#I THOUGHT I WAS DOING BETTER WITH THAT FINALLY SCREAMS WHY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadsbongos · 2 days ago

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on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse

#jimmy x reader #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing smut #curly smut #jimmy smut #tw noncon

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sp0o0kylights · 16 hours ago

Text

Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler.

This was a lie.

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels.

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd.

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either.

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person.

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death.

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find.

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?)

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends.

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate.

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise.

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end.

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out.

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government.

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest.

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout, he was getting his car out of it.

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice.

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal.

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise?

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel.

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris.

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way.

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E.

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force.

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.)

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is.

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh.

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage.

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor.

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove.

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed.

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now.

Billy’s death.

Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home.

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.”

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return.

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice.

Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did?

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82.

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed.

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall.

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all?

“Harrington?”

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him.

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good.

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind.

Lies.

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.”

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face.

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time.

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back.

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London.

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate...

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up.

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings.

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. )

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination.

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after.

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game.

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him.

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.”

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be.

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.)

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch.

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination.

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment.

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt.

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them.

How much easier some of it would have been.

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face.

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke.

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.”

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.”

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands.

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested.

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go.

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.”

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had.

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.”

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.)

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?”

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.”

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off.

He sighed a second time.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone.

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.)

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it.

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.”

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!”

“Not any good ones.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--”

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing.

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

#uncanny valley #steddie #lmao why did I ever think this was a two parter #starcourt #s4 au #Steve harrington has PTSD #and needs a hug #bad #0o0 fanfics #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #no one ever writes about them going back #time to fix that

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vonlycaonwife · 2 days ago

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Wise, Billy, Ben, Anton, and Lycaon w/ shy and oblivious reader hcs

I decided to combine a couple of similar requests together into one because it seemed easier! Plus I thought this combo would be more interesting together then separated!

Warnings: none

Oh boy, if the teasing from Belle wasn't bad enough when he was sure it was just him crushing. Then it's way worse once Fairy enters the picture.

Fairy very much had to spell it out to him that they were crushing hard on him! He just thought they were socially awkward!

Now he has no idea what to do! He was fine! But now seeing the obvious signs makes him all shy and awkward too. Belle and Fairy are having a field day in the back.

Though once he's given himself a big enough pep talk, he doesn't really have any trouble trying to ask them for a date.

…at least he didn't think it would be that hard. But now he's dealing with a whole ‘nother issue! They're oblivious! Belle is cackling at his dilemma!

All I can say is good luck to him, he's gonna need it.

Nicole, Anby, and Nekomata are all screaming internally at these two!

There's no hope for them, no matter how much they've tried to just outright tell either of then it doesn't work!

“Whaaaaat? Psh! No way! They don't have a crush on me.” Billy for the love of all that is holy THEY BLUSH ALL THE TIME YOU ARE NEAR!

“H-Huh?! M-Me? N-No way!” …my friend Billy has only let you hold his guns, he doesn't even let the other hares do that!

Even Wise and Belle have a hard time getting the both of them to understand their feelings are mutual, and they have a higher success rate!

Okay I can see Ben having a better time than the last two solely because he would be very genuine in his confession that even the most oblivious person wouldn't be able to misinterpret it.

But getting to that point is the hard part, as I can see him first thinking that the reason they're nervous around him is because they're scared of him.

It would take a lot of convincing from the other Belobog employees to make him think otherwise.

And then the next challenge comes in, trying to find the best time to talk. Honestly this would be the biggest hurdle since he would be very busy working on the company's finances.

But once he has the time, he definitely takes this opportunity to tell them about how he feels!

Yeah…this is basically the same as Billy. The others are screaming at the double obliviousness.

It doesn't help when Anton is constantly calling them his bro, which makes things worse.

Belobog's only hope is to just stick these two into a closet and wait until they finally say something, even then there's a chance it just makes things even worse!

Honestly I'm praying for these two, and everyone trying to help them.

This man has a way better chance than everyone, since he wouldn't need to be told that they're crushing on him like the others. He probably already knew.

He knows he's handsome, so it wouldn't be hard to pinpoint exactly why they're so shy around him. If anything Rina would be able to confirm his suspicions easily if he needed a second opinion.

Though for him to go about confessing, that's where his troubles lie. Since while he would be making these romantic gestures, it would catch him off guard when they're misinterpreted as platonic.

Luckily he's usually able to bounce back quite easily, quickly explaining his intentions. King of communication here.

Honestly it would be hard for him not to be successful at confessing since he's very thorough in making sure his feelings are known.

#zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz von lycaon #zzz billy #zzz anton #zzz ben #zzz wise #von lycaon x reader #billy kid x reader #ben bigger x reader #anton ivanov x reader #wise (zzz) x reader

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m0nnypie · 22 hours ago

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02. [IZUKU MIDORIYA]

✿ warnings. To all the boys I've loved before!Au, quirkless!reader, teacher!reader, aged up characters, all the boys are pro-hero (including Deku).

✿ synopsis. Your childhood letters, the ones in which you declare your love for every crush you had, ended up being sent without your permission. What could come of that?

✿ words account. 2.5k

"Argh! Shit..." You thought it was extremely unfair that on your day off, everything went wrong. Starting with the fact that you were supposed to meet up with some friends, but ALL of them canceled. Even though you knew them well enough to know that they just didn't want to go out with you, since going out with everyone but you is normal.

You even thought you could enjoy the night out on your own, but then they spilled drinks on you, your heels broke (you had to break the other one to keep wearing them) and of course you saw your "friends"

But just as you left the club to finally get home and forget everything that had happened today. It started to rain. And obviously you didn't bring an umbrella. How cliché. But honestly, it couldn't get any worse.

You were hurrying to find shelter so you wouldn't get so wet. Although when you arrived, you were drenched. As soon as you picked up your cell phone to check the time, it had died. You took a deep breath to stop yourself from freaking out.

Not in a million years would you have called a cab on your own, with a dead cell phone, in the middle of the night. You could be anything, but crazy and stupid you weren't.

"Do you need help?"

A hoarse, warm voice spoke from beside you. You were ready to scream, but as soon as you turned to look at the owner of the voice, you shut up. Your eyes widened, it was Midoriya. He was smiling sweetly at you, and it made you want to eat. You quickly pulled yourself together.

"No. I don't need it." You turned to walk away through the rain, anything was better than staying there. But you felt him grab you by the wrist. As soon as you turned to him, he had that cynical look on his face, as if he really cared.

"Please (name)- sorry, (L/N)..." You wish you could hit him in the face right now, but you know you'd come off as crazy. "I don't want to leave you alone here, it's late and dangerous..."

"And why do you care?!" You said harshly, if you were a snake right now you could probably be spewing venom out of your mouth.

"Because I care about you!" He said with conviction, and that irritated you. You started to laugh, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that he was a little embarrassed by your reaction, what an idiot.

"Really? You? You care? With me?" You kept laughing, as if it was all just a good joke. It was, but the joke was actually on you. "Are you serious, Midoriya? The last time I remember, you didn't even want to look me in the face."

He looked away from you, swallowing hard and clearly uncomfortable. Not that you minded, he didn't deserve any sympathy from you.

Flashback on -

You remember it all to this day, for many it was just another stupid day at school. But not for you, it was the day you were finally going to propose to Midoriya. A little 9 year old declaring herself, cute isn't it?

You met when you were only 4 years old, which led you to meet Bakugou. But you didn't give a damn about him, not then. You only cared about the boy with the wide green eyes.

Nothing else mattered, even though Bakugou always pestered you, even though your parents fought often, even though sometimes you just wanted to cry, whenever you looked into those eyes, all you felt was peace. Until that ended.

The first person you met (unfortunately) was Bakugou, he was fighting with his friends for some reason you didn't really give a damn about.

"Have you seen Izuku?" You unfortunately had the idea of asking the stupid blond. As soon as he heard your question, he gave you his usual scowl, but the mention of the greenish guy's name seemed to make it worse.

"Why would I know about that stupid nerd? And what the fuck do you want with him?" He shouted, as usual. You just rolled your eyes and walked away, ignoring all the shouting coming from him.

You ended up not seeing Izuku for the rest of the class, for some reason he just disappeared from your sight, you couldn't even find him at break! He even seemed to be avoiding you.

You were about to give up and put it off until you finally spotted a green-haired boy. The smile that appeared on your face was capable of infecting anyone who passed by with how happy you looked.

"IZUKU!!!" You shouted, catching the boy's eye. When you finally reached him, you saw that something was strange. He seemed nervous, and wouldn't even look at you. "Are you okay? You look bad..." you said with real concern.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore" he said quickly and quietly, which confused you because you hadn't understood anything.

"What? Speak up izu! You don't have to be shy around me! You know that!" You tried to give him confidence.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!" Suddenly, all eyes fell on you, and you stared at him in shock.

"W-what?" Hardly anything came out of your mouth, you were so shocked that you couldn't even speak properly. "What do you want to say?" You said it so quietly that if it hadn't been for Izuku being near you, he wouldn't have heard you.

"I-I don't want to be your friend! I'm tired of you!" As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes filled with tears. Why? What had you done to him? What had you done to him? You always supported him, you were always on his side when Bakugou bullied him. "You're so annoying! I don't know why you're still around me, I just want you to stay away!"

A bubbling anger began to fill you, how dare he talk to you like that? What could be wrong with him? You started to feel an urge when you looked at his face again.

"AS IF I WANTED TO BE YOUR FRIEND! I ONLY TALKED TO YOU OUT OF PITY!" You shouted so loudly that the teachers came out of the school to see what was going on.

"YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER LOSER WITH NO QUIRK!"

You didn't even pay attention when you heard Bakugou laughing in the background, or the teachers trying to calm you down, or even the tears welling up in Midoriya's eyes. You pushed him so hard that he fell to the ground.

"IDIOT! DON'T EVER APPEAR IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN! I HATE YOU!"

You ran off before anyone could take in what had just happened. The first thing you did when you got home was run to your room, completely ignoring your fighting parents.

And for the first time in years, your parents stopped fighting. They knew almost nothing about you, but one thing they always remembered, you were always happy, despite their fights, and despite everything. But not today. That day, and the week that followed, there was complete silence inside your house.

After that day, you never looked Midoriya in the face again. You started hanging around Bakugou, always clinging to him. And whenever Bakugou teased the green-haired boy, you pretended not to see.

And as for the letter, you just couldn't throw it away, so you hid it in a box under your bed, and then everything changed.

Flashback off -

"I-I know... I fucked up... but please... it's late and I don't trust leaving you alone at this hour..." You stared into the immensity of those green eyes, and wanted to vomit. "Please (name)... just let me take you home, just one ride! And I'll never bother you again!"

He looked at you with those lost-dog eyes, the ones that whenever he showed you, you did whatever he wanted. But... now it was different. You looked at the rain, it certainly wasn't going to stop now, it was only going to get worse.

"Okay. Just one ride, and no more." He smiled at you, a smile that although you wouldn't admit it, you missed. He walked you to his car, you practically standing under the umbrella so you wouldn't get wet.

As soon as you reached the car, you were surprised. It was one of those expensive cars that you would never be able to afford, I mean, not that you know that much about cars, but you know what you can and can't afford.

He opened the door for you and waved you in. He waited until you were inside and dry, before closing the door and going to the driver's side. As soon as he got in, he realized that his left side was completely soaked, which shouldn't have happened...

"So... where do you live?..." He said almost hopefully, as if you were going to run away from him and get out of his car screaming.

"Oh... I live near the station..." you said quietly, trying your best not to make eye contact with Midoriya. "You don't have to drive me to my house..."

He gave you a big, warm smile. "No problem! I like to help... and it wouldn't be right to leave you alone late at night either..." he shifted his gaze back to the front.

"Right... thanks then..." you looked away to the window. Midoriya finally got out of his seat and started driving. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he looked conflicted, as if he was arguing with himself about whether he should say something to you there.

"Um...so...how's your life as a pro-hero? Are you...um, enjoying it?" You tried to lighten the mood, but soon regretted it.

"Ah! Yes! I love it! It's great to always be able to save people when they need it...although sometimes the work gets really tiring..." And before you could even say anything again, Midoriya was already chattering away.

You thought it was cute that, even after years, he was still the same. The same chatty boy who always perked up when he talked about something he liked.

He must have noticed you staring, because he suddenly stopped talking. And he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You looked away, your cheeks heating up.

"And you? You became a teacher, didn't you?" He said, trying to distract from the recent event.

"Um... yes, I did" There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, and you hoped that you would get home soon. "And Bakugou? I mean..."

"Good! I mean... he's still a bit irritable as usual... but... well" he laughed, and you followed him. It made him smile more. A few minutes later, you finally arrived at his house. "Here we are..."

"Thanks for the ride, I really didn't need it," you said too sweetly, which surprised you, since you did everything you could not to show how you felt beyond your students.

"You're welcome..." he smiled at you. And then everything got weird again, he just started staring at you without saying anything. As if he was hypnotized.

