#I ain’t tagging all these cookies

[2knightt]

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!��� he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm. 

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them. 

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth. 

“Country Club���s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana. 

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?” 

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him. 

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face. 

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you. 

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .” 

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.” 

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow. 

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared. 

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been. 

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?” 

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off. 

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind. 

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill. 

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping. 

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.” 

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible. 

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ. 

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it. 

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body. 

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor. 

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words. 

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack? 

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear,  standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.” 

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way. 

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes,  but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going. 

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked. 

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more. 

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered. 

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples. 

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again. 

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly. 

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying. 

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together. 

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile. 

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded. 

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it. 

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own. 

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes. 

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her. 

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic. 

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head. 

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock. 

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away. 

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle. 

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.” 

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  CHRISTMAS LOVE

SUMMARY : dean ate something he shouldn’t have eaten, but in the meantime, there’s something to ease the ache until it can be fixed. not that it’s a problem… per se..

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), handjob, cum eating, cum kissing, p in v, aphrodisiac chocolate cookies 

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : jimin song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — aphrodisiac. yup, I thought I hated Christmas, but actually it’s not so bad if it's centred around Dean. ✨mental illness✨ XXX

Everything was fine for the last forty minutes or so. 

Dean helped his girlfriend set up the television in their bedroom—his bedroom that he partially convinced her to stay in permanently—put the snacks together, while stealing some chocolate-peppermint thumbprint cookies Charlie brought over earlier today, as his girlfriend stayed in his room to choose a Christmas movie.

He knew it would be about the Grinch. She was pretty Grinch-y sometimes around Christmas, but just like the Grinch, Dean got her to change her mind about Christmas being the most awful holiday. 

But Christmas definitely couldn’t beat Halloween—it’s their number one, favourite holiday. 

But… back to the main point, Dean couldn’t relax. He tried everything, imagined his go-to turn offs when he’s unbearably horny: Sam in lingerie, Cas in lingerie, hell—even Charlie in lingerie. He’d cringed at the thought of them, completely disgusted as his mind made it like a film without his permission, but their faces and bodies ended up transforming into the woman currently laying in his arms.

Nothing worked, not reliving being in Hell, not the memory of having the Mark—nothing made his dick soft. Mostly because after every single bad day, he went to her. 

It was her he buried himself into, her lips that kissed away tears, her caresses that healed up his wounds… you see? His mind is going straight to it like there’s no other path to take. He usually doesn’t mind, and neither does she, but this is supposed to be a wholesome moment. Just her and him watching a movie together, that’s all that he wanted to do for her today. 

Unfortunately, his dick had other ideas.

She’s not even fully clothed, which makes it even worse for him. She’s wearing nothing beneath the blue flannel she borrowed from him—no underwear, no bra, just some fluffy Christmas socks on her feet. Just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He bit his lip to hold back a moan. 

It wasn’t her fault she was practically naked. Sometimes he was way too hot and she’d end up uncomfortably sweaty in the middle of the night. Her solution: wear nothing but Dean’s shirt. It was great, Dean could smother her and be wrapped around her without her trying to get away, but right now, it ain’t that great. 

Right now, Dean knows that with one move from either one of them and she’d know what was up: yup, his dick.

Still, he was squirming too much for it to go unnoticed. And he shoved food into his mouth to pretend the chips, and the brownies, and everything else he ate were making him moan. Unlike her, he was wearing his t-shirt, some boxers, and socks to combat the cold of his concrete room. But now, he was flushed, and hot, and completely uncomfortable. 

“Dean,” she scolded, turning aggressively onto her back to gaze up at him. “What’s up? You can’t sit still—which is normal, but not this much…” she trailed off, immediately identifying the blush on his cheeks and the glaze of lust in his green eyes. “Woah, what’s that for?” She teased, poking his cheek. 

He grabbed her hand quickly before she could pull it away and kissed her palm. “Nothin’,” he brushed off, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and his hand tightened around her wrist as his mind told him over and over: dammit, just touch her. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” she said playfully, biting her lip. Subtly, she moved her hand away from her stomach and brushed her hand up his crotch experimentally. Dean groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Ah, a boner,” she said casually, then squeezed his cock over his boxers.

“You do know we’re watching the Grinch and not a porno right?” She continued to taunt with a grin on her face. He whined softly, opening his eyes to glare down at her. She batted her lashes at him innocently, but he knew she meant well. 

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked breathily. His eyes softened when she sneaked her hand inside the stretchy waistband of his briefs and brushed her fingertips along the length of his cock. “God… I… please,” he moaned, leaning over her to bury his face in her neck. 

“I’ve got you,” she told him quietly, pulling her hand out to hook her fingers over the waistband of his boxers and lower them down his thighs. He cursed softly, and allowed her to push his chest so he could lie down on his back. She straddled his thighs and smiled down at him hotly, lifting her hand up to her mouth to leave her palm slick in saliva before wrapping it around him. 

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, clutching her thighs. 

Warm and heavy in her hand, she squeezed his shaft gently and held eye contact with him as she stroked up and down. He smoothed his hands up her thighs, grasping her hips beneath his warm flannel. He attempted to bring her forward, and she did move forward, and slid her hand up beneath his shirt to lift it.

“Come like this, yeah?” She asked, starting to twist her hand up and down his cock. He whined, a cute pout drawing his lips downwards.

“Is this… are you not turned on?” Dean questioned breathily, slightly surprised by her proposition. He didn’t try to convince her otherwise and kept his hands still on her hips. 

