what if she slips, what if no one comes, what if this is your last time together?

“You can’t go— please—” you suddenly blurt out in a gasp, hands darting out to hold Natalie’s arm— your fingers curling into the damp furs that drape over her.

“I have to— baby, look at me, hey,” Her hands reach out to hold your face with such a gentleness that it makes you melt, leaning into the roughness of her palms— “It’s gonna work, I’m gonna get us home, I’m getting you home, okay?” her tone leaves no room for doubt, she needs you to believe it.

But it doesn’t snuff out the fear that burns your insides like some wildfire, “Let me come with you.”

“No— you’ll be warmer here, safer.” those words feel a little less believable and Natalie herself can’t stop the way the tone quivers with uncertainty— she had to trust that Van or Tai— Hannah— hell even Misty will have your back if anything happens. It doesn’t bring her much comfort but she knows she’ll be faster going at it alone, she knows this damn forest like the back of her hand— snow and ice be damned. “Just stick to the plan.”

You give her a jerky nod, trying to be brave— “Okay, yeah,” but the way your voice breaks tears that attempt up and she can’t stand it. Natalie tugs you into her arms, her embrace tight, hand clasped around the nape of her neck.

“I promise we’re gonna be okay— I’m gonna see you again, soon.” She promises, fingers tangling in your hair at the back of your head to keep you close for just a moment longer. “You promised me a real date, remember?”

A teary chuckle rips from past your lips, leaning into her touch a little more— relishing in these last few moments of warmth as she peppers kisses to your cheek, “Yeah, I remember— I remember.”

The persistent howling echos out throughout the trees, a hauntingly familiar noise and you get an eerie feeling of déjà vu— it makes your skin itch.

She pulls back, nodding over to Hannah firmly— gaze flickering back to you, brows cinching in pain. “I gotta go.”

“Be safe—”

Natalie nods once more, swallowing back a sob that climbs up her throat— “I will, I swear.” she drops her forehead against your own.

“I love you, Natalie, I love you so much.” Your words are slightly muffled against her lips, spoken between kisses as she replies with an equally muffled— “I love you too, so fucking much.” and she deepens the kiss until her lungs ache— breathing you in and squeezing you in her arms before walking away, grasping onto that grey box like a lifeline.

Natalie doesn’t look back. She’ll see you soon.

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southernimpala · 9 days ago

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frontseat

sam winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ you and sam make a gas station run with the impala by yourselves

notice ↬ the love for the first part was so overwhelming so thank you soso much !! so here is (hopefully) a satisfying pt 2 :) , fluff, dean being a wingman is one of my fav tropes ever, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ read part one ↬ backseat

it’s nearly twilight; a dark blue coloring the sky like paint strokes, blending with the fading pink remnants of the sun’s warm glow. now, the moon comes in brisk winds rustling the trees and sweeping over baby as she cruises down a dimly lit backroad, tree silhouettes stretching for miles.

the soft rumble of the impala has never been louder in your ears as you practically beg it to fill the deafening silence between you and sam in the front seat.

it’s been a week since you overheard his and dean’s little conversation as you pretended to be fast asleep. to you, it was less of a conversation and more of a confession that confirmed any subconscious suspicions you weren’t even sure you had.

but now, even though you know sam feels the same way you do tenfold, everytime you even remotely try to get those three terrifying words off your tongue, you’re rendered speechless.

dean can see how you’ve changed toward sam ever since, not that he has any clue you were honing in on their talk. he noticed how you linger against his skin when your fingers brush accidentally while collecting scattered papers, only for you to pull away quickly like an electric shock.

he noticed everytime sam would make a joke, you’d laugh harder—which wasn’t out of the ordinary, you always laughed at sam’s jokes harder than you ever did with dean’s—but, now, there was something in your eye when you looked at him as you erupt in giggles.

which maybe—you suspect—is why he sent you and sam on a run to the gas station, something about dropping his toothbrush on the grimy motel bathroom tiles and having a persistent craving for pie. he’s trying to scratch your itch. and sam has no idea.

“i just saw you brush your teeth,” sam had argued, but he was already slinging his carhartt over his broad shoulders, “if you want something, go get it yourself.”