"Um...Midoriya?" He didn't answer. You snapped your fingers in front of him. And then he seemed to come back to life. Instantly, his cheeks turned red, and he looked away.

"I'M SORRY!"

You laughed. "It's okay..." you then smiled at him, and started to get ready to leave.

"Wait!" He quickly got out of the car, running to your side of the door, stumbling halfway. All this to open the door for you. "There!"

He opened the umbrella so you could get out, and you accepted without blinking. You didn't want to get any wetter than you already were. He took you to the door of the building. Then he finally said goodbye.

"Well... thanks again for the ride..." You gave him a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you, it wouldn't be a problem, after all, this would be the last time you'd see each other.

"You're welcome..." he grinned like a fool. You then went inside, leaving him standing there alone. Smiling like a fool who has seen the love of his life for the first time.

Izuku finally got home, and of all the days, today was the worst. Starting with the villains giving him more trouble again, he hadn't had a day off in over three weeks.

But there was one good thing in all this: you. When he met you again for the first time after so long, he didn't even know how to react. Of course, even more so after Kacchan basically shouted at you.

He wished he could have walked you to school, to make sure you got there safely, but you just ignored him, which hurt him a little. But he couldn't blame you, he made a mistake with you when you were younger. He had lost all hope, until he received a letter. A letter from you.

At first, he thought it was a lie, a joke from Denki or Mina, something like that. But as soon as he read the letter, he knew it was from you, the way you spoke matched the letter exactly. And although the letter was apparently a bit old, it still smelled of her peach perfume.

That day, all their hopes came crashing back like a truck. He didn't know how to react. His first instinct was to call Ochako. What he should have known was that it was a bad idea, considering it was midnight and she hated being woken up. At least he got some good advice... which was that he should stop being an idiot and go talk to you. A big help.

But then, one day when he decided to take a walk to cool off, he found you. You were soaking wet, under a store tent. That's when he decided to act. Obviously his first instinct was to offer you a lift. At first, he saw how much you avoided even looking at him.

But in the end, one of his worst days, he got a kiss on the cheek. It sounds silly thinking about it now, but in all honesty he didn't give a damn. Everything that came from you was wonderful, no matter how small. He felt like a teenager at that very moment.

He threw himself down on the sofa, picking up the letter to read again. No matter how many times he read the letter, he would never tire of reading it again. He smiled to himself like an idiot. No matter how long it took, he would make it up to you and he would win you back.

Tag List: @mtsyik @homeless-clown @babylambdietcoke @erisawrites @kryscent @ita606 @aikojwhpa @vanillaicebaby @flilou02 @yuuuumii @angelicpupsblog @ikissfade @mrowwww @tsumuus

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ok555ficideas · 1 day ago

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Fragment of the next chapter of my amnesia Buddie fic "We made these memories for ourselves"

“Why did you tell him to leave?” Chris asked.

His voice was small and almost inaudible. He looked way younger than he was and reminded Eddie so much of the little boy he used to be.

“It’s better like this, Chris,” he replied, even though there was no strength behind his words.

He had no idea what he was doing or what was actually better for them anymore.

“Is it?” Chris’ head snapped up and his expression was full of hurt and anger.

“I thought we agreed.”

The boy looked away from him again and instead turned his gaze toward the window slightly to the left. It didn’t look like he was planning on saying anything more and he was clearly trying to hold back his tears. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Chirs to try and hide his emotions. He promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t let his son end up like him.

“Chris,” his voice was gentle and he was hoping that it would reassure Chirs that he was allowed to be vulnerable, “if I had known that you missed Buck, I would have arranged for you to hang out with him sooner. You told me not to.”

Eddie knew this wasn’t Chris’ fault. He had suspected that the boy wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but chose to ignore it because it made this easier for him. Chris not wanting to immediately hang out with Buck after coming back to LA was very weird and Eddie should have tried to get to the bottom of it sooner.

“I was scared that you would send me back.”

Whatever theories he had on the matter this wasn't even remotely close to it.

“What?” his voice was louder than necessary and he wanted to kick himself as soon as he saw how startled Chris looked because of it. “I’m sorry,” he continued in a gentler tone, “what do you mean by that?”

“You didn’t fight for me to come home. I wanted to almost immediately, because even though I was still mad at you, I missed you, but you just gave up so I thought it was easier for you to have me away.”

Eddie wanted to scream. He wanted to bury his face in a pillow and scream his lungs out. Chris thought he didn’t want him to come home. From the moment Chirs left to the moment when Eddie finally had him back in his arms he was always on his mind. Whether in the back of it or at the very front depended on the moment, but he was always there.

“And then you told me to come back,” Chris continued, “but I thought it was only because you lost Buck, so I was scared that if you got Buck back then you wouldn’t-”

Eddie couldn’t take this anymore. He surged forward and enveloped Chris in a hug so tight, he was probably making it difficult for him to breathe. He couldn’t have Chris thinking like that for even a second longer. He pulled back, but only far enough to look Chris in the eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into Chris’ hair, “I should have fought for you. I convinced myself that I deserved having you away. I was punishing myself.” He pulled back, but only far enough to look Chris in the eyes. “I’m sorry that I ever made you believe that you being away was a good thing for me.” His hand landed on his son’s shoulder, his thumb right on his pulse point to keep himself grounded. “I love you, Chris. You’re my everything and I was going mad without you and if I knew you wanted me to I would have begged you to come back every day.”

There were tears streaming down both of their faces. Chirs moved forward to bury his head in Eddie’s chest and sobbed uncontrollably. He was saying something, but Eddie couldn’t hear anything from how muffled it was. He opted for just running his hand through the boy’s curls and let him let it all out.

“I love you too.” Eddie heard Chris say after calming down a little. “And I miss Buck so much.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I do too,” Eddie replied in a tight voice.

#fanfic #911 abc #911 show #911 fanfic #911 #buddie #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buckley #amnesia #slow burn

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dracaelus · 3 days ago

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I have this hc that Bruce started letting his hair grow after his parents died.

It wasn't a conscious choice; it's just that in the months following their deaths, no one remembered something as simple as his hair appointment.

Then, Bruce kept seeing his photos all over the city—the photos they took of him the night his parents died, his face covered in blood and tears. Even worse, he saw the other pictures: the ones from back when his parents were alive, the ones where he was smiling at them, the ones where he looked happy. His uncle made sure the press didn't get a single picture of him after he saw the ones they took that night, so they kept posting "new" old pictures just to keep things fresh every time they talked about the Waynes — which they did a lot. Bruce looked at those photos and kept thinking to himself,

"That's not me."

He felt light-years away from the kid in the pictures. Bruce hadn't felt like himself since that night. He didn't know who he was now, but he wasn't him. In fact, he didn't even look like him.

He couldn't remember the last time he smiled. He had bags under his eyes — the kind he'd only ever seen in grown-ups — because he kept having these stupid nightmares every time he tried to sleep. He didn't have his parents with him anymore. And his hair was longer, bc his mom wasn't there to notice and take him to her hairdresser.

Everything changed.

His entire life changed.

And somewhere along the way, his hair became the only proof he had of this.

So when someone, likely Alfred, finally realized how long his hair had gotten and tried to give him a haircut — to put it lightly, Bruce didn't take it well. He screamed and kicked and ran, and — most importantly — when they managed to cut a lock of his hair, he cried. He cried like he hadn't cried since that night. He sobbed so hard he almost threw up.

So they let him keep his hair like that.

And it kept growing.

It was hard for him to explain why it was so important to him that his hair remained untouched.

He didn't even care for it — he made no effort to take care of it and only bothered to brush it so it wouldn't look bad enough that someone would try to cut it again.

It got even more neglected after he started on his journey around the world — there was no threat of anyone cutting it, so Bruce didn't have to worry about keeping it decent.

When he met Minhkhoa, he was also wearing his hair long. At first, Khoa didn't think much about Bruce's hair, but after seeing how little effort he put into taking care of it, he asked why he didn't just cut it and keep it short.

Bruce's mistake was genuinely trying to explain.

He talked about how it was a reminder of his parent's death and how part of him was disgusted by the idea of going back to how he was before they were gone. He told him how different and wrong he felt after their deaths and how the thing that scared him the most wasn't the idea that things would never get better, but rather the possibility of returning to how he was when they were still alive, as if their loss simply never happened. Worst of all, he talked about how in a sad way, his long hair reminded him of their absence because it showed no one was taking care of him.

The tricky thing about his relationship with Khoa is that every once in a while, Bruce would say things about himself and unknowingly trigger a "self-recognition through the other" reaction in Khoa — something Khoa didn't like and almost always led to fighting.

So they fought.

Khoa responded to his vulnerability by saying a lot of mean things to Bruce, and then the fight got physical.

Khoa went to a hairdresser that same day and got his hair cut — something he hadn't thought of doing since leaving home. He eventually learned to cut his hair himself and took special care of it, just to show Bruce how ridiculous he was for thinking he needed to let his hair grow messy and unkept just bc he didn't have a stupid adult to take care of it for him — unlike Bruce, Khoa was more than capable of taking care of himself without help from anyone.

He also tried to cut Bruce's hair in a fit of rage, but his rage wasn't quite as strong as Bruce's. He fought him like a demon, and the fight ended after Bruce bit him so hard it left a scar Khoa carried for many years after.

Khoa didn't try cutting it again, but every once in a while, when they were at the same place and on good terms — a rarity — he would take care of Bruce's hair. He would untangle the thousands of knots, brush it out, wash and moisturize it until it looked good and felt nice to touch. As a show of trust (or guilt for the bite), Bruce sometimes let him trim the ends. Khoa did this mostly out of pettiness and as a strange and convoluted way of mocking Bruce for his irrationality — but deep down, it was also bc he cared for Bruce, and he could take care of him, couldn't he see that?

Bruce finally cut his hair before going back to Gotham.

By then, years had passed since his parents' death, and he wasn't afraid anymore. He had made a decision, one that would tie him to them forever, and he didn't need his hair as proof of the transformation he had undergone. He knew what he had become now.

He cut his hair in the same style he wore in his youth, and when he looked in the mirror, there were still no traces of the kid in those photos.

He wasn't him anymore.

In fact, he didn't even look like him.

#drac rambles #my art #batman #bruce wayne #ghostbat #ghostmaker #minhkhoa khan #i'm really sad today and so have some of my sad hc

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supernatural-sophia · 9 hours ago

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Ao3 down? Here is a fic to help you through this tough time

I may have already posted this before but you know what.. sue me

(CH 1) ·:*¨༺ Looking Like You Just Woke Up ༻¨*:·

Dean breathed heavily watching the orange tear appear. He is immediately taken back to the last time Cas died when Jack was born. He remembers cradling Castiel’s lifeless body trying not to cry. Now, similar to last time, Jack is bringing Cas back, but this time he needs help. Dean looks back at his brother, who gives a nod of approval before he steps into the inky darkness.

Dean had no explanation for it, but he knew where to go. Even in walking in a darkness that was the equivalent of having your eyes closed, he knew where Cas was. He kneeled into the ink and grabbed a hand. Bright blue orbs looked upon him with no recognition behind them. Dean wanted to cry out and scream explaining that it was him and this was a rescue, but he knew he had to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake up the Empty. Dean hulled Castiel’s almost lifeless body over his shoulder and dragged him towards the slowly closing portal.

Within a few steps to the portal, almost to safety, the angel in Dean’s arms let out a feral scream, instantly waking the Empty up. The angel squirmed in his arms as they stepped out of the portal. Dean looks back seeing the Empty, wearing Meg’s face, screaming about staying out before the portal closes.

Dean was expecting a mildly upset Castiel, who sacrificed himself for Dean’s safety, but was met with a terrified angel jumping out of his arms and running into a corner, pulling his wings into vision and wrapping them around himself.

“Cas?” Dean whispered. He wanted a happy reunion. No more big bad, no more hidden feelings, just him and Cas retired on the beach (or more realistically in the bunker). “Jack, what’s going on? Why is he like this?” Dean demanded.

“I-I don’t know. He was in the empty a lot longer this time. Maybe it messed him up a bit. When I go back to heaven, I can ask other angels to see if they may know,” Jack tried to calm the upset Dean down. It had taken a few days to trick and defeat God, then Jack had to help jump-start heaven back up, which wouldn’t run without a god’s power, then Jack had to find time to talk to a sober Dean, which was almost impossible to do.

“Great. Just Great,” Dean huffed. He turned his attention back to the quivering angel on the floor, who was peaking up from the wings, bright blue, curious eyes making contact with Dean’s worried, green eyes. “Hey, buddy.” Dean crouched down by the angel. Castiel pushed himself further up against the wall, trying to make himself smaller. “Cas, do you remember us?” Dean asks. The only response he gets is the wings tightening around the angel.

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “We don’t know what the Empty really does to angels. He never spoke about his experience before he woke up in the empty. Maybe there was a reason.” Dean only nodded back, trying to figure out what to do to help his angel. “Dean. Give him some space. He’s going to need time.” Dean slowly backed away from his broken best friend.