“I am…” she smiled, then dropped her gaze down to his cock, watching the swift slide upwards and downwards of her hand over his excitement, “but I wanna finish the movie.” He bit his lip, his eyes flickering down to her hand moving quick and steady, his precum aiding each stroke. “Then… we can have fun.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, “I’m sorry…” He’d like to apologise to her fully for ruining the night, but he gave into the pleasure of her soft hand wrapped around his cock, letting the heat of his arousal and the spark of his orgasm take over his body.

“No, I’m good with this,” she smiled sweetly, ignoring the throb of her clit and flood of arousal between her legs.

She worshipped him quietly, focused on touching his freckled skin with his shirt shoved up his chest. As he throws his head back, blushing red, vocalising the pleasure that’s painted across his stunning face. 

She faintly remembers what Dean looked like when he was younger. He’s much older now, still so beautiful—always. His face is not smooth, stubble covers his jaw, wrinkles enhance the beauty of his eyes, and always those goddamn lashes of his, curled upwards naturally. 

He’s covered from head to toe in freckles, cute freckles, some light, others dark. Sometimes they make patterns, triangles, a trail that fades, some of them overlap. He thinks it makes him look dirty, dusty, but he’s always had a heart-stopping beauty that no one could match. Effortless beauty no one could achieve. 

He’s much softer than before, but the faint cut of his abs remained. There were scars, too, ones Cas didn’t heal because Dean didn’t ask, but Cas comes through sometimes and does a full sweep. Eventually, she finds new scars, new scratches, new marks. Then, they disappear and she memorises him all over again. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean requested breathlessly, squirming and digging his blunt nails into the flesh of her hips. Lashes fluttered against his cheekbones as he opened his eyes. 

“Touch myself?” She repeated with a gentle laugh, lifting her hand up to his face. He instantly leaned into her touch and slid one of his hands to the small of her back to bring her closer. “Baby, I only wanna touch you,” she whispered enticingly, cupping his jaw to brush her thumb across his lip. 

Up and down, she continued to give him pleasure, knowing he was close as he throbbed in her hand, as his muscles twitched with every passing second. His breath hitched and she squeezed him, moving her hand faster, then lowered her hand away from his face to use both hands on his cock. 

Hands wet with his precum, she made a ring with her finger to massage the frenulum and spread the sticky arousal dribbling out of the slit of his cockhead with her thumb. 

She licked her lips at the sight and smirked, “come for me, Dean.” It was hot that she had this much control over him. His body hardened and he called out her name as he spilled hot release over her hand and his stomach. 

Curses spilled from his mouth and he seized her mischievous hands when she refused to stop. “You’re still hard,” she murmured, stunned, but he was too pleased with the release to pay attention to her words. 

“You’re mean,” Dean complained breathily, eyes opening lazily.

“It’s a gift you’ll open later tonight,” she promised in a joking manner, taking her hands out from his loving grasp. “You’re still hard, by the way,” she repeated curiously, gripping his still erect cock at the base. 

“Fuck… what?” He asked, bewildered, watching her move back and lean down to lick his cum off his stomach. He whimpered quietly, his cock red and pretty in her hand still, one hundred percent still aroused. 

The fact that she was licking his cum off his tummy didn’t help at all. The warm, wet muscle flicked smoothly across his soft skin, gathering his tangy, creamy cum. Occasionally, her teeth would graze his skin, setting his nerves alight, and she’d suck until marks painted his body. Then, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and sucked it clean with a pleased moan. 

He grunted and threw his head back into the pillow again. He blindly made contact with her hair, buried his fingers carefully into her silky locks and tugged her upwards. She went to him without resistance and kissed him as he waited for her slick lips.

The kiss was wet and erotic. He could taste his cum, felt some of it against her tongue, unswallowed. He took it with a moan of pleasure, licking across her tongue in gratitude. He moved her hair out of the way subconsciously, pressing her closer to him, impossibly close. 

He got a hold of her hip again and smoothed his hand up the curve of her back, lifting the flannel. She hummed inquisitively, pulling away momentarily before locking lips with Dean again to run her tongue along the roof of his mouth then to taste the unique peppermint on his tongue that was definitely not from any teeth-brushing. 

She pulled away and blinked down at him, silently intrigued as he caught his breath. “Am I cursed?” He wondered out loud, bringing her hips down onto his cock needily. They moaned in unison. “Oh, fuck… did we piss a witch off?” He whined, grinding his hips up into her wet folds. “Rowena,” he growled, wondering if he’d done something to piss off the Scottish red-head or if she'd done just to fuck with him. 

“Hey, slow down…” she gasped, unbuttoning Dean’s flannel from her body at last. “Did you eat those cookies Charlie brought?” She inquired, slowing down the roll of her hips. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, his tone puzzled. He opened his eyes, peeking up at the now-open flannel exposing her naked body to his dirty gaze. 

“Dean, oh my God,” she giggled, halting the movement of her hips. He frowned. “How many?” 

“I dunno, four.” He shrugged. Trying to regain her focus, he took his cock in his hand and found her clit with the soft head by pushing it up and down through her folds. She moaned softly, thighs shaking.  

“Yeah, this is not going away anytime soon,” she said quietly, squirming when he held her hip and nudged her forward. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his brows furrowing in bemusement. “What do cookies have to do wi-”

“They’re aphrodisiacs,” she interrupted him, shrugging his flannel off her shoulders before throwing it beside him. He gazed up at her, adorably dumbfounded. “Well, at least the chocolate is.” 

“What?! Why would she-? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, sitting up higher on the bed, carding his fingers through his honey hair, making it messy and sexy. 

“I… forgot. I was hanging out with Charlie and Stevie… I’m sorry,” she gave him an apologetic smile, but amusement glimmered in her eyes, which made him smile, too. 

“No.. babe, it’s okay, I’m just really horny…” he trailed off, then took her arms and tugged her towards him with a big smile on his face. 