“yeah, well, i’m already in bed,” dean shot back, tucking his hands behind his head and snuggling against the pillow propping him up against the wall, “oh, and, if they have those little boxed pies—”

“yeah, yeah,” sam rolled his eyes, stuffing his wallet into his jeans before turning to you, “you want anything?”

at sam’s question, dean sat up straighter, “woah, woah, you’re both goin’.”

you and sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“what, why?” you both asked simultaneously.

dean cleared his throat and reached over to the nightstand to shamelessly hold up the porno tv guide pamphlet, with a look on his face that read: do i even have to explain?

sam’s face faltered a little, and before you could blink, he was snatching baby’s keys, “alright, enough said.” but you caught the look. the ‘what are you trying to do’ look.

now, you’re searching through dean’s mixtapes on your way back from the gas station, this time, a unicorn toothbrush—it was sam’s idea—and a boxed pie pumped full of preservatives in the backseat, with a million different ways to blurt, ‘i love you’ running circles in your head.

“find anything good in that junk pile?” sam asks, a smile playing on his lips.

you scoff, “hey, just because dean isn’t here doesn’t mean you can make fun of mullet rock.”

he puts one of hands up in surrender as you slide in a tape with REO SPEEDWAGON written in big, inky letters. as music starts to flood in the car like the bright street lamps once you make it out of the forest, you begin to get antsy; stealing glances at sam’s perfect side profile illuminating in the hazy yellow glow and the twinkle in his eye from the moon falling in from the windshield everytime he slightly tilts his head in concentration.

your heart feels like it’s continuously falling through your body. you swear when sam catches your gaze for a split second, you ascend to heaven, remembering everything he said about you when he thought you couldn’t hear.

it’s a soft kind of admiration. fluffy like the overcast clouds in the sky, gentle like his touch when you’re hurt. you ache.

“maybe this song isn’t so bad,” sam admits, head bopping slightly to the guitar filling the impala, “better than zepp.”

you scoff, “right, because i remember you only like songs produced past ‘95.”

“when did you hear me say that?” sam asks, and suddenly, your stomach drops, because maybe you were supposed to be asleep when he was teasing dean about obnoxiously inheriting their dad’s music taste, you can’t even remember.

“u-um,” an awkward laugh passes your lips, “it’s just a hunch i have.”

“ahh, right,” he says unbelieving, and a breath of relief passes through you, “you just know me so well.”

“what, think i don’t?” you ask, pretending to be offended.

“no,” he says softly, the smile that spreads across his face is so instinctual you aren’t even sure he’s aware of it as he stares longingly through the windshield, like a thought only he’ll ever know birthed the grin, “no, you do.”

as the car ride drags on, the night completely overtaking the dimming sky, sam mumbles absentmindedly, “can’t believe dean sent us to the farthest gas station in town.”

you subconsciously roll your eyes, of course, he did.

“you know how he feels about his porn,” you joke, trying to cover the blush creeping across your nose and cheeks with your hand as it props against your window.

sam shakes his head, “he’s disgusting.”

“it isn’t so bad,” you try to reason, mustering up every courageous bone in your body to say, “when it’s just the two of us, i mean.”

sam tries not to take his eyes off the road for too long at a time to look at you, but you can tell he’s dying to get a clear image of the look on your face.

“what—”

“sam, i—” but before you can let the words spill out, tripping over themselves on your tongue in eagerness, anxiety pooling in your stomach like trapped butterflies, the motel sign comes into view, vibrant and neon.

he pulls into a spot right in front of your room, the blinds broken and crooked to where, if you squint hard enough, you swear you can see dean laying on the bed, probably watching some mindless television as he waits for the two of you to bust through the door, lips locked and all.

sam twists the engine off, the impala now dead silent, save for the crickets outside seeping through the open windows. your fingers twist at the fringes of your denim skirt, goosebumps arising on your skin as the brisk winds sweep across you while you sit stagnant, and the feeling of sam’s eyes on you is not helping.

“what’s been going on?” he asks finally, twisting to look at you completely. “this whole week you’ve been acting weird.”

“have not,” you choke out, gaze trained on your legs as fabric threads through your hands.

“have to,” he mocks teasingly, and the urge to slap him, or maybe just kiss him already, becomes unbearable, “it’s like you wanna say something but can’t get it out.”