“I need a drink,” Dean says before rushing out of the bunker.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“Thought I wasn’t going to see you today,” the bartender says to Dean, who just grunts back.

“Just give me the strongest thing you’ve got,” Dean says wiping a hand over his face.

“Tougher day than normal?” the bartender, named Anthony, asks. “You seemed to have been in a better mood yesterday.”

“Yeah, well things don’t always go the way we want,” Dean grumbled before starting to drink.

“No, they don’t,” The bartender sighed. Dean had been coming to this bar every night since they defeated Chuck. As Dean felt the alcohol finally affecting his mind, he became more willing to speak to Anthony, another habit that has happened every night.

“You know the guy I told you about?” Dean slurred. “Cas.”

“Yes, I remember. He passed about a year ago now. Is this what this is about? Is it an anniversary or something?” Anthony asked having gotten to know Dean pretty well at this point.

“No, well, Yes,” Dean answered. “Next week would have been a year.”

“Would have? Dean, now I don’t want you to do anything stupid. Should I call your brother?”

“Nah, Sammy knows I’m here,” Dean says before taking another drink. “But, uh, Cas is back. But he’s not the same. He’s all panicked and won’t speak.”

“He’s back? I thought he was killed in action.” Even when drunk, Dean knew not to spill what he believed. Anthony believed Dean was an honorably discharged soldier and Castiel was someone whom Dean lost overseas.

“Guess we were wrong,” Dean blushed. Anthony was confused and wondered if Dean was having some sort of episode of PTSD or some kind of break.

“Huh,” Anthony huffed before walking over to the bar’s phone.

“Sam Winchester.”

“Hey, Sam, this is Anthony from the bar. Uhm I think you may need to come and get Dean.”

“He didn’t start a fight again, did he?”

“No, I’m just concerned. He seems to believe Cas has come back to life.”

“Oh yeah.” Sam tries to think of a lie. “Well, once someone has been MIA for long enough they are deemed dead and uh, they found him recently.”

“So he really is back?”

“Yeah, but his mind is all kinds of messed up. We think he had been tortured this past year.” There was a pregnant silence before Sam sighed into the receiver. “I should come get him before he drinks himself into a coma. Thanks, Ant.”

Anthony hears the receiver click. He thought Dean had witnessed Cas’s death and that’s why he was discharged. Maybe he just saw him get captured? Dean only spoke whenever he was drunk, so there was a chance the stories had been fabricated or at least twisted in his mind.

“Ant!” Dean calls out. “Can you top me off?” He taps his empty glass.

“Sorry, Dean. You’re cut off for the night. Sam is heading over to pick you up right now,” Anthony explains.

“Shit. You called Sammy?” Dean slurred.

“You need to have someone take care of you, Dean.”

“Nah. I know how to handle myself. I’m not my father,” Dean huffed. Anthony had never heard Dean mention his father. He had heard his mother had died when he was young and he lived on the road with Sam but never mentioned his father, who apparently was an alcoholic. After some nonsense mumbling by Dean, the bell above the door rang, showing Sam and a young man next to him.

“Dean?” The boy asked.

“Shit, Sammy. Why did you bring Jack?” Dean complains.

“Because you are on your best behavior when he is around and I wasn’t sure what version of you I would find,” Sam explains, earning an eye roll from Dean. Usually, when Sam had to come to get Dean from the bar, it was an extremely angry Dean who would fight Sam the whole way home, but sometimes, when Anthony is especially concerned like today, Sam would find a mopy Dean.

“Thanks, Ant,” Dean huffed sarcastically slapping his money onto the table before Sam slipped Anthony a large tip.

Dean stayed quiet the whole ride home, which was not an uncommon experience for Sam by now but Jack was getting antsy.

“Dean, do you want me to remove the alcohol from your system?” Jack asked.

“No,” Dean practically laughed at the statement. “I worked hard to get this kind of numbness.” Jack looked at Sam confused. Sam sent a mental prayer to Jack explaining that Dean had just enough alcohol to make him more honest than normal. Jack still didn’t understand but decided to drop it.

They opened the bunker door to find that Castiel was not in the same spot he was when they left.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean said, stumbling down the stairs.

“Not sure. Probably wandering around the bunker,” Sam responded, not showing Dean that he was worried that Cas wasn’t there. There was a clatter in the kitchen causing Dean to stick straight up, losing his buzz. He pulled his gun out and sneaked into the kitchen to find the angel on top of a counter holding random items from the kitchen.

Dean just watched, not alerting the angel of his presence, as the angel sniffed all the items in his hand, deciding he didn’t want them he dropped them onto the floor, on top of other miscellaneous objects.

“Hey, buddy. Whatcha looking for?” Dean said, slowly entering the kitchen. Big blue eyes blinked at him before the angel sniffed the air and hopped off the counter. The angel opened another cabinet gathering the items from inside it and scurried back towards the counter. He sniffed each item carefully before dropping all but one: a box of Cheerios.

“What? You want cereal?” Dean asked again only receiving a stare before the angel disappeared with the sound of wings flapping behind him.

“Shit,” Dean said before running back to the war room, where Sam and Jack were speaking in hushed tones. If Dean wasn’t in such a panic, he would have poked fun at them, but he had more important things on his mind. “Did you guys know that Cas’s wings work?” He breathed heavily.

“Shit, no,” Sam says before standing up quickly. “Where do you think he went?”

“How should I know? He was crawling around the kitchen like an animal, he found a box of cereal, then vanished,” Dean explained annoyed.

“He’s still in the bunker,” Jack said with confidence. “I can feel him.”

“I’ll start checking the bedrooms. Sam, you check libraries and hidden rooms behind them. Jack, you should probably get back to heaven in case he tries to flee there. The other angels are not a fan of him so we need to keep him safe,” Dean explained before taking off down the hallway.

Opening every door behind him, he reaches his own room. He opens the door slowly, having a feeling Cas was in there.

“Cas, buddy?” Dean says peaking his head into his room and being met with bright blue eyes. “Hey.” Dean smiles. The angel doesn’t flee but doesn’t come closer. “Do you want help?” Dean reached for the closed box of Cheerios, which now looked beaten up. The angel clutched the cereal close to himself, not wanting to lose his new possession. “I’ll give them back. I’ll just open them,” Dean says miming the motions.

The angel looks at him, thinking about whether he should give Dean a chance. Slowly he sets the box down and slides it across the floor towards Dean, who opens it with ease. Dean poured the Cheerios into his hand before putting one into his mouth. He then held his hand out for Castiel to do the same. The angel stuck his tongue out like an animal before licking the Cheerios in Dean’s hand. Dean stood there frozen and unsure what to do before he heard Sam calling for him panicked. He put the Cheerios onto the floor and then walked out slowly, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door latched, Dean pulled his gun out and sprinted down the hallway.

“Dean!” Sam called out again. Dean froze as he entered the room. Another figure stood in the library.

“Don’t move,” Dean said aiming his weapon at the stranger.

“Now, Dean,” Chuck’s voice came from behind Dean in the hallway. “Is that the best way of greeting dear old Dad?”

(CH 2) ·:*¨༺ Father ༻¨*:·

“Chuck?” Dean turned around. “What are you doing here? You lost.” Dean demanded, aiming his gun at the man’s head. Chuck laughed.

“I couldn’t give up on my story. So what my powers are dampened? I can do a few miracles here and there. My favorite pastime in waiting for my grace to recharge is writing my books. And no offense. You guys were getting boring. Yeah, you guys got Cas back, which, ugh,” Chuck rolls his eyes. “But I want something with more conflict. I don’t have enough grace to make a new monster, so I brought an old one back.” His grin was evil as he spoke. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Dean cut him off.

“Look as much as I love a villain’s monologue, you are not welcome here. Get out. I’ll call Amara down,” Dean said flat. Chuck paled.

“You don’t have access to her. You’re bluffing.”

“Wanna test that theory?” Dean quipped back. Chuck huffed and disappeared. Dean rolled his eyes before turning back around, being reminded of the other intruder. “Sammy get down,” Dean said moving his aim back to the intruder. Sam stayed still.

“Dad?” Sam whispered. Dean walked closer to the intruder, his aim not faltering.

“Where the hell am I?” the unmistakable voice called out. “Dean, drop the damn gun and stop aiming at me like I’m some monster,” John commanded. Dean’s heartbeat quickened, but he didn’t drop his gun.

“You’re not him. He died over a decade ago,” Dean barked. “What are you?” The man paused for a moment, eyes squinting and going back in forth between his two sons.

“A decade?” He asks.

“Sammy, get Jack.”

“Who the hell is Jack? You got other hunters here?” John called out. Sam stayed frozen still staring at his father. “You going to keep staring at me or are you going to do what your brother asked you to do?” He barked at Sam, knocking him out of the trance he was in.

Sam closed his eyes and started saying something under his breath that John couldn’t hear.

“Have you lost your mind, boy?” John yelled again before a young boy walked into the room. His eyes glanced up toward him and Sam turned around mouthing thank you.

“Is it him?” Sam breathed heavily. Jack nodded slowly.

“He’s not a monster as far as I can tell. Nor angel, nor demon. He’s just a human,” Jack said quietly. After a pause, he walked up to Dean. “Dean, you can drop your gun. It is him.”

Dean slowly lowered his gun but didn’t put it away.

“You’re taking orders from some kid?” John asked.

“God, please tell me I passed out at the bar and this is just some fucking nightmare,” Dean said running a hand over his face.

“Dean this isn’t a dream,” Jack said matter of factly. “Did you find Cas?”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says taking off back down the hallway.

“You boys got a girl here?” John asked. Sam finally spoke to his father for the first time since he had appeared.

“Uh, no. Cas is short for Castiel. He’s uh, Jack’s adoptive dad,” Sam says not meeting his father's eyes, knowing the moment he did, the rage would come out of both of them and they would start arguing.

“What is he a queer or something?” His dad huffed. “That why he likes being called a girl’s name?”

Sam ignored his father and turned to Jack who looked confused. “Hey, Jack, I think it’s time for you to leave again.”

“Why? I just got here?” Jack whined.

“You remember how Dean was earlier today? At the bar? Well, he is probably going to be worse tonight. I don’t want you seeing that,” Sam said with a low voice.

“You said I could help last time. You said he behaves better when I’m here,” Jack continued whining. You could hear John scoffing in the background, talking about the boys going soft on him.

“Yeah, but that was about Cas. This one is-” Sam looked back at his father who was glaring at him. “Different. I’ll call you tomorrow if it’s uh, okay to come home, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack sighed. Sam leaned in and whispered into Jack’s ear telling him to not fly until he was out of the bunker so as to not upset John. Jack moped the whole way out of the bunker, constantly looking back at Sam to change his mind, who just shook his head.

“What the hell was that?” John yelled the moment the door closed.

“Look can you just calm down?” Sam started. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but just give me a minute to think of what to do.”

“Where did Dean go?” John asked, slightly calmer, but irritation still noticeable in his tone.

“He’s taking care of Cas,” Sam sighed.

“Oh, so your brother is taking care of a man who has a child that it seems like you are taking care of? I’d just kick him to the curb,” John snorts.

“Well, Cas just, uh,” Sam thought of the lie he told the bartender and thought something similar would work. “Look, Cas just got back from the equivalent of being a POW and he is not doing well. He’s super skittish and won’t even talk to anyone right now. Dean is usually the one who gets through to Cas the fastest, so he’s taking care of him right now.”

Sam watched as different thoughts went through his father's head before his face softened. It was something weird for Sam to see, who only saw his father’s stone-cold face.

“He’s a veteran?” his father asked quietly. “I might be able to help. I had a rough time adjusting after Vietnam.” John had a faraway look in his eyes, like the one he would have had if he had mourned Mary properly. He blinked then headed for the hallway Dean went down.

“Dad, wait,” Sam grabbed his Dad’s arm. “Cas is, well, different. Things have changed a lot since you died. I just don’t want you to flip out when you see him.”

“What, is he black or something? Sammy, that thing doesn’t matter to me. You’re acting like I died in the 60s,” his dad chuckled a bit.

“Look,” Sam takes a deep breath. “Cas is an angel. Castiel is his full name. The ending is a part of his angel identity.”

“What is angel some way of saying he’s like slow or something?” His dad asks.

“No, like Angel with a capital A. Warrior of God on wings.”

“Angels aren’t real. I would have come across one by now,” John scoffed.

“They hadn’t walked on earth in like a millennia before a few years ago. We’ve fought demons. How hard it is to believe the opposite of those exist?” Sam proposed.

John sat and debated. He wondered if his sons had lost their minds or if some demon tricked them into taking care of it. John looked up as he heard a door close quietly and footsteps came down the hall. The look on his eldest son’s face was one of exhaustion. He no longer had the young, pretty face John had teased him about. He had the look of a man who had seen things no one should see. John felt slightly proud, thinking his son must have gotten that look by protecting people and killing monsters.

“He’s sleeping, Sam,” Dean said not acknowledging their father’s presence.

“Really?” Sam said surprised.