“We can call Cas,” she offered with a laugh, giving him a sweet kiss when he brought her closer and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“Why don’t we test this out, first?” He asked, sneaking his hand between her legs to circle his fingertips over her entrance. Her arousal drenched his fingers and he hummed, pleased with the copious slickness that coated her pussy. 

“Huh?” She murmured, preoccupied with his adept fingers as they found her clit and began drawing slow circles. She nibbled gently on his jaw and kissed her way down his neck. 

“Why else would Charlie make them?” Dean inquired, bending one knee to gently nudge her behind and silently guide her over to his cock. She pulled away from his throat to consider his question as he lined his cock up with her entrance.

“Well, she did say-” She started thoughtfully, sinking down on his cock. 

“Exactly,” Dean cut her off, enjoying the stretch of her walls around his cock. Dean gazed up at her lustfully, slid his hands up her thighs, and flattened one hand up her stomach. “Lean back, bend your knees,” he instructed, then bit his lip. 

She raised a brow at him, but did as he asked. She bent her knees and he hooked his arms beneath, wrapping them around to grip the top of her knees, spreading her legs open for a clear view of his cock inside her.

“Sorry about the movie,” he chuckled, lifting his hips upwards.

“I guess it’s fair,” she smiled at him, leaning back with her arms behind her, between his legs, “since I forgot to tell you about the cookies.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s somethin’ to be sorry for.” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It was a heady feeling, and you needed a moment just to recover. Even though you were on birth control, every time he came inside you still felt like a dangerous, delicious game.

But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[written-beyond-the-grave]

Getting with Mitch Rapp HC's

After an intense who knows how long a bitch finally cracked and decided to write about Mitch Rapp since he’s a sweetie who doesn’t get talked about enough… like I been under the tag and I know writing takes so much time and effort so I decided to step tf in and give it a turn… bare with me

We all know after the death of Katrina this man went completely off grid, quit college, didn’t speak to his brother, went all in on avenging her on his own….. To take down a whole cell and the mastermind… yeah, white boy won’t shoot up a school, but will become an almost martyr (he’s what the govt would deadass hire, and keep on rotation)

ANYWAYS

I dead do feel like Mitch would we cautious, wary, and sus as hell with a civilian s/o

Let’s unpack: this man after Katrina probably wasn’t seeing anyone after that being emotionally scarred and whatnot (maybe he had to fuck someone or a few for the sake of a mission or kiss them, but it was just business). So the likelihood of this man entertaining someone else like with intention and not just some one fuck wonder is gonna be crazy ngl. This man has to look over his shoulder and his trust issues got trust issues, like his energy on a regular basis doesn’t scream “stay away”

But anyway, to catch his attention I feel like would be by constantly meeting him in mundane situations. I’m not doing the whole “you’re partners” trope, my black ass isn’t in this luv

Laundry room in the apartment and y’all get clothes mixed in on accident and you end up with his shirt or something— or the age old tale of him getting your underwear…. Or y’all shifting through the mixed laundry picking out what’s yours lmfaoooo

Mail getting dropped off in the wrong box or something

Bumping into each other at the grocery store and Mitch has the bare necessities in his basket and yours is like girl dinner coded

And the thing is, he’s not necessarily rude in interactions (when him throwing knives and punching his punching bag got loud and the person who owned the building asked Mitch to keep it down, and Mitch was respectful and said sure…. He’s not an asshole) but he might be on edge and try to speed things up

I feel like what might get the ball rolling might be a few different things: him seeing someone following you home that he KNOWS doesn’t live in his building (ik this man recognized everyone who lives in that bitch), being catcalled aggressively while walking home, seeing you stay in your car because a sus ass person is waiting for you to get out your car so he comes up to your window to help you out, or some comment about a terrorist attack “shoutout to terrorists, bc the US when to Afghanistan saw all this oil and snatched their chain. “We” (bc ain’t no WE here) snatch their chain and they retaliate, then we yell “it’s the Muslims” to spark a debate

Ngl he’s gonna have to let you cook with that one bc I feel like the “shoutout to terrosits” would’ve had that man spiraling and attacking you immediately. IK that man would spazz on the spot…. So let’s keep it to the safer options hm?

Soooooo after that it would spark a bit of conversation and solidify the familiarity bc here is your neighbor that you tend to see sparklingly helping you out

And being the person I am, I feel like as a thank you you’d leave him some brownies, cookies, or maybe a whole ass lasagna with instructions on how to best reheat at his doorstep being too shy to outright do it

Mans is confused but I feel like he’d take it to be nice, leave it in the fridge for like 2 days until he’s back late from a meeting and needs something in him and the only in that barren ass fridge is the lasagna…. He indulges and once he finds it’s good as hell he bodies half of it

He probably has it for lunch/dinner next day too. And then like washes it and knocks on your door to like give it back. He tells you thanks and you didn’t need to, but you say otherwise. And at this point with his stubborn ass if you’d invite over for dinner he’d respectfully decline so now there needs to be an event that puts him in your place of residence

Cue you taking a tumble on iced pavement

Mwah, inconvenience 😘

And now Mitch being at the right place wrong time, has to help you up and probably check for a concussion since that fall was nasty. He helped you into the elevator then into your place to help check your head and then like how you’re functioning bc goddamn. Once he figures out your fine, he’ll tell you to get a professional opinion and he makes you an nice ice pack and gives advice for how to take care of it

He thinks he’s good to leave you until he sees you struggling to get your bearings. He hates that he does this, but asks if you need any help since your mind is scrambled. Maybe he gets your some Advil, but then realizes you can’t take it on an empty stomach (he’s done it too many damn times himself) and so he looks into your fridge for something to heat up in the microwave to give you before you take the pill 