“maybe you have something to say but can’t get it out,” you retort childishly, because now you’re getting defensive.

even if you know he feels the same, that there’s no risk telling him how you feel, there’s still a risk. having sam become something hunters don’t get the chance to experience was terrifying the hell out of you. it only takes one bad hunt, one injury, and letting yourself succumb to the love exploding through your body every time you’re in his proximity would be like suicide.

“look, i just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, softer this time, and you almost don’t want to look at him because you know if you do, you’ll melt.

“i—i’m fine,” you try to muster, but the facade is cracking.

“look at me,” he coaxes gently. your legs fall limp.

you shake your head delicately, keeping your eyes trained on the leather seat beneath you. the crickets sound louder. the buzz of the ice machine rings.

he calls your name, so soft it aches, “tell me you’re really fine, that nothing’s wrong.”

the love is so much stronger against every bone in your body screaming at you to not lift your head and keep the shield around your heart.

when your eyes meet, suddenly, you aren’t in a parking lot, not in baby. you’re in a black void with sam as the only sight in your vision, glowing in the ugly yellow light coming from somewhere, with a look that says he thinks he knows what you’re going to confess, because he wants to confess the same thing.

“sam, i love you,” the words fall in an uneasy breath, eyes wide in fear, in shock, in love.

he exhales, shaky and broken, but it takes a single beat of his heart to reach his large hand around, cupping your head before pulling you to meet his lips, crashing hastily like making up for all the times he wished he could.

it’s messy. teeth clash, lips swell, cheeks flush, hands shake as you reach to graze your fingers against his smooth jaw. when you pull away, you're both breathless, leaning against your foreheads across the center console, desperate for another taste.

the smile of relief on his beautiful face copies on yours, eyes staring so intensely into each other's, your souls mesh through the hazel color you want imprinted in your pupils.

“you love me?” he breathes, like he can’t believe it.

you nod, a giggle escaping, “i’m so scared, sam.”

he nuzzles against your forehead, like he knows what you mean, but the grin never falters, “i am, too.”

you sit together for a minute, lips catching, unbelieving short kisses that settle the reality deep in your bones, before he asks, “why are you saying this now?”

you debate telling the truth, then a raw, genuine laugh breaks out of your chest, “i was listening to you and dean talk last week.”

his fingers moving in gentle caresses against your cheek halt, and he pulls away slightly, “you weren’t asleep?”

you shake your head, popping the ‘p’ on when you respond, “nope.”

he runs a hand through his hair, like everything begins to make sense. his mouth opens and closes like a flytrap, trying to muster some kind of cocky, sarcastic remark back to your revelation, but before he can say a word, a shadow appears behind his head in the car window, making you shriek.

sam whips around, ready to knock the car door right into whoever was lingering, when dean throws his hands up in surrender, “it’s just me!”

sam sighs, palming his face, “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough,” dean smirks, nodding his head to you as you try to calm your racing heart, “sorry to scare you, sweetheart.”

“fuck off, dean,” you say, biting your cheek to withhold a smile.

he slaps the hood of the impala, “well, now that my work here is done, i am ready to enjoy my ‘thank you very much for getting us to finally confess our feelings’ pie, please.”

“you don’t deserve it,” sam mumbles, reaching to hand him the boxed dessert.

“thank you,” dean says sweetly, snatching it out of sam’s grip, ignoring the chide remark, “oh, and nice toothbrush, that for you, sammy?”

sam furrows his eyebrows, “it’s for you, dean.”

“no need, you take it, found a spare in my bag,” dean says, shrugging, “carry on!”

sam scoffs, shaking his head as you both watch dean scurry back into the room, barely making it past the front door with the pie fully intact and not halfway into his mouth, “he’s such an idiot.”

“a smart idiot, though,” you remind, reaching over the console to take his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together as your palm disappears into his.

sam looks to your conjoined hands, a teeth bearing grin forming that has your heart palpitating again, his head coming to dip against yours, lips parting as they graze the other’s, “yeah, really smart.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tags ↬ @h8aaz , @sacr1ficialang3l <33

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

#supernatural #sam winchester #spn #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam x reader #fluff #works

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yandere-wishes · 9 months ago

Text

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

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