“What, you two are surprised some traumatized man is sleeping?” Or demon pretending to sleep he thought to himself.

“Sammy, I don’t know what to do. He hasn’t slept since Metatron,” Dean sighed, still ignoring his father.

“He’ll bounce back. He always does,” Sam reassures Dean.

“I need a drink,” Dean said.

“Dean, come on. I need your head in the game,” Sam tried, but Dean kept walking towards the door. “This isn’t what Cas would want.” Sam used the “Cas Card” that he knew would stop Dean.

“Fine. But I’m getting a beer. You want one?” Dean says towards their father.

“Oh, so now you notice me. What’s so important about this Cas that you don’t acknowledge me?” John inquired.

“So is that a no on the beer?” That is all Dean responded with.

“What has gotten into you?” His dad barked at him. Dean just walked towards the kitchen and then came back with three beers. He sighed as he sat down across from his dad, sliding the beers over to Sammy, then John.

Dean takes a long swing before asking, “What all does he know?” to Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam shrugged.

“What all could I have missed that I now know ‘nothing,’” John huffed.

“So fucking much,” Dean signed before starting his story.

(CH 3) ·:*¨༺ Are You Afraid of God? No, but I’m afraid of you ༻¨*:·

John sat there and surprisingly had no outbursts.

“Then Chuck brought you back because he is bored,” Dean finished.

“And Chuck is…”

“God, yeah,” Sam finished his dad’s sentence. They all sat there in silence before John huffed.

“Bull,” Is all he said.

“I wish,” Dean laughed.

“You guys died like ten fucking times in that story. I don’t know who you boys think you are fooling with that nonsense. Like either one of you could survive Hell,” John raged.

Dean just stood up and showed the handprint burned into his shoulder. “I’m going to go check on Cas again.”

Sam looked at his phone for the 100th time during that conversation.

“Oh, and Sammy? Just tell Eileen to come over. She might be able to help with Cas’s situation. Maybe he could sign to her or something,” Dean said walking off.

“Eileen?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, we met on a hunt a while ago,” Sam started blushing, giving away his feelings for her.

“A female hunter, huh? They sure are hard to get along with,” John laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you had plenty of experience with Mom,” Sam replied, instantly realizing what he had said. “I mean- uhm,”

“What is that supposed to mean? Your mother had no idea,” John paused. “Wait. How did I not notice before? The necklace she wore, her parents always on deer hunts,” John started going through his relationship with Mary. “How did you know?”

That was the question Sam dreaded hearing. How does he explain that Mary hates John for bringing her kids into this world? How does he explain that she’s off, hunting monsters?

“Sam. I asked you a question.” Sam looked like he was about to flee. “I know you are keeping something from me. Not a very good liar anymore, I see,” John whispered under his breath.

“Hold on, let me make a phone call,” Sam jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

“Pick up, Pick up, Pick up,” John could hear Sam saying as he snuck close to the kitchen.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” John knew that voice. That voice was always in his head.

“Something big happened,” Sam responded.

“I heard from Jack. I know Cas is back,” John could hear Mary smile through the phone. “He and Dean talk yet?” John wants to know what Mary could be implying what John thinks she’s implying. That Cas must be some queer who’s been messing with Dean’s head.

“Uh, no not yet. There have been some complications, but that’s not what I called about. Gosh, how do I say this?” Sam asks.

“Usually using words,” Mary jokes, sounding worried.

“Dad’s back.”

“Oh.” John thought his wife might be more excited to hear he was back. “Do you know why? Did you check to make sure it was him? Jack wouldn’t do that would he?” John was getting worried. Mary sounded upset that he was alive.

“Uh, no, Mom. Chuck brought him back. We had Jack check him out. He’s at the least human but we’ve been talking for a while and I know it’s Dad,” Sam explained.

“Should I come back?”

“After your hunt is finished. Don’t leave Garth hanging.” Mary was hunting? John was starting to almost panic. Who is this Garth guy? Did Mary replace him?

“He sure is an oddball huh? Don’t know how his wife puts up with it,” Mary laughs.

“Yeah, Give him a hug for me. It will make his day.”

“I’ll be back to the bunker soon. Bye, Sam,”

“Bye, Mom.”

John quickly rushed back to where he was sitting. Mary was alive. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hear anything about her from Sam. He got up as Sam came out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To talk to Dean,” John grumbled.

“Look, I don’t think you’re ready to meet Cas. He definitely isn’t ready to meet anyone new,” Sam tried to explain but his father wasn’t listening. John just stomped down the hallway until he came across a door that had the words “DEAN’S ROOM” scribbled on in crayons with different stickers around the letters.

John didn’t bother to knock, he just opened the door to see Dean cradling a man with wings, singing to him. Dean was in a whole other world, not noticing his father standing in the doorway. John didn’t know what made him angrier, seeing his son holding a monster or a man.

“DEAN!” John boomed causing the angel to jump up and curl into the corner of the room, covering himself with his wings.

“Shit. Didn’t we tell you he’s got something wrong with him? Why would you yell at him?” Dean got up into his father’s face. “Why didn’t you just fucking listen to me?” Dean pushed his father out of the room, following him out and closing the door behind him. Dean stormed away shaking with anger. He had just gotten Cas to finally calm down enough for Dean to be with him.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” John yelled after Dean. Dean turned around, gun touching his father’s head.

“If you can’t quiet down, I will pull the trigger,” Dean threatened, clicking the safety off.

“You aren’t man enough to do that,” John said in a low tone.

“Then why are you whispering?” Dean said clicking the safety back onto his gun and putting it into the hem of his jeans. He sighed before turning back around to speak to his stunned father. “Look there is a shit tone of rooms you can stay in. If you plan on being loud, it can’t be in this hallway. I can’t risk it with Cas. Just don’t pick one that has a name on it. Jack will be upset.”

“What about Mary’s room?” John huffed. Dean froze.

“You saw that?” Dean itched his head. “I wouldn’t honestly. Jack is a weird kid and I don’t know how he will feel about you breaking “the room rules” as he calls it. Where is Jack anyway?” Dean glares down at his father. “You didn’t say any bullshit to him did you?”

“Why would you think that? Sam is the one who kicked him out. Said something about you being a drunk,” John crossed his arms across his chest. Dean took a deep breath before closing his eyes and mumbling something.

“I’m glad you’re okay!” The young boy appeared out of thin air and gave Dean a big hug.

“Yeah, Jack. It’s getting late and my dad needs a room to sleep in. Will you pick a room and make him a sign?” Jack jumped up and down before running over and hugging John who couldn’t look more terrified.

“I’m glad you are good like Mary! With some of the things Dad said, I thought you would be like my father,” Jack says before letting go and running down the hall to get art supplies.

“You let a demon near Mary?” His dad growled.

“Jack’s not a demon. He’s a Nephilim. Half angel half human.” Dean tried to explain.

“Oh, so that makes it better? You are playing house with a couple of monsters.”

“Things have changed a lot since you left,” Dean said

“So you keep saying.”

“If you have a problem with it, you can leave okay? I’m dealing with too much right now to deal with your shit,” Dean sighed before walking towards the kitchen to grab another beer.

“You got anything stronger than this shit beer?” John huffed after looking into the fridge. A look of shame appeared on Dean’s face for a split second that the only person who would have been able to catch it would have been Cas.

“Ah, no. I wish. You will have to go to the bar about 20 minutes away. Closest one there is. Tell Anthony you want the Winchester special. He will give you something strong,” Dean chuckled slightly to himself.

John and Dean sat in silence drinking their beers, anger radiating off of both of them. Finally, Dean gets up saying he’s going to bed.

“With that monster in your room?” John scoffs.

“Yep.”

“You got nothing more to say for yourself?”

“Nope.” Dean walked out of the kitchen, into his room, and locked the door behind him. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hey, Cas,” the angel repeated. Dean smiled down at the man he loved.

“I’m going to bed. You need anything?” The angel shook his head. Dean was glad his dad’s outburst didn’t revert any of the progress he had made. “Do you want a pillow or, fuck it, you can climb into bed with me and sleep.”

“No sleep,” Castiel croaked out, his voice scratchy. “Watch.”

Dean smiled remembering the times he told Cas to stop doing that and now here he is, happy that he is doing it. “Night, Cas. I love you,” Dean whispered into the darkness.

(CH 4) ·:*¨༺ Be Nice to Me ༻¨*:·

Mary arrives at the bunker in the early morning. She drove all night, as soon as she finished the hunt, to get home. She wasn’t surprised to see Dean working on his car and Sam leaving for a run.

“Hey, Mom.” Dean smiled getting out from under the car. “Did Sammy tell you the news?” Mary just nodded before going in to hug her son.

“You might want to go for a drive,” She whispered. “I doubt this will be pretty.”

“I can’t. It’s not safe for Cas,” Dean explains. Mary nods understanding. “He’s messed up, mom. I know it’s only been a day out of the empty, but he’s never been like this. Not even when he took on Sam’s trauma from the Cage. I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay. Be there for him. He will get better. Good things do happen,” Mary smiles. “Ready for the shit show?”

They walked into the bunker finding John in the kitchen. John gasped and stood up to hug Mary, who slapped him across the face.

“John Winchester. I did not sacrifice my life for you to take our children onto the road, teach them about the horrors of the hunter’s world, and abuse them. You were a great father. What the hell happened?” Mary yelled. John stood there stunned.

“Mary, I did the best I could. I was a wreck after you died,” John tried to explain.

“Yeah. Well now, so are your children. Both have gone to hell, Sam lost his soul at one point, Dean became a demon, and now I hear you are upset about the angel who just got back from the Empty, comply traumatized. What do you have to say for yourself?” Mary demanded.

“Well that ‘angel’ over there is turning Dean into a queer,” John huffed as if that was some sort of defense. Mary stopped and turned to Dean.

“You guys finally got together?” She gasped. Dean stood there pale. He didn’t tell anyone about Cas’s confession or his reciprocation of those feelings.

“I-I- Uh, No. What do you mean finally?” Dean sputters.

“Oh,” Mary says disappointed. “I thought-” She turned back over to John.

“Those boys aren’t even together. What makes you say they are queer?” Mary asked John, disgust pointed towards him.

“I saw Dean holding him,” John is turning red, embarrassed to be scolded by Mary.

“He just came back to life! He’s been dead for a year! Can’t Dean miss someone? Can’t Dean comfort an upset friend without you getting your panties in a twist?” Mary yelled. “Apologize to Dean right now.”

“Mary-”

“Now.”

“Dean, I’m sorry for being rude to your friend. Sam told me he was like a recently found POW and I proceeded to yell at him. I apologize.”

Dean stood there in utter shock. He had never, ever seen John apologize for anything. He’d never seen anyone speak to him like that. Dean slowly nodded before leaving to go check on Cas.

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said stepping into their room.

“Hey, Cas,” the angel repeated back.

“You know, my name is Dean. Your name is Cas,” Dean let out a small laugh.

“Dean,” the angel smiled. Dean’s heart fluttered hearing the familiar voice. Castiel walked over to Dean, grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards the bed. “Sit.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Dean joked as he sat down on top of the bed. Castiel sat at Dean's feet and then laid down. “You okay Cas?”

“Dean. Watch. Cas. Sleep,” He said in his broken English. Dean smiled.

“Okay, Cas. I’ll watch over you.”

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

“What the hell was that all about?” John asked after Dean disappeared behind his door.

“Look, John,” Mary sighs. “Everyone knows Dean and Cas are close. Everyone knows they have feelings for each other. Everyone except them. It was hard for me at first too. I mean, Castiel is an angel. Hard for me to adjust to the fact that Sam and Dean keep a few monsters alive because it benefits them in the long run, but the world is different now. AND. Cas makes Dean happier than I’ve ever seen him since I’ve been back.”

“Dean’s never been a fag before. Why is he one now? Ever think that the angel is playing tricks on Dean’s brain?” John argued.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, John. I’ve seen Cas do things for Dean that I don’t think you would even do for me. How Dean hasn’t realized they have practically been in a committed relationship for a little less than a decade? I don’t know. But what I do know is that they are good for each other and as a mother, that's all I care about. It should have been what you cared about too.” Mary turns to leave the kitchen and go to her room.

“Mary? Do you still love me?” John asks quietly.

“I don't know John. You have done a lot of things I don’t know if I will be able to forgive.”

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

“Winchester Special,” John says to the bartender.

“Dean, I already told you. You’re cut off-” Anthony turns around. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize other people ordered that.”

“My son told me about it,” John frowns. Anthony turns around and mixes the bar's strongest whiskeys together.

“So, what’s on your mind?” John shakes his head. “Nope. Part of the Winchester Special is you got to talk.”

“And he does that?” John laughs.

“Every time. Some people just need someone to talk to, and a strong drink,” Anthony winks.

“Guess I don’t know my son at all. Never in a million years would I have thought he would spill his guts after one drink.”

“Is Dean…?” Anthony pauses, not sure if it is a good idea to pry into Dean’s mysterious father. “Are you Dean’s dad?”

“The one and only,” John huffs taking another swig.