This is where the relationship starts and y’all make small talk, and how this is the longest you ever seen this man. He smirks, and snarks back. Once he gives you the food and sees you take the pill he’s off the clock and bids you a goodnight 

Until you see him gain tomorrow since he probably starts to check in on you, not like he’s been getting emotionally fed by having an associate outside of work that isn’t trying to kill him or isn’t Stan or Irene. Just a normie…. But he be lying about his feelings 

Next interaction is him coming back from a semi rough work week, and you catch him before he goes in and since he looks over it. Maybe a home cooked meal could help? You invite him over, no strings attached and go ok your way to get the braised short ribs out the oven for the mashed potatoes. You don’t tell him what’s for dinner tho

Thinking nothing will result of this, you get a knock at your door 30 minutes later with him and his hair still slightly damp. And maybe like a case in his beer bc he was told to never show up empty handed (so cute). Then bam! Y’all have some nice conversation, Mitch making sure to keep the attention off him and his job and do some information digging about you. School you went to, parents, hobbies, etc

He’s also scarfing down the ribs and such, you’re probably going to send him with food home tbh. He looks like he’ll need it 

After that it’s really wraps, like it destined for y’all to be real friends! Once he gets sent home with the plastic tupper (we don’t give guests the glass in case we don’t get shit back) we all know he’ll be back again

Then starts the tradition of Mitch eating at your place for like once a week that later gets bumped up to like 3 times a week. At some point your forgetting ingredients and maybe text Mitch about it, funny thing is he’s at the liquor store getting alcohol you might like since beer isn’t always going to cut it. He texted back what you need, and when he arrives he hands you what you need. This man stopped next door to the Shop Rite to get you the stuff…. Eventually I feel like he just buys your groceries since he eat EATS with all the work he puts in 

Friendship established

Y’all been shooting the shit for a while until there’s an emotional shift…. Lets say he’s having an episode of anger and just shuts down. On top the roof brooding and shit, it’s Katrina in another nightmare, him walk my himself with a panic attack, Stan up his ass, he just cannot right now. You take an elevator up there to see what’s up. You ask him what’s up, what’s wrong but he just ignores you. And by this point you know he can be a tight lipped lil shit…. But it doesn’t stop you from being there. So you do what you know best about which is just being there

So y’all sit in silence. And maybe you start to ramble to fill the silence, talking about the way your parents did a thing about colors when you were super and didn’t feel like talking. They said numbers “1 was green meaning yes, 2 was red so no to whatever they asked, 3 was yellow so a I’m not sure”. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence 

“Are you ok to be by yourself?”

Him staring straight ahead

“Do you want me to go?”

A painful hard silence

You respect his wishes and get ready to leave him until you heard a soft “2”, and the. Sit your ass down.

“Ok, so you want silence?”

“…..3”

“Ok, I’ll just sit here and watch the time…. We can get ice cream after….” You were doing your best dammit

Mitch felt a fond feeling some up over him, but didn’t say anything. You guys were up there until it got too damn late and cold. You tell him it’s time to go, and that when he looks at you like LOOKS and it’s just different…. You know he doesn’t want to go, and you understand but you can’t let self sabotage happen

“I get it, life is lifing and shit sucks but even  when you’re not ready for the day, it can’t always be night” 

This man knows you quoted Kanye

He gives you another long look, and you get up and offer your hand to help him up. He stared up at it… then grabs it to get up and y’all get inside. You two end up eating ice cream sandwiches 

Now the seed is planted for feelings to grow… MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA

After that y’all hangout regularly when he’s home, you give him normalcy in his life which he appreciates 

He will die on a hill before he admits or even acknowledges the feelings he has for you, lets be real he probably feels like he’s cheating on Katrina and that he’s not here to make friends since he’s a whole ass assassin and whatever. That’s fine, but when he’s wondering what you’re up to, or what’s for dinner, or reminiscing on a joke you made he feels warm and fuzzy and sometimes not as on edge as he usually is on missions

Stan noticed

I don’t think things will turn until he gets home one day at an odd hour of the night like 3am type shit and is bruised over his face. He just wants to lay in bed after taking a nice shower, but nah there’s you in the hall coming back from the club and having fun. You might be tipsy and say hi to Mitch but all that leaves your system once you see his face.  *giggles like a school girl kicking her feet* 

You’re on him without thinking asking what happened, he’s trying to keep it together and not blow up on you since you’re friends but he really wants to go inside. But you let him and follow him in asking for a first aid kit that he has. And you end up cleaning off his face after he showers, during that time you go to your place and get a first aid kit that is more advanced than his (that spray on band aid shit). Now it's you disinfecting wounds and putting neosporin on them and sealing it. During this time you’re complaining about wtf this man did while he was away, completely ignoring the fact that he’s in a towel. You’re giving him an earful and Mitch is rolling his eyes but not moving much bc when was the last time someone touched him so gently?