“You know yesterday, he mentioned you for the first time. I didn’t even know you were active in his life,” Anthony mumbles that last part.

“I-I’m really not,” John says. “Saw him for the first time in over 10 years, yesterday. Looks like an entirely different person.”

“Yeah well, war can do that to you. Did you meet Cas? I heard he just got back from a POW camp,” Anthony asks. John quickly caught onto Dean’s cover story. Maybe Dean was smarter than he thought.

“Uh, Kinda. Got in trouble with the wife for not being kind enough. She yelled at me for being prejudiced,” John huffed again. “Back when I was in the military, we didn’t let sissies like him in. Now apparently he and my boy are together or some shit,” John shoots the last of his drink down and Anthony fills the cup back up.

“Yeah, I kinda always assumed. The way Dean talks about him. It’s just very telling. I’m glad he’s back though. Dean hasn’t been here at all today.”

“He here often?”

“Often enough to get a special,” Anthony replies. John thinks about that for a moment. After realizing that the bartender was proud of Dean for not being there just for the day, a thought popped into his head.

“He here every day?” the bartender nods.

“For almost a year. The anniversary of Cas, uh, going missing I guess, is coming up. I thought he had died by the way Dean spoke about him sacrificing his life for him, but I guess Dean just assumed he died.”

“Sacrificing his life?” John asked.

“Oh, if Dean was drunk enough he would talk about the moment it happened. It never made much sense, but he would always end up pissed about the event. I’d usually have to call his brother after that.” John nodded.

“What did he say happened?” John asked. Maybe the bartender thought it was just nonsense, but maybe it was a supernatural event John could decode.

“Oh, something about Death around the corner. Sometimes it was a woman around the corner, depending on the day. Then Cas pushed Dean out of the way, saving him. He says everything went black after that, and there wasn’t a body to bury. I kinda always assumed it was a bomb, but I don’t know.”

“Huh,” John said.

“Look, I wouldn’t bring it up to Dean. He always gets worked up about it and with him not going home drunk right now, I don’t want you to push him over. I know Sam won’t buy him any more liquor because I’ve heard Dean complain about it.” Anthony walks away after that, mid-speech to go help another customer.

John leaves his cash on the counter and heads back to the bunker with a lot on his mind.

(CH 5) ·:*¨༺ Alcoholics don’t get far unless they drink and drive ༻¨*:·

John woke up with a headache. He checked the clock and it was later than he would ever let himself sleep. He stretched to get out of bed, hearing voices in the kitchen.

Cas had been following Dean around since he got up. He no longer had his wings out, making him able to wear his trenchcoat again. He hadn’t said anything all morning, even though Dean was trying to coax words out of him. Mainly Cas just rolled his eyes, but there was this look in Dean’s eyes that just begged him to say something. Cas heard footsteps enter the kitchen.

“Dean,” he says as the rest of the members at the table, Jack, Sam, Mary, Eileen, and Dean, all cheered. “Dean,” Cas repeated jutting his chin towards the door. The table turned and silence fell into the room.

“Don’t stop celebrating on my account,” John mumbled.

“John! John! Castiel just spoke! In front of all of us!” Jack was vibrating with excitement. “He’s getting better!” John just nodded and went over to the coffee machine.

“No,” Cas said. John turned around, looking offended.

“No what, Cas?” Dean asked softly.

“No. Dean’s.”

“What the coffee?” Dean clarified. He received a nod from the angel. “He can have some coffee. It’s okay, Cas.” Dean could tell Castiel said something, but couldn’t understand.

“Castiel!” Jack gasped. Everyone’s attention went to Jack.

“What? What did he say?” Dean asked a bit too excitedly.

“Well, Enochian isn’t a perfect language and it’s hard to translate,” Jack responded. “But he pretty much said I don’t want the scum of the earth taking the gifts it serves.” Jack is met with more blank stares. “It’s an insult to your father,” Jack said quietly sinking into his chair.

“Ohhh,” the whole table understood.

“What’s his problem with me?” John asked. Sam and Dean made eye contact and tried to change the subject.

“So, Cas can speak Enochian. Is he just struggling with English, you think?” Sam asked.

“Hey, I asked a question,” John slammed his hand on the table. Castiel jumped up and pinned John against the wall.

“Cas, get off of him,” Dean says with no urgency. Castiel just growled.

“What is he some sort of guard dog?” John poked.

“Cas, come on now. Dad’s trying his best. Let him down,” Dean tried again.

“No.”

“Why, Cas?” Dean asked annoyed, standing up to move the angel.

“Protect.” John burst out laughing at the angel’s response.

“Wow, you boys have gone soft. Need a monster to protect you?” John snapped.

Dean just sighed. “Hey Cas? Look at Eileen,” Dean needed to get Cas’s attention somewhere else. Dean spelled “sign 4 me” to Eileen. She agreed with a nod. “Watch her hands Cas. John is not a danger. You can let him go. It is okay.”

Cas watched intensely as Eileen signed what Dean had just said. Cas nodded and let go of John before wandering off. Dean signed thank you, sighed heavily, and then grabbed his mug.

“I’ll go follow him. Make sure he’s not destroying another room.”

“Hey, Dean. What is your guard dog's problem with me?” John stood in front of Dean, blocking the doorway.

“Look, you want to call him a dog fine. I’ll use dog terms. Cas is territorial and overly protective. Better?” Dean says taking another sip of his coffee. His dad moves out of the way.

“I can never get a straight answer from that kid anymore,” John huffed.

“Like father like son,” Sam signed to Eileen, who laughed.

“What? What did you say?” John asked sounding almost panicked.

“Don’t worry about it, John. They have been doing that all morning,” Mary rolls her eyes before getting up to rinse her mug out. “No one knows what they are saying.”

“I do,” Jack says causing Sam to get a bright pink blush across his face and Eileen to burst out into Laugher.

“What did they say?” John asks with a raised eyebrow.

“They said like father like son,” Jack signed as he spoke.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John turns to Sam.

“Like you don’t remember that 90% of our arguments were because you wouldn’t give straight answers because everything was on a need-to-know basis,” Sam shrugs his shoulders.

“Seems like Dean’s got a few things in common with me then. Talked to some guy named Anthony last night,” John lead.

“Dad, Dean says a lot of stuff when he’s drunk. Don’t believe everything Ant says about him,” Sam sighs.

“Wait, I thought you said when Dean gets drunk he is more likely to tell the truth?” Jack said confused.

“Hey, Jack buddy. This is an adult conversation. Let’s go find Dean and your Dad,” Mary says calmly leading Jack out of the kitchen. Eileen followed them out, leaving just Sam and John in the kitchen.

“Why did you tell me the same cover story that Dean told Anthony?” John asked.

“I didn’t know what to say to describe what happened to him. The Empty is a hard thing to comprehend and we don’t know much about it,” Sam explained.

“Well, try. I’m tired of being left out of things.” Sam scoffs again at his father.

“Funny how things change,” Sam frowns. “Look the Empty is where angels go when they die. From how it has left Cas, clearly, it’s no heaven.”

“Is it darkness?” John asked quietly.

“What?” Sam replied.

“Is it black? So black you can’t see?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you know that?” Sam asked.

“That Anthony is a chatterbox. Careful what secrets you tell him.” With that, John stood up and left the kitchen.

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

When John left the kitchen, everyone was in the library. He headed in that direction. I need Dean alone, without the angel. Dean was reading a book out loud, while Castiel sat next to him and listened. John could tell by the cover it was the Wizard of Oz.

“Do you remember meeting Dorthy? Charlie had a thing for her,” Dean smiled fondly at the memory.

“Who’s Charlie?” Jack asked.

“Oh Jack, you would have loved her. She was like a little sister to me. She had fiery red hair and superhuman hacking skills,” Dean explained as if he were talking about a character from a story. “She loved to play pretend and one time made me and Sam play with her. She was a queen and we were knights.”

“Saved Dean,” Castiel added on.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said leaning his head up against the angel. “She did save me.” Dean picked the book back up and continued reading the story to Cas and Jack. It was such a domestic scene that John was observing. It made him angry that Dean was acting like this. John didn’t get to have this with his family, why should they? It wasn’t the life he had planned for Dean. Sam? Maybe, but he never would have imagined Dean to settle down.

John took another step forward and Dean sat straight up, no longer laying on the angel, whose eyes were closed.

“Dean. Lay.” Cas said without opening his eyes. Dean stared at his father before slowly laying back down on Castiel. John scoffed and walked away.

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

John decided that the best way to get information out of Dean would be to get him drunk. He needed to hear it out of Dean’s mouth that he was in love with the angel and the angel wasn’t just forcing him with his powers. John left and drove almost an hour away from the bunker to a store.

He bought his favorite whiskey. When checking out the cashier spoke to him.

“Huh. Are you hanging out with Dean Mercury? He’s the only person who ever buys this stuff,” the cashier said.

“Uh yeah. He’s my son,” John replied.

“I can see the resemblance. How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him in some time.”

“He’s doing well,” is all John says before snagging the whiskey from the cashier's hands as soon as he takes the cash.

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

It was around 8 o'clock by the time John got home. Dean was still on the couch in the library reading, but the angel nor the kid was in sight.

“Don’t let Sammy see that. He will make you take it back,” Dean huffed after seeing the bottle.

“You wana drink?” John asks. Dean jumps up off the couch.

“Let's go to the Dean cave,” Dean smirks. Finally, something he and his dad can’t argue on. Alcohol. Dean will put an old western on and they can just sit and be together.

John followed behind Dean and closed the door behind him. Dean pulled a poster off the wall revealing alcohol and glasses. “Don’t tell Sam or I will shoot you,” Dean says. He set the glasses on the coffee table and started searching for the remote.

“Must be nice to not have that angel breathing down your neck for a few minutes huh?” John tried to break this case open as fast as he could.

“Nah. I don’t mind Cas being like that. I gave up years ago teaching him personal space. Even before the Empty, he was a weird guy.” John watched Dean smile to himself talking about the angel. “Aha! Found it!” Dean says finding the remote in the couch cushions. John starts pouring the whiskey into the glasses.

“Woah, trying to get me drunk here old man?” Dean teased taking the nearly full glass and shooting it back like it was nothing. “Filler back up while I find a good movie.” Dean settled on the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly after scrolling through his recently watched which was full of mainly Cowboy movies with the occasional nature documentary (Thanks Cas).

Not halfway through the movie, Dean had drunk enough to get his lips to unzip. “You know, every time I see one of those bars that have them lady’s who you know are hookers, it makes me think of Cas.”

“Is that so?” John said pouring himself another drink as well as refilling Dean’s.

“Yeah. I took him to this brothel one time. Hardest I had laughed in years. He was so awkward and uncomfortable it was hilarious,” Dean laughed.

“What he not like women or something?” John pried.

“Oh, I don’t know. Every time he’s shown any interest, it has been more out of curiosity. That’s at least how he explained hooking up with April.” Dean’s responses were rolling out of his mouth.

“The angel hooked up with someone? Isn’t that a sin?” John asked trying to get more information.

“Eh. He says the Bibles are full of inaccuracies. I remember him showing up in churches and criticizing priests who were condemning gay people to hell. Besides, April was out to kill him anyway.”

“Do you think he might be a queer?” John asks. Dean stiffens up and takes another sip of his drink, eyes on the TV screen.

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “I’d really rather not talk about this.” Dean gulps out of his glass.

“Sorry, just trying to figure the guy out,” John said trying to get Dean to open back up.

“Just ask me other things about him. Like, he won’t admit that he can’t taste my cooking, but he will always eat it and say it’s delicious. He is fascinated with nature even though he literally saw it get created. That’s what all those docs were. I let him pick movies sometimes. I know he doesn’t necessarily like the Westerns, but he will always watch them with me if I ask.” Dean smiles to himself. A goofy, lovesick smile. Anyone, even skeptical John, could see that Dean was in love with Cas.

John leans back and stops filling Dean’s glass, suddenly feeling very guilty about prying into Dean and Cas’s lives. The angel would watch and eat things he knew Dean liked, just to make Dean happy. John remembered doing things like that for Mary.

“What? You done drinking? We still got a quarter of the bottle left. Pass it over,” Dean said reaching over to grab the bottle. John hesitated thinking about what information he wanted, but also what the bartender said about Dean getting really upset. By the time John decided it was time to cut Dean off, Dean had grabbed the bottle and taken a large swig out of it.

“Dean, you’re slurring your words. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” John started, feeling a weird pang of Deja Vu.

“With the week we’ve been having? I’m surprised Sammy’s not dragging us both home from the bar. Well, Ant cut me off, but you know what I mean,” Dean responds before taking another swig.

“Dean,” John said starting to see the effect he had on his son.

“You know how we were talking about Cas? Did you know he came back to life the same fucking day you did?” Dean slurred. “I mean come on. It’s like Chuck doesn’t want us together. Well, I mean I know he doesn’t, but still. Can’t he just butt out?”

John stayed quiet. He felt like Dean might be reaching the spot Anthony talked about.

“I mean, he never said anything. Never. Not until Billy, I’m sorry Death, was banging on the door. You know I still haven’t stepped foot in that damn room? I can’t even walk past it without hearing his stupid fucking speech about being happy, just knowing me. ME. He killed himself for me. After we agreed not to do any more kamikaze shit,” Dean was now yelling at his father. “He made some stupid deal with the Empty and now he’s all kinds of fucked up. And you’re here, setting everyone on edge. I’m surprised Cas didn’t kill you. He hates you more than I do.” Dean laughed.

John paused the movie. The reality of the situation came crashing down on top of him. John had gotten his son, who he knew was an alcoholic, drunk to get information out of him. What kind of a father was he? Dean still hadn’t stopped talking.

“I mean, you sent me away to a boy’s home because I stole food because you didn’t leave us with enough money while you were playing house with Adam. You never left us with enough money. The shit I did to be able to just feed Sammy.” Dean’s eyes were red.

“I fucking hate you. You know that? God, it took me so long to realize that. And I love you. That’s why you are here. With me and Sammy. You know I almost pulled the trigger that day? God, I was so pissed off at you and Chuck and the Empty and it would have been so easy. You wanna know why I didn’t shoot you? It wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll tell you that. It’s because I didn’t want the gunshot to scare Cas. How fucked up is that?” Dean just kept rambling.

John didn’t know what to do. He made a mistake. He’s made too many mistakes. He had to fix this. “Hey Jack, angel kiddo, whatever I should call you. Will you come to the ‘Dean cave’? I’ve really messed up.” Within seconds, Jack was in the room. He looked over at the empty whiskey bottle in Dean’s hand.

“Jack, buddy what are you doing up? You know Cas wants you in bed before ten.” Jack walked over and tapped Dean’s forehead, putting him to sleep.

“What did you just do?” John asked panicked.

“He’s just sleeping. Where did he get this? Sam got rid of all the big bottles,” Jack observed.

“I didn’t realize he was this bad,” Is all John said. John walked over and scooped Dean up into his arms like he did when Dean fell asleep watching cartoons in the old motels. John took Dean to his room and was slightly surprised to find the angel asleep on one side of the bed. John didn’t even mention it as he placed Dean down next to Cas watching as they moved closer to each other like magnets. Castiel grabbed Dean pulling their bodies together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

John left the room, closing the door behind him. He went back and cleaned up the mess in the ‘Dean cave’ and turned off the TV. For the first time since Mary died, he cried.

(CH 6) ·:*¨༺ I love the Idea of Places I’ll Never go ༻¨*:·

Dean woke up with a pounding headache. He didn’t even remember getting to bed last night, but he must have made some sort of advance on Cas since his arms were wrapped around Dean.

“Morning, Cas,” Dean couldn't help but grin.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. Dean’s heart quickened. It was like old times. “You’re sick.” Cas moved his hand up to Dean’s forehead and removed the powerful hangover he had. “Better?”

“Yeah, better. Thanks, Cas,” Dean’s grin got wider. Cas and him sat in the comfortable silence they always had just looking at each other.

A knock at their door sent Cas back into a panicked state, pulling his wings back out.

“Hey, Dean? You decent?” Sam calls into the door.

“Uh, Yeah. Hold on.” Dean ran a hand over his face before getting out of bed to open the door. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“Have you seen Dad? He’s not in his room, kitchen, library, or weaponry,” Sam explained.

“Uh, check the ‘Dean Cave.’ We watched a movie there last night. Let me calm Cas back down, then I will head out,” Dean responded.

Sam could smell the alcohol on Dean’s breath, but he didn’t seem hungover, so Sam decided not to bring it up. He walked down the hall towards the ‘Dean Cave’ and opened the door. His dad wasn’t there but there was a note taped to the couch.

Dear Boys,

I’m sorry for the way your life has turned out. I had some sort of realization last night and I don’t think I will be able to face you two again. Dean, I’m glad Cas makes you happy even if he’s a man. Sam, marry that Eileen girl. You’ve got a good thing going with her. You’re raising that kid well. He probably knows what I did and probably will tell you guys because somehow the Devil’s son is more honest than any of us Winchesters will ever be.

Tell Mary I will always love her.

J.W.

“Oh, crap,” Sam says after reading. Sam runs back down the hallway to Dean’s room who is exiting with Cas who has his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench coat, pulling it closer. “Dean. What the hell did you and Dad talk about last night?”

Dean tried to remember through the whiskey’s haze. Cas just put two fingers to Dean’s head again, clearing his foggy memory.

“Shit,” Dean whispered.

“What?” Sam tried not to let his frustration through for fear of scaring Cas.

“Look, you’re going to be pissed. Just a heads up,” Dean leads with. Sam just nods his head. “We shared a bottle of that cheap whiskey Dad always drank growing up. He, he got me talking. You know how I am. I wouldn’t shut up. God dammit. Jack saw some of it. I’m not sure how much he saw.”

“Apparently enough to make Dad leave,” Sam says shoving the note towards Dean. Dean’s eyes flicker back through the letter.

“Wait, this said Dad did something. I don’t remember him doing anything. I was the one who wouldn’t shut up.”

Jack’s bedroom door creaked open. “I know what he did. He was radiating guilt when I walked in,” Jack whispered.

“Jack. No.” Cas said.

“What do you mean no, Cas? Why can’t we know what happened?” Dean huffed. Cas just shook his head. Jack now looked back in forth between the two brothers and his father.

“They will be unhappy,” Cas finally croaked out a full sentence.

“What, so you know what happened too?” Dean asked. Cas nodded his head.

“Cas we are already unhappy. What’s the worst our Dad could have done that he hasn’t done before?” Sam asked looking over to Jack for the answer. Jack took a deep breath.

“He got Dean drunk to test to see if Cas was controlling his mind and ended up getting a rant from Dean about how much he hates his Dad, saying the only reason he didn’t shoot him was because of Cas being skittish,” Jack said as fast as he could.

“He what?” Sam said sounding angry while Dean just laughed.

“Ah, I could have told y’all that,” Dean said. “Wasn’t the first time he did that shit. Not sure why this time me threatening him drunk made him apologize. Made him leave? Yeah, that happened almost every time. He’s never apologized before. That’s crazy,” Dean chuckled again.

“He’s done that before?” Sam asked quietly.

“Ah, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy. Hardly the worst thing he did to us,” Dean smiled.

“You’re not mad? How can you not be mad?” Sam could feel his anger bubbling up.

“Cuz I told him the truth he didn’t want to hear. For some reason this time he actually believed it. Normally he would stomp out saying I was lying to make him feel like a horrible father. Maybe he just realized he was one.” Dean shrugged and walked away going to go get coffee. Cas followed behind quietly.

“Morning, Eileen. Morning, Mom.”

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Mary smiled.

“Yeah, well Dad’s a dumbass who got his feelings hurt like a little kid,” Dean laughed.

“Where is John?” Eileen signed and spoke.

“He left,” Sam said walking into the kitchen.

The bunker lights started flickering. Cas brought his wings out and produced an Angel Blade.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“This was not how it was supposed to go!” Chuck yelled appearing in the middle of the kitchen. He snapped and brought a drunken John into the kitchen. “He was supposed to break up you two idiots. Kill Cas or something. Maybe even kill one of you. Come on! This was not the John Winchester who raised you two!”

“Yeah, well this John has Mary,” Dean shrugged. “Dad was different when Mary was alive.” He took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly.

“You should be scared of him!” Chuck yelled.

“Yeah, no offense Chucky Cheese, but you sent me to hell if I remember correctly. You had me bear the Mark of Cain, don’t ask,” Dean said turning to his Dad, who hadn’t heard that part of the story. “You had me help raise the kid of the Devil, who killed Cas. Then almost had me kill him. That’s not even covering everything, Chuck. My dad is nothing compared to defeating a literal God.”

Jack steps foot into the kitchen. “Hey, you are not supposed to be here,” Jack observed. “Should I call Aunty Amara?”

“Let’s leave Amara out of this, kid. This doesn’t concern her,” Chuck said.

“Yeah, she won’t be mad you are hurting Dean Winchester. Her savior. The man who helped her reunite with her crappy brother. The man who broke her out of the cage she was in,” Sam scoffed.

“You know what?” Chuck snapped, their Dad becoming sober. “Just finish this out.” Chuck disappeared after that.

“What’s going on?” John asks getting up off the floor.

“You’re leaving?” Jack asked looking at the note that was left on the table.

“Come on Dad, you’re going to make the kid cry if you leave,” Dean branches out.

“I just don’t know what to say,” John sighed quietly.

“Then don’t say anything. Grab a gun and go shoot something. We got a range down here and you are probably rusty after 10 years.” Dean said leaving the kitchen with Cas following behind him. “Cas if you are coming with, you will have to tuck those wings in. Let’s not break them again.”

“Bullets do not hurt me, Dean,” Cas scoffed.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean smiled and slipped his hand into Cas’s.

“I wouldn't follow them,” Sam said at the same time Mary did.

“Why not?” John said panicked.

“I’ve been trying to get them to get rid of that damn tension for over 10 years now. I would not want to be there if it’s starting to break. If you understand?” Sam explains getting a slow nod from John who is pale.

“You know I don’t like the idea of a monster and a human together,” John huffed.

“Yeah well, you would if you’ve been the third wheel to their stares that last all a bit too long,” Sam laughed.

“I’m not sure I understand?” Jack says.

“You haven’t had ‘the talk’ with the boy yet? What is he 20?” John asks.

“I’m four. What talk?” Jack says.

“He’s four?” John asks.

“Yeah, he grew rapidly. Honestly, I’m not sure if he knows or not,” Sam explains.

“Know what? Stop talking like I’m not here!” Jack pouts.

“Jack, you know how Dean tried to get Cas to hook up with that waitress?” Sam asks, clearly uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Dean had sex with a lot of waitresses.” Mary choked her coffee hearing that response.

“Yeah okay,” Sam says. He takes another breath in preparing himself. “Dean and Cas are probably going to start doing that soon.”

“They haven’t already?” Jack asks getting a laugh out of Sam.

“Nope not yet.”

“But they sleep in the same room,” Jack observed. Mary got up and left, done with the awkwardness in the room. John would have followed if he wasn’t frozen in place.

“Yeah, Jack. Dean and Cas are a little confusing.” Sam explains.

“So are they not married?” Jack asks confused. John looks like he wants to flee and wishes he could be like Eileen, who has her nose in a book ignoring everything.

“What gave you the impression they were married?” Sam asked.

“Cas wears a wedding band. So does Dean.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Well the band Dean wears is technically a wedding band, but he wears it on his right. It was our Dad’s before he died. And, uh, you remember how Clair is kinda your sister?”

“Yeah, because of Castiel’s vessel, Jimmy.”

“He is possessing some guy?!” John roars.

“Dad, chill. Jimmy hasn’t been in the vessel since I was in the cage.” Sam brings his attention back to Jack. ��Well, Jimmy was married. I guess Cas never took it off. He tries to take care of the vessel to honor Jimmy.”

“Oh. Well, when will they get married?” Jack’s naivety can be frustrating at some points, even if it can be endearing.

“I’m not sure, Jack. Those things take time.” Sam smiles down at the Nephilim.

(CH 7) ·:*¨༺ I am Happy to be bonding in the Kitchen with my Friends ༻¨*:·

Cas is getting better every day. It’s been about a month since he was brought back and he is significantly better than the day he came back. He still has moments where he won’t speak and becomes skittish, but they are less frequent.

Dean gets better as Cas gets better. They have been much more affectionate than they have ever been. John is still clearly uncomfortable and sometimes scoffs and leaves the room when they show too much affection, but he tries to keep it to himself since every time he says something Mary threatens him.

John starts to get to know his sons for the first time. He always knew that Sam was smart, but he also had a knack for witchcraft (another thing both John, Mary, and Dean all had to get used to). Dean, still strong with almost perfect aim, is incredibly intelligent. He knows about classic literature and can read multiple languages.

John tries to get to know Castiel, but Castiel seems to be less forgiving than Sam and Dean. If Dean is in the room, he will say very few words to John, all of them generally polite. If it is just John and Cas, he threatens John with one wrong move and he will smite him without hesitation.

Mary and John are starting to bond once more, but may never love each other the same way they did. John is trying to adjust to the idea of Hunter Mary and not Housewife Mary. He finds comfort in the fact that it also took Dean quite a long time to adjust.

John is slowly adjusting to the new world he is in. New tools, weapons, and gadgets are easier to accept than the new allies the brothers have. Witches, demons, Vampires, Werewolves, etc. Apparently, the hunter Mary was hunting with was a Werewolf, who was hunting down other Werewolves who were hurting people.

Even with all these changes, John is happy to be home with his boys.