He’s probably taking in your clubbing attire while you do this, not in a weird way but like looking at the glitter, the new hair style, etc and putting it to memory 

“What the fuck were you doing? Jesus you look like shit”

Cue eye roll and for that you poke a nasty bruise that has his muscles flexing, he grabs your wrist for that

You give him a glare and don’t back down…. He answers with “The government” after that you don’t ask questions. The FBI agent assigned to your phone is probably already on your ass so you don’t need more enemies 

You fix him up, tell him to chill out, and then go to leave, but not right before him saying “thank you” 

We love a polite man who is in denial about having feelings, and you not acting in them bc Mitch is like a blank slate to read when he really wants to be

So like the way y’all talk about feelings and decide to get together and shit is not my forte, and breaking down his walls to talk about Katrina and the nature of his work to a degree that doesn’t scare you off. And his work on being emotionally available to you since he now cares for you more than he can admit

But we KNOW this man is a complete softie

Once he loves he LOVES, no question about it. And once you gain that, you have him for life

Fuck even if he’s been away for an assignment for months at a time, he’d probably head back to your apartment rather than his…. He knows where home is 

He might not be the type to declare his love for you verbally all the time, but he shows it through actions like remembering the brand of stuff you like. Bringing you dessert or picking up food for you when work has been bullshit. Maybe not a gourmet meal for breakfast in bed (he can cook but like take your expectations, he can throw down for breakfast tho and make good ass sandwiches), but he will give you the rest of the milk for the cereal. Do the dishes, trash duty, put furniture together, wait for you outside till you get off work and drive you home. And even tidy around if he sees you don’t have the time

And when things get more serious put you as an authorized user on his card without telling you. You’ll just find that shit in your Apple Wallet

He’d keep the loving touches at home but he’s a cuddle bug, loyal to a fault, and loves to spend time at home with you. Home dates are a must, but he does love a good date night to see you dressed up

He would grow to love the domestic nature of your relationship and that’s what this man needs besides a copious amount of therapy

You’d also find out that he’s a nerd, but like undercover. I feel like he’d be a Nightwing or Red Hood fan from DC, and other comics from his childhood shows as well

He’s protective, smart, probably would talk to you about getting an air tag or some government tracking thing in case of emergencies. Then maybe take you on a gun date to teach you some self defense which probably goes wrong because you’re a CIVILIAN and that punch came too fast at you and you screamed and ducked while covering your eyes. He feels bad now, but now knows to take it to baby steps 

Your assassin boyfriend has your best interest at heart, promise 

A/N: I do be writing for black readers iykyk, but here is just very general.... Let me get to the tomfoolery next time babes (like Mitch helping you take down the braids)

[diorsluv]

feather , part 13

“ i finally cut you off ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, edwards.73, jackhughes, and 96,892 others

yourusername rowdy and huggy bear were surprisingly comfortable but they kept interrupting my criminal minds marathon 😔

tagged: mackie.samo, dylanduke25, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, edwards.73, markestapa

view all comments

username81 i can’t believe mackie let her give him a makeover

→ yourusername i can’t believe it either

jackhughes i don’t see what you see in spencer reid but ok

→ yourusername you’re clinically insane. go get some help.

→ _quinnhughes i don’t see it either

→ lhughes_06 me neither

→ yourusername i’m calling your mom and telling her that you’ve all gone crazy.

markestapa that snow was FREEZING but attacking you with that pillow really made it all worth it

→ yourusername this is harassment and i feel targeted ☹️☹️

→ markestapa really? good 😊

username53 THE SHOPPING CARTS IN A PARKING GARAGE?? the math ain’t mathing

mackie.samo honestly that makeover felt kinda replenishing

→ yourusername funny that ur using that word when u threw my REPLENISHING face mask in the trash after 5 minutes

jamie.drysdale how did she manage to convince you all to make those mini heart shaped pizzas

→ lhughes_06 uhh see the thing is..

→ edwards.73 about that 😥

→ markestapa wellllll

→ _quinnhughes they’re idiots

→ jackhughes yeah um that’s the thing!

→ mackie.samo so…………

→ dylanduke25 she uh… she didn’t

→ rutgermcgroarty oh my god you all turned soft for her

→ yourusername oh shut up they were always like that they just stopped pretending 🙄

lhughes_06 you kept complaining when jack and quinn piled on top of you

→ yourusername BC THEY KEPT MOVING and 350 lbs of weight on your back isn’t ideal

→ edwards.73 just like how you kept complaining when benedict came into the picture? lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 what no idk what ur talking abt shut up

→ yourusername ?????

username75 did ethan just expose luke 😭😭

→ username64 it’s not like we didn’t know anyway

bookerburke_ aw we should make mini pizzas when you get back ☺️☺️

→ yourusername ofc mwah 🥰

yourusername

liked by dylanduke25, _alexturcotte, luca.fantilli, and 79,992 others

yourusername gingerbread house contest went.. um.. let’s just say there was an obvious but not crowned (😒) winning team! and then we baked desserts bc these competitive dummies couldn’t stand to lose against me n dyl 🤗🤗

view all comments

mackie.samo u literally didnt win

→ yourusername u literally didnt finish ur house

dylanduke25 our team clearly won

→ yourusername ofc ofc

markestapa my team did a better job

→ yourusername ethan kept licking the frosting and mackie spilled the candy all over the counter…

→ edwards.73 and we still did a better job 🥱

username56 the gingerbread houses are so chaotic lmaooooo

username98 THE SANTA COOKIES AWWWW

username49 i can smell the diabetes coming from this post

jackhughes i like to think our house didn’t turn out that bad

→ lhughes_06 fr we did good

→ yourusername only because quinn was yelling at you the whole time

→ _quinnhughes i wasn’t yelling i was just loudly guiding them

colecaufield save some cookies for me

→ yourusername by the time you get them they’ll have gone bad 😭😭

username48 they’re all so competitive it’s so funny

rutgermcgroarty “how many heart shaped desserts can you make in one week” challenge go!

→ yourusername shut up there’s nothing wrong with liking heart shaped desserts ☹️

→ rutgermcgroarty it’s become an unhealthy addiction

_alexturcotte i personally believe the last gingerbread house is the best one

→ mackie.samo EXACTLYYY

→ edwards.73 OBVIOUSLY

→ markestapa YES THANK YOU

→ yourusername you all need help

username71 HOW ARE YOUR SNOWMEN DESIGNS SO NEAT

next chapter notes ) i’m not kidding when i tell you it took me forever to make this BUT I HOPE EVERYONE STILL LIKES IT

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot

[ab4eva]

‘Ain’t That Loving You Baby’

Summary: Reader is out of sorts all day - grumpy, petulant, rude and just plain bitchy. Elvis takes it upon himself to set her straight.

Warnings: NFSW 18+, spanking, non-con spanking, established relationship, time period related ideas about marriage/relationships, copious use of pet names, use of the term “daddy”, fingering, aftercare, fluff. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Authors note: Y’all, sometimes inspiration for a fic strikes in the most unexpected of ways, as with this one. I know this isn’t everyone’s cuppa, so if I’ve tagged you and you aren’t into it, apologies and please just keep right on scrolling. Now please enjoy one of my top Elvis fantasies that I will write in as many different ways as humanly possible until the day I die.

Word count: 3.6k

-

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it - why you were so out of sorts today. One minute you were close to tears, feeling sensitive and tender if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way or seemed the least bit careless with you. The next minute you were blowing up at some poor member of the Memphis Mafia, Vernon or even Elvis himself. You were grumpy, combative, and just generally in a very bad mood. It was as if a black cloud were hanging over your head, following your every step, raining on your own personal parade just to piss you off. The worst part was you knew you were being a brat but you were powerless to stop it. You felt itchy and irritated, on edge from the moment you stepped out the front doors of Graceland that morning to run your errands.

It didn’t help that when you returned, Elvis and the boys were lounging in the living room, making a right mess of things - beer bottles littering every surface, ash trays full to the brim with cigar ash, dirty plates covering the floor - it looked like a literal bomb had gone off. You’d just cleaned the entire house yesterday from top to bottom. Elvis had begged you to hire a housekeeper after you’d gotten married, but you were old fashioned, you saw it as the wife’s job to keep a clean house. And so you did…until all of these beastly men came and messed it up again. You surveyed the mess, a look of displeasure coloring your pretty face, your hands clenched into tight fists. Your heart pounded as you dug your fingernails into the soft flesh of your palm and tried very hard not to scream.

“Oh hey Y/N,” Red said lazily, the first of them to notice you standing in the doorway. “These cookies are damn delicious.” Your eyes zeroed in on his hand and you saw he held one of your freshly baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, the ones you’d painstakingly made dozens of last night. They were meant for the cookie exchange your book club was having tomorrow. Your eyes slowly surveyed the rest of the men in the living room, all of them perched here and there on the furniture or the floor… and all of them with cookies in their hands. The big platter heaped with cookies you had carefully placed on top of the fridge now sat almost empty in the middle of the coffee table. Your eyes found Elvis’s as you inhaled sharply and gave him a look that could kill. He had the good grace to look abashed as he quickly dropped the cookie he was holding, standing up slowly from where he sat on the couch as he moved towards you, holding both hands in front of him in a gesture meant to placate you but it only enraged you further.

“Now baby, we didn’t mean to eat all these here cookies, but you know they’re my favorite and I-I-I couldn’t resist. And I had to share with the guys, otherwise what kind of host would I be?” His blue eyes were sparkling with something close to amusement and his voice dripped honey, soft and low, soothing. He knew the look you were giving him, knew he had to tread carefully.

“Elvis…baby,” you said in a dangerous and mocking whisper, “those cookies were for my book club.” You spat the words out through gritted teeth, barely containing your rage. The thing is, you were usually so easygoing, so even-keeled, the very definition of hospitable to guests in your home. Normally, this wouldn’t even phase you. But today? It made you so angry you could barely speak. Poor Jerry had the unfortunate thought at that moment to try and smooth the situation over by offering to clean up the mess they’d made only to have you snap at him (“Don’t bother! None of you had the bright idea to even think before turning my living room into a pigsty!”) as you stomped out of the room.

Things didn’t end there as your rampage continued for the rest of the day, cutting down anyone and anything daring to cross your path. Vernon made the mistake of asking you about a shopping bill for some new dresses you purchased last week, innocently wanting to know the total so he could add it to the monthly expense account. You almost wrung his neck - the sheer audacity of the man! The Colonel came sweeping in cheerily in the late afternoon, trying to pull one of his old carney tricks on you, thinking it would lighten your mood. It had the opposite effect and you told him off so completely that even Elvis had to chuckle at it with a bemused smile. But the final straw came that evening, as you and Elvis sat peacefully (for his part, at least) in the living room, quietly reading after a rather tense dinner. You made some snide, off the cuff remark aimed at the way your husband’s business was being run and in an instant, you knew you’d stepped over the line, pushed Elvis past the limit of what he’s willing to take.

As soon as the words fly out of your mouth you wish you could pull them back in, gather the broken pieces of them and keep them inside. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying to his face, realizing your mistake too late, realizing your bad mood has landed you here, in uncharted territory. Only once before had you taken things too far - two weeks after your wedding - Elvis had stormed out of the house in a barely suppressed rage only to return the next morning, acting as if nothing had even happened. You see his body still and his blue eyes widen in surprise before they darken, anger and annoyance flashing across his face before being replaced with a look of willful determination. You know that look, it’s the one he gets when he has an idea in his head, and like a dog with a bone, won’t let go until he gets what he wants. Your heart speeds up in your chest, pounding almost painfully, you feel a little lightheaded and your mouth goes dry. You swallow thickly, opening your mouth to apologize, to take back the words you’ve already said, anything at all to stop this train from hurtling off the cliff. “Elvis, I-,” the words start to tumble from your mouth in a rush before he cuts you off angrily.

“That’s enough!” he yells, his voice booming loud and firm, your ears ringing with the force of it. “Now listen here, girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but that’s. Enough.” His voice is now dangerously low as he punctuates each word with a stab of his finger in your direction, his gold rings glittering wildly in the soft light of the room. He stands abruptly and strides towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly and holding you there. You struggle against him, beating his solid chest with your closed fists like a child, not wanting to be held.