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solaestial · 7 days ago

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Flashback, Francesca ♫ ☁

#end roll #chris (end roll)#russell seager #my art #HI MORE HITORIE SONGS FOR THEM I LOVE HITORIE #this one hit haha 27 hours haha #I THOUGHT I WAS DOING BETTER WITH THAT FINALLY SCREAMS WHY #took almost as long as the sweet escape pic which had a whole cityscape man #and this was mostly just over adding more details last minute and nitpicking everything extra hard #anyway i loveee how the lyrics with the song vibe with them #i should add a tag for this little playlist art series later #ALSO PRETEND THIS CAME AFTER THE YOWAMUSHI MONT BLANC PICS SOB

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the-holy-ghosted · 1 year ago

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he probably broke up a few fights between fitz and crozier right? probably? that's the only excuse i have for this

#the heron giveth #the terror #john bridgens #HI EVERY BODY *SCREAMS*#why does everything i draw come out so dark. oh well whatever #nobody from my little terror era was around when i was drawing hope magnusarchives drenched in blood and so nobody knows about #my weird fixation. on men. drenched in blood #and for the fact that i love bridgens so much i thought god. you know what would make him even better? blood #obviously.#so there you go i have had this rattling around in my brain for days and it finally released itself from my brain #i had so much to do today and im starting my errands so late because i had to get this out of my system so take it bc i have to LEAVE #to tell you the truth i can see myself getting better as an artist the more i draw these characters #theyre unlocking skills im proud of how this came out despite the sheer lust you can tell i was experiencing while making it #ANYWAYS . youre welcome mutuals

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aajjks · 9 months ago

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tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

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ode2rin · 8 months ago

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new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior.

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself.

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any.

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that.

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!”

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting.

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.”

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind.

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit.

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for.

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you.

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim.

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

#☁️ my ode to you #i have more drabbles like this i am fucking insane about him #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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anythingneverythingnstuffs · 18 days ago

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neighbor!reader x simon 'ghost' riley pt 6

The morning after you had shared a bottle of wine with your mysterious neighbor, Simon, you woke up to a new bottle of wine and your wine glasses, washed, from the night before on your welcome mat. You had expected the glasses, since you had forgotten them at his place after all, but not the wine.

Not that you were going to complain about that.

Wine nights with your neighbor, Simon, didn't become a regular thing. You weren't sure he had any regular things. His schedule was completely irregular, he was in and out at odd times, never following any sort of pattern.

Not that you were paying attention or anything.

You had a day off in the middle of the week, for some reason, and you decided to fill the day with baking, because why not? The weather was getting colder, the days seemed to get shorter, and you just needed something to lift your spirits.

It was just past eleven in the morning. Your Bluetooth speaker was playing absently in the background as you baked. You had already finished a few batches of cookies, making extras of the ones you knew were Simon’s favorites-

Not that you paid attention. Literally. At all.

It wasn’t until you were on your second loaf of chocolate chip bread that you finally looked up, for some reason, and there it was. The biggest spider you had ever seen in your life, right on the ceiling above your oven.

And you let out a scream.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley heard that scream.

He immediately knew it was you, and that it had come from your apartment. If his mask hadn’t already been on from when he had run his morning errands, he probably would have forgone it entirely in his haste to get to you, to the source of your cries.

However, he didn’t expect the reason for your scream to be a spider on the ceiling.

“Can’t reach it from down there?” He almost sounded amused.

You jumped when you heard his gruff voice behind you. “Simon-! How did you get in-?”

“You left the door unlocked. Again. You need to stop doing that,” he chastised you before brushing you aside to get a better look at the beast on the ceiling. “Huh. That’s what made you scream?”

“Maybe…”

“It’s just a spider, love. It won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t like spiders,” you grumbled as you watched him grab the spider with his bare hands without even having to grab a step-stool, get on his tip-toes, or anything. His muscles seemed to bulge through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing with the movement. You couldn’t help but stare, although you tried not to look like you were gawking.

Damn.

“Clearly,” he hummed. “Are you baking again?”

That brought you back to reality, at least a bit more than you were. “Oh-! Yeah, I am,” you replied. You thought about making a joke about how you weren’t baking again, you were baking still, but you decided it wasn’t funny enough of a joke to try out on your neighbor. “Was it the smell that gave it away?”

“That, and the flour on your apron,” he replied gruffly, though you could almost hear a chuckle in there somewhere.

You could feel your cheeks heat up a bit, but you couldn’t tell why. Of course you had flour on you- you were baking, after all. Why were you blushing that he pointed it out?

“What have you been baking this time?” he asked you, still holding the spider in his bare hand. His gaze had shifted to the multitude of baking racks around your kitchen and on your dining room table, mostly filled with cooling baked goods. Cookies, dessert bread, muffins-

“Oh, just a little bit of everything,” you answer absently. “Anything that looks good to you?”

Now, Ghost had a decision here. He could go with the safe choice- picking a dessert that you had made, and you would likely let him have some, if not all of it. That was almost a guarantee, in his mind.

But he could also go with the wild card choice. He could say something that looked good to him that wasn’t something that you had baked that morning. But that was the more risky option. It could go one way or another, and quickly at that.

“Are those snickerdoodles…?”

He went with the safe choice. For now.

first

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #call of duty #ghost imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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smutoperator · 1 month ago

Text

Her Sister's Boyfriend

Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader (special participation: Jang Daah)

Kinkvember Chapter 5

Main kinks: cheating, foot fetish, handcuffing, worshipping

Word count: 4473.

After a long time being very busy, Wonyoung finally would be able to spend a weekend with her sister, which she missed so much. Although she and Daah would occasionally find each other at Starship's halls, they would go on for many days without being able to see each other.

"Sister, I came a little earlier than expected. I tried to text you a few times, but I guess you're still busy at work. Either way, I'll be at your guesthouse soon, bye." Wonyoung texted as she arived at Daah's guesthouse but couldn't find her. That was until she was surprised by a shocking scene going on.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh," Daah's moans echoed through the house as her boyfriend pinned her against the glass while having sex with her. Wonyoung was definitely surprised; that was the way she found out her sister had gotten a boyfriend. But instead she just gave you a wink and walked unnoticed past Daah, who was with her eyes closed and enjoying a mind-blowing orgasm from you.

But on the next day, as Daah went to shop for some groceries, Wonyoung made her move. She went to the kitchen with her body naked from the waist down, her long legs completely exposed, as you heard some noises at the kitchen and decided to check things out.

"Honey, are you already ba... what the fuck?" You were shocked when you saw Wonyoung's lower body fully exposed. Wonyoung giggled. "Why do all you guys panick in front of a bare pussy?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you were inside my sister's own pussy when I arrived here yesterday," she said.

"I'm sorry, it's a little different when it's not my girlfriend," you say to Wonyoung. "Different?" she asks. "Why exactly? Pussies are very similar. They are wet and warm; they squirt and get stretched out by some cock that wants to cum insde them; isn't that how it works?" she says. "Although, to be honest, my pussy is a little different; my partners have said I have Korea's diamond pussy," Wonyoung brags about it.

"Diamond pussy, what do you mean?" you ask her. "Well, they say my pussy is so tempting it's much better than the others. They say it's worth more than a diamond. Why don't you have a taste and check it by yourself?" Wonyoung asks as she shoves your face against her pussy. You try to resist out of loyalty to your girlfriend, but her words were true. As soon as the amazing scent of Wonyoung's pussy invades your nostrils, any thoughts you had about Daah go out of the window.

You quickly start licking Wonyoung's folds, unable to resist the temptations of her diamond pussy. She's very vocal, telling where you need to attack, and by the wetness you can feel inside it, she's not faking it. "Yes, lick it like that, ohhhh fuck," she moans, pushing your head further against it. You lick it like crazy, amazed at how good her pussy smells.

"Oh, your tongue feels so good in my pussy," Wonyoung says. She moves her body left and right, meaning you get to enjoy every inch of her vagina. "Ahhh, ahhhh, yes," she moans. When she pushes her pussy a bit apart, reacting to the stimulation, you quickly go back and lick it. Soon, you replace your tongue with your fingers, making Wonyoung cream herself over the kitchen's floor. "I guess my sister will have to do some cleaning when she returns," she says.

"OH MY GOD, YESSSS," Wonyoung gleefully screams as she grinds her pussy in your face. Right now, it's no longer you that has control; it's her, as she just uses your face as a pleasure playground for her vagina until she gets what she craves for: her orgasm.

"Ahhh, that felt so good," Wonyoung says as her juices cover your face. "I think you deserve a gift for making me cum," she says, taking your shirt off. "Wow, you're so strong; no wonder my sister was so in love with you yesterday," she continues, paying close attention to your muscular frame.

Wonyoung reaches under your pants and confirms what she already knew: a muscular guy like you had a massive cock that was already throbbing for her. "My sister is shorter than me; I bet that big cock was hitting her cervix all the time," Wonyoung says as she reminds herself of yesterday's sex moment between you and Daah. She kisses you and touches your balls. "Hope you saved some cum for me and didn't drain it all yesterday," she says.

"That's so big and hard, oh my god, so fucking huge," Wonyoung says as she gets impressed by your cock. If there is something Wonyoung has seen countless times, it's big cocks. But it's more than just size; it's shape—the huge throbbing tip popping out of your foreskin, the erection pointing to the sky, the big balls. She caresses it and keeps praising your cock, even lying about never seeing a cock that big before to pretend she's more innocent than she is.

Wonyoung spits on your cock and jerks it off before getting on her knees to suck it. You just groan as her dick-sucking lips tightenly envelope your dick, with her moaning hard as she gets very sloppy, saliva coming out of her chin. "Fuck my face; I want to feel every inch of it in my throat," Wonyoung says, and you do it just as she asks. Well, except it's Wonyoung's face fucking your cock, because she pushes it hard against your shaft every single time.

"Shit, shit, stop; you're going to fast; I'm gonna," you say. "Cum?" Wonyoung says. "That's exactly what I want," Wonyoung says, kissing your tip and then licking your shaft from top to bottom before landing on your balls as she keeps jerking it off. "God, it feels so good, shittt,' you say as she savors your cock like an ice cream and licks your tip before shoving it in her face. She then jerks your foreskin off with your tip in her mouth. "Ohhhh shit, yeah," is all you can say.

But they say there are actions to speak louder than words, and you ejaculating all over Wonyoung's throat after her blowjob session certainly qualifies. She tastes it and swallows it all. "So salty," she says. "Good boy, I want you to fuck me now; let's go to bed," she continues.

Wonyoung carries you to the same bed you and Daah had sex. She gets herself dressed in enticing waist-high stockings, wearing all black lingerie alongside red high heels; her appearance with this outfit gets you hard shortly after, which she notices. "Good to see this cock going up all for me," she says. She cuffs your hands to the bed and sits on top of your already naked body, shoving her feet in your face for you to sniff and lick. "Doesn't it smell good, baby?" she asks. "Yes," you answer without hesitation, being true to yourself as her feet seem to have on you the same effect her pussycat did. Your imagination runs wild as you try to lick her feet, but she pulls out at the last second. "Patience, baby," she says.

Wonyoung keeps running her feet over your face, teasing you endlessly. She then crosses her legs, giving you a quick opening of her pussy before shutting it down. "How much do you want to fuck it, enough to give your girlfriend up for me?" she asks. "Yes," you answer, completely hypinotized by this goddess. You always felt Daah had been a great girlfriend, but her younger sister just seems to be on another level. A one in a thousand years level, to be more precise.

"You did great work when you were in that kitchen," Wonyoung says. "And behavior like this deserves to be rewarded, don't you think?" She continues, walking around the bed before she pushes her feet against your torse and prepares herself for her next move.

Wonyoung rips off her recently bought stockings right at her bottom area. No big deal; she has lots of money to buy plenty of them. She quickly sits on your face. It's incredible that she doesn't have the biggest ass, but she knows exactly where to sit to suffocate you to the fullest. "That's right, just like that," she says as you grab her waist and quickly eat her pussy while she grinds on your face.

"That's your reward for doing such a good job," Wonyoung says as she moans hard. You try to touch every inch of her body. "You know how special you are? Eating that diamond pussy the whole country craves for," she continues, showing her through-the-roof self-confidence.

Your face turns into Wonyoung's personal playground. You don't know how that's even possible, but her pussy rides your face as if it were actually riding your cock. "That's right, show me how excited you are for your special treat," Wonyoung says as she keeps shoving her folds in your face. She then turns around and takes her attention to your cock. As she starts jerking it off, you get an amazing view of her cute ass twerking on your face. "Ahhhh, that's so good," Wonyoung says as your tongue keeps licking her pussy.

"Good boy deserves some special treat," Wonyoung says, deepthroating your cock as if your big shaft were nothing. She takes it all the way in from the get go, drooling all over it like the needy slut she is. She rubs her hand all over it and gets quite sloppy, engulfing it like those sword eaters from a circus. You spank her ass trying to cope with the heat, making her moan as you do so. "Such a good boy, such a good boy," she keeps repeating as her cunt suffocates you to the maximum.

You move into Wonyoung's feet, tasting it and licking her toes. "Love the way you appreciate my tasy feet, especially my perfect toes," she says, keeping the work on your cock. "Oh fuck," you say. "Come on, baby, don't cum again," she orders as you kiss her feet like a gentleman while she sucks your cock like a slut.

Your mouth is now full of Wonyoung's fingers, while your fingers are all over her pussy. "You know how much I love that?" she asks, giving your cock some crazy deepthroat to show her appreciation. "Tell me how much you want me to sit on this big cock?" Wonyoung asks as she wraps your face between her feet and her ass, moaning when you tongue her pussy. You answer positively, but she can't hear it; your words are getting lost inside her cunt like everything that gets inside it; hopefully soon your cock.

"I know you're eager to get inside my diamond pussy, but first I want to tease you a little more," Wonyoung says as she runs her soles over your shaft. "Seem like you loved my toes a lot, so I think you'll love them wrapped around that big cock too," Wonyoung says as she triple teams your cock: her feet and hand jerking it off, her mouth licking your tip. "That's really good, isn't it? Aren't you very spoliled?" Wounyoung asks as her feet now massage your shaft all by themselves.

"You want it to slide in my pussy don't you? Tell me how much you want it; I want you to beg for it," Wonyoung says as she keeps jerking your shaft off with her feet. "Yes," you say, pushing your face closer to hers despite being cuffed. "Well, here's your little treat for being so patient," Wonyoung replies.

Wonyoung rubs your cock against her entrance and then squats on it. "Just feeling that tight grip of that big cock in my pussy," she says. "Ahhh, yeah, nice and slow, spread it open for me," she begs as she starts bouncing on your dick, her ride being very straightforward and powerful.

"That's right, it feels good, doesn't it?" Wonyoung asks you as she pushes your cock deeper in her pussy and increases the pace. But it's the moment where she rubs her toes on your balls that drives you crazy. "That's right, give it to me; show me that good boy is putting in some extra work, yeah, yeah," she says as you push your cock upwards to pound her diamond pussy despite your limited mobility cuffed to the bed, as your willingness to fuck Wonyoung tops everything.

But Wonyoung quickly regains control and just moves on with her insane ride, going fast and deep almost as if bouncing on your big cock was like a regular job to her. She grinds her pussy on your cock and laughs like a maniac, then presses her hands on your chest and pushes hard. You try to counter. "Give it to me nice and fucking deep, oh fuck, yes, harder, harder, ahhhh," she moans when you finally grab her waist and give her the pounding that she needs so much.

"Oh, fuck," you say as your fast pace almost makes you cum. Wonyoung kisses you and enjoys the pounding you give her. "Keep taking it deep," she demands. But it's her who takes matters into her hands, spreading her legs and just demolishing your cock with fast and loud bounces.

"Shit," you groan as Wonyoung starts doing what she's known the best for—her signature spinning ride where she hits your cock from all sides while rotating on it. "Show me what a good fucking boy you are," she demands. "AHHHHHH," you scream as the walls of her tight cunt smash your cock into pieces, squeezing it as hard as they can.

"Oh yeah, that's right; keep stretching it. Shape my walls with your cock," Wonyoung demands as she continues to bounce on it like a maniac. She puts her feet in your mouth and teases you, then switches to a sideways ride while fingering her pussy and then starts spinning again. You grab her waist, trying to control her, but she clearly shows who is in command. Well, that is until Wonyoung makes the next move.

Wonyoung takes your handcuffs off, and you immediately grab her, carry fucking her all over the bedroom. "I want you to show me what you can do; unleash the beast inside you," she demands as you give her ass a couple taps. You get on top of her and start worshipping her body with plenty of kisses in all her parts: her pussy, her boobs, her belly, her mouth—nothing escapes from you.

"Good boy, that's right, I want you to worship every inch of my body," Wonyoung demands as you keep kissing her all the way to her feet, to which you pay special attention, putting her fingers up your mouth and kissing her soles. "Show me what you want; show me what you've been begging for," she continues. You lick her pussy next as Wonyoung puts herself in a fetal position to watch you worship her diamond hole. "Doesn't I have the best pussy in the whole world?" she asks. "Yes," you promptly answer with your mouth still full of her folds.

"Get deeper in that pussy," Wonyoung demands as she pushes your face in its direction. "That's so fucking good," she moans as you keep working your mouth in it, sending her to the heavens. But what she wants the most is your cock, as you put Wonyoung in a mating press position and fuck her while massaging her toes behind her head, making her moan really loud.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP IN ME, YESSS," Wonyoung screams as your hard thrusts make her body get pushed back and forth. "That cock is so wide, it stretches out my tiny little pussy so good," Wonyoung moans. "Harder, harder, fucking use it," she keeps begging as you groan with her pussy squeezing your shaft further. Your thrusts get more and more aggressive; her moans get louder and louder. "YES, YES, YES, YES, AH, AH, AH, AH," Wonyoung moans as she kisses you.

"AHHHHHH," it's your turn to scream as you pound her really hard. It's really difficult for you to hold still and not pump her pussy full of your seeds, but you stay put in spite of the extreme pressure Wonyoung's tight cunt exerts on your big cock. "Oh yeah, keep going, just like that, FUCK, YOU HIT ME SO DEEP, AHHHH," Wonyoung demands and then screams.

"Show me you're a good boy; keep holding that cum until I tell you to," Wonyoung says. "You're putting in a lot of hard work; you truly deserve the honor to cum inside the best pussy in the world," she says. You give her ass some little taps, and she giggles as you hit her deep. "That cock is doing such a good job," she says.

You take a break just to follow her instructions and avoid cumming earlier. But Wonyoung isn't a girl of taking breaks, kneeling to suck your cock as soon as you pull out of her. "Oh fuck, your mouth is so perfect, yes," you groan as Wonyoung pushes you to the edge, sucking your cock very sloppily and jerking it off with her big hands. "Oh shit," you say as she deepthroats your massive length with ease once again and increases the pace, sucking it hard until you have to give her butt a little tapping to not cum.

"Hmm, you want to see that ass bouncing while I ride your cock?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, there it is," she says, mounting on top of it in reverse cowgirl. "Oh fuck, ahhhh yeah, right there," Wonyoung moans as she is as happy as ever. "Slow down," you try to tell her. "No baby, I'm not slowing down; you're gonna take me at my best, that's right, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHH," Wonyoung says as her cute butt keeps hitting your crotch. You decide not to slow down and push upwards.

"Oh yeah, fuck, that's right, that's right, put in some fucking work," Wonyoung says as you hit her hard and deep before you tap her ass once again to survive to fight another round. "You deserve a reward, baby," she says, pulling out and sucking your cock a little more while you eat her pussy for a sexy 69.

"You're gonna follow my orders, right?" Wonyoung says. "Get up here and fuck me from behind next," she orders. You start massage her pussy in preparation as she puts her face down and ass up, moaning as you keep worshipping her fuckhole. "You're doing so well," she praises you.

"Come here, you say as you grab her waist and insert your cock in her pussy from behind. "Oh fuck, that's right, nice and deep," Wonyoung moans. "Wow, you're so tight, oh shit" you say as you grab her waist. Wonyoung counters and bounces on your cock even on all fours. "YEAH, YEAH," she repeats as she keeps moaning. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHH," you groan, trying not to cum and playing with her toes to distract yourself.

"Keep that ass up," you tell Wonyoung as her feet jerk your cock off while you thrust inside her pussy, which starts queefing as she manages to squeeze your shaft both from the inside and outside. You have to stop, punishing her for being so naughty as you masturbate her pussy, but she stays focused and reaches with her long hands to keep stroking your shaft.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung moans hard as you make her cum, but not without a price, as her jerking off makes you cover the bedsheets with your semen as well. "You're not gonna make me cum unpunished; where is my good boy? You're behaving very badly now," Wonyoung says. "Now get this cock hard again and please give it back to me," she continues.

You do just as she demands, getting hard as soon as the walls of her pussy tighten around your cock once again. "Perfect, just like that, fuck, yes, yes, yes," Wonyoung moans as you pound her from behind, tying her arms behind her back. "Spread it open, fucking spread that pussy open," she demands as she moves back into shaking her hips and moves them up and down your big cock. You answer by grabbing her shoulders and then spreading her mouth. "That's right, take it, take it," she says, never stopping to bounce as both her cheeks and your crotch clash and make loud noises clapping against each other.

"That's it, such a good boy," Wonyoung says as you pound her hard and fast. You try to match her horniness, but she's just on another level, wearing you out after a couple minutes to save yourself from an orgasm while her sweaty body keeps moving up and down your shaft regardless. "Show me you're not done, that's right," she keeps commanding as soon as you regain strength to fuck her hard again. But Wonyoung is just a different demon and keeps moving her hips in a way that the walls of her pussy now hit your cock sideways. "OHHHHH," you groan hard, gettung caught by surprise.

Even on all fours, it's Wonyoung who controls the pace, with you avoiding yet another close call by tapping her ass and giving yourself a break, begging for a blowjob. "Come suck it, oh fuck," you say to her as Wonyoung grabs your shaft and takes it in her throat like a demon. You shove your monster cock all the way in her, going balls deep and spanking her ass yet she barely moves, coating it full of her saliva and performing the loudest blowjob ever as you grab her hair and fuck her face.

You use the lubrication from her saliva to fuck Wonyoung in a spooning position and get a great look at her pretty and horny face. "That's right, that's right," she says. You kiss Wonyoung and finger her pussy as you fuck it, lifting one of her legs and attacking her cunt hard. "Fuck me until you cum, ahhhh, yeah, yeah," Wonyoung says as you seem keen on not stopping. You choke her in between kisses and then spread her legs. "So good, so good," she says as she moves to kiss you and watch your cock bulge under her. "AHHHHH, THAT'S SO DEEP," she screams as she looks at you with naugthy eyes, giggling as you push hard against her pussy and she fingers it.

"I'm gonna cum for you if you cum inside me," Wonyoung says as you get more animalesque, groaning hard at each thrust. "You're hitting me so deep; time to finish deep inside my pussy," Wonyoung begs. You kiss her feet and worship it as your love for her only increases, even forgetting about your girlfriend. "Please, give me your cum," she begs as you two share kisses, and she's now in a featal position, her long legs over her head.

You feed Wonyoung your cock as she licks her chops afterwards, using her saliva for another session of deep pounding as you two have some very passionate sex. "You know how deep that is? Your cock is so big, I feel so jealous of my sister for finding you; I need to share you with her or make you mine altogether, fuckkkk," Wonyoung says.

"Let it out, let it out; your reward for being such a good boy will be breeding the best pussy in the world. Have you ever cum inside my sister?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, yesterday it was the first time," you answer. "After how many encounters?" Wonyoung asks again. "Fifteen," you answer. "Yet here you are, ready to cum inside me after just meeting me 30 minutes ago, bad boy," Wonyoung says. "Well, I can't blame you; my pussy is just that good," she continues.

"Fuck that feels so good," you say to Wonyoung. "I know," she says. "Now fuck me hard, because that's what I want; show me how much you love this perfect pussy; get ready to give me the best fucking load you can. Put that cum deep inside my pussy," she continues.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven shots. You finally unload your cum gun inside Wonyoung's pussy. Her walls squeeze you so hard your cock pops out of it as your white sperm runs down into the bedheets. You even manage to leave a couple drops on her beautiful right foot as your cocks come out and the remaining cum lands perfectly in there for her to put it in her mouth and lick it. You groan like crazy as you're completely drained.

"Let me milk every last drop," Wonyoung says, massaging her feet on it and letting a few sparkles of semen come out and fall on her belly. "Greay work, you're such a good boy," Wonyoung says as she praises you, who can't even think straight after she showed how much of a ball drainer she was.

And just like that, Daah opens the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Wonyoung's older sister asks. "Daah, I can explain," you say, using the default statement. "Not sure you can explain fucking my sister for 30 minutes; I saw everything," Daah replies.

"You were there the whole time?" you say, confused. "Yes, behind the door, you're so stupid, but I get it; she's young and hot," Daah says.

"Sister I think I can compensate for being a cheating slut," Wonyoung says. "Not sure how," Daah replies.

"Well, your boyfriend said yesterday was the first time she came in your pussy," Wonyoung says. "That's right," Daah said. "Well, has he ever fucked you in the ass?" Wonyoung asks.

"No, I'm scared of even trying," Daah says. "Well, I can teach you, sister, let's go to the shower," Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung and Daah line up their tall, naked bodies for another round of sex. You put your cock in your girlfriend's ass for the first time. And she struggles.

"AHHHHHHH," Daah screams, not ready for your massive cock in her ass.

"Well, sister, it looks like you'll have to follow my lead," Wonyoung says.

"You're such a naughty girl, Wonyoung," Daah says, handing your cock to her younger sister for a 2nd round.

"Watch me, learn from the best; look how easy it is." Wonyoung brags as your full length goes in her ass without even a peep.

"How does she even do that? I guess she's indeed a one in a thousand years girl," Daah thinks to herself. And she's right.

"Come taste it," Wonyoung tells her sister, as you quickly bust inside her asshole.

"Wow, that's delicious," Daah says, tasting your cum.

"I think you're finally ready; I can go now."

#wonyoung smut #ive smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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