“Lemme go…let me go!” you practically scream in his face. Something inside you refuses to be comforted in this moment, you feel as if he’s suffocating you. You don’t want him to touch you, don’t want him near you. And yet, it’s all you want, to be here, in his arms. His deliciously musky scent fills your nostrils as he presses your head into his shirt in an attempt to calm you. His chest is heaving with restrained emotion and his wiry chest hairs tickle your nose through his unbuttoned collar. Confusion swirls in your brain, you’re too upset to sort through the emotions that have been tormenting you all day as you thrash against him. His lip curls up in an annoyed smirk as he grabs your flailing fists, pinning them to your side as his jaw clenches, his strong arms vise-like as he clutches you tightly to his chest.

“Now, you’re gonna tell me why ya got a bee in your britches, darlin. Why ya been a goddamn brat all goddamn day… or I’m gonna make ya tell me,” he commands, his voice rough and low. His eyes search yours and his nostrils flair slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to keep you in check as you still struggle against him. You can see the vein in his neck, the one that drives you wild, popping out - which means he’s excited or angry - or both.

“I’d like to see you try,” you spit at him scornfully, your bright eyes challenging him, your lip turning up into a slight sneer as you wriggle some more.

“Don’t test me, little one. I think someone needs an attitude adjustment and I’m just the one to give it to ya.” He squeezes you tighter in his arms as you squirm, still trying to break free, and suddenly you’re having a little trouble breathing. You stop moving for a moment and his grip loosens just a little as you gulp in a breath of air. “As your husband, it’s my job to set you right when you’re misbehaving. So I’m gonna ask ya again, darlin - why are ya so outta sorts today?”

You stare at him, at a loss for words. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s gotten into you. It’s just a bad day. You remember waking up and feeling fine, maybe a little tired. Elvis was already gone, his side of the bed cold and empty. He’d been distracted with contract negotiations when you found him in the kitchen, already eating breakfast. Without you. You had wanted to tell him a story about something that happened yesterday that made you think of him. But just as you were about to he was up and out for a meeting, without ever kissing you good morning. Or goodbye. All of these little things, you suddenly realize, subconsciously added up to you feeling neglected and uncared for by him. They had curled inside your belly without you knowing, sending sad thoughts to your brain all day long. You bite your lip as it all comes rushing in and you feel yourself close to tears.

You can’t tell him these things. They’re all too silly, too small, too insignificant in the grand scheme of it all. You just stare at him, your chest heaving, your eyes silently pleading with him to understand as a tear slips down your cheek unbidden. He softens for a moment, a dozen different thoughts flashing across his readable face. He gently wipes your tear with his thumb and presses a kiss to your cheek where it fell. Then he nods once, as if making up his mind about something. He releases you, grabbing your wrist again, practically dragging you over to the big, comfy chair at the edge of the living room. You go rather willingly, unsure of what his plan is. His other hand settles on the back of your neck, gently, as he starts to push you down over the back of the chair. You suddenly understand that something you have no control over is about to happen and you start to fight him again. But he keeps a firm grasp on your wrist as he keeps pushing your head down until you are bent almost in two over the back of the chair. If his iron grip on you didn’t entirely prevent you from moving, his strong, lean body standing behind you and pressing you into the chair does.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you down.” His voice in your ear is breathy, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Don’t think I won’t, honey. You’ve been ornery all day and you don’t get a say in what happens now, ya hear me? Just remember, this is for your own good. And I love you.” You stop moving, knowing he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to see this through. He releases his grip on you and steps to the side, his left arm settling heavily across your back to hold you down as he rucks your short dress up around your hips. You feel him run a hand across your round ass, cupping it and squeezing softly. You hear what can only be described as a delighted breath escaping his lips behind you, the soft huff of a chuckle, his ribcage expanding against your arm as he breathes deeply. The pressure as he grips your ass gets harder and harder before he suddenly stops and his cool fingers toy with the edge of your panties around your waist before he unceremoniously yanks them down to your ankles.

“Last chance, baby,” he says through gritted teeth, his tone stern as he pins you to the chair. You start to squirm again, panic rising in your chest. He’s about to spank you. He…he’s never done that before. Not even for fun. Your body starts to tremble and you shake your head, refusing to speak. You feel him raise his right hand and a ghost of a breeze whispers across your bare bottom. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, your heart banging painfully in your chest, preparing as best you know how. You haven’t been spanked since you were a little girl and there’s something wrong, and slightly exciting, about it.

He delivers the first slap to your bottom with a firm, open palm, the impact of it echoing throughout the living room, the only other noise that can be heard is the ticking of a clock, your gasp and Elvis’s heavy breathing. You inhale sharply at the sting of it, but it isn’t as terrible as you were expecting and it dissipates quickly. You let out the breath you’d been holding, if this is all it is you can handle it. All is quiet and still behind you, and you wonder if that’s it…until you feel him lean down to speak in your ear again.

“That was just a warm up, little girl, ain’t gonna go that easy on ya for the rest of ‘em,” he murmurs, and you hear the love in his stern voice as you try and process what he’s saying. The rest of them? That was going easy? You start to wiggle, trying to break free once again and realize the whimpering noise filling the room is coming from your mouth. Before you can get too worked up he swats you again, twice in quick succession, a little harder than before.

“Ow!” you yell, incensed by your situation, kicking your feet a little. “That hurt!” You spit out through gritted teeth, angry now. “Elvis Aaron Presley, you let me go this instant!” Your demands are met with an amused laugh, and you let out a frustrated growl, trying and failing to twist out of his grasp.

“I see I haven’t sorted you out yet, honey. Still got some of that brattiness left in ya that needs to be broken. Your choice, little girl.” Elvis lets a small laugh slip, his eyes on your body as he slowly and deliberately brings his hand down on your ass again. It’s strong and forceful, but not cruel. It leaves you breathless, speechless. Finally the stinging has permeated your skin and refuses to leave. It’s starting to be uncomfortable and you can tell that if he doesn’t quit soon you’re going to have a hard time sitting tomorrow.

“You’ve been petulant, rude, acting like a damn child all day. And that’s not the woman I know and love, the woman I married. No wife of mine is gonna act that like that and get away with it - not to my friends, not to my father, and especially not to me. Do you understand?” His hand gently cups you as he lectures, rubbing softly over what must be your quickly reddening ass. You hiss and grip the the pillow in front of you. “Answer me, girl. Do you understand?”

You’re not done pouting…if he thinks he can break you, sort you out, punish you - let him try. You stay willfully silent, refusing to speak. You hear him sigh as he removes his hand from you and you brace yourself for another round.

“Have it your way, darlin’…I’m gonna give you six more and if you’re still in a state, then we’re gonna have to have a serious talk, you and me," Elvis says, suddenly quiet and solemn and your heart drops in your chest. Maybe this isn’t some game he’s playing? You didn’t realize it was as important as he’s now letting on. You know you were a total bitch today and you do regret your words and actions… You cry out as he spanks you again without warning, his palm landing with more force than he’s given you so far. He continues and the spanking is relentless, but there's also something almost hypnotic about it. It feels like his hand is on your skin forever, but before you know it, it's almost over. And unexpectedly you realize the last couple of swats have sent lightening straight to your core, your nipples are tight buds rubbing deliciously against the coarse fabric of the chair through your thin dress and you’re surprised to feel slickness gathering on your thighs. You don’t know when your cries turned to breathy moans but he stops abruptly as he hears you, still two spankings left to give.

You’re breathing heavily, still clutching the decorative pillow adorning the chair as you clench around nothing, surprising yourself and Elvis as an obscene squelching noise echoes across the now quiet living room. You let out a breathless laugh, flushing a deep red, thankful he can’t see the embarrassment written across your face. You feel Elvis laughing silently as well, quiet little snorts as he tries and fails to keep from giggling.

“Well now, this is a development I wasn’t expecting,” he murmurs in your ear, leaning over you, his warm breath floating across your cheek. You turn your face towards his, your glassy eyes trying to focus on him as you blink slowly. “Now that it seems I’ve sorted you out, what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t also take care of my baby?” His right hand squeezes your bottom lightly as his left arm finally releases you and his hand slips underneath your hips, his long, cool fingers gently sliding up your soaking folds. Your breath hitches at his touch, letting out a whimper as he reaches your aching clit, circling it deftly with calloused fingers, once, twice, before dipping two of them into your wet heat.

“Goddamn, mama, so needy for me? Maybe I oughta spank ya more often,” he says breathlessly, his voice taut with desire. You know your husband well - it’s the way he sounds when his cock is hard and straining against his pants, aching to be set free. He’s probably already starting to leak, you think dimly, and the thought has you fluttering around him.

“Oh…” you manage to breathe out as he starts to pump his fingers into you agonizingly slow, his thumb finding your clit and applying light pressure. You rock your hips, already so close to the edge you can almost taste it. His right hand smacks your ass hard and you jolt forward, the feeling of his fingers inside you and his punishing hand on your backside has you starting to whine, unable to stop. He speeds up the movement of his hand, curling his digits just so into that sensitive and spongy part of you just as he delivers the final slap to your ass that has you clenching tightly around his fingers nestled inside you, coming harder than you have in a while, your high-pitched whine turning silent as you stop breathing for a moment. He groans above you and you feel him shaking slightly as he bends over your body - you know it’s taking everything in him to hold it together. After a few moments, he slowly releases you, helping you stand and your legs immediately buckle underneath you. Elvis grabs you under your arms to try and keep you from falling but you’re both so weak with spent energy and desire - yours fulfilled, his aching - that you both tumble to the ground in a heap.

"There. All sorted out, sweetheart?" Elvis smiles down at you as your head rests against his shoulder, his arm encircling your waist. His voice is rough but tender as he smoothes the hair back from your face. "How did daddy do?" he asks, a smirk pulling his lush lips up into a lopsided grin. You blink dazedly, trying to form a coherent thought.

“Daddy?” you finally say, rolling the unfamiliar word around on your tongue. “Hmm, I could get used to that, I think.” You smile softly as your hand reaches up to cup his face, your thumb brushing the scratchy stubble across his jaw as your eyes turn serious. “I am sorry, Elvis. For all of it,” you whisper, blinking back tears.

“Shh, little one, I know,” he says, kissing your forehead softly and pulling you closer into himself, cradling you on his chest as your hand nestles in his chest hair, right above his heart that beats only for you.

And at book club the next day, when you’re settled on a mountain of pillows, no one even bats an eye.

-

Tags - I don’t have a general tag list so I’m just tagging some lovies who have enjoyed my previous fics: @jelliedonut @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @butlersxbirdy @missmaywemeetagain @headfullofpresley @powerofelvis @notstefaniepresley @amydarcimarie @prompted-wordsmith @dkayfixates @sillybookmarks @melancholicbutterflies @thatbanditqueen @eliseinmemphis @godlypresley @ccab @richardslady121 @rjmartin11 @claire-elvisgirl @literally-just-elvis-fics

[missaengg]

A Promise for a Kiss

Characters: Jude Jazza x F!Reader Tags: Fluff and Humor, One Shot, Kissing Word Count: 2297 Note: Inspired by Jude's Secret in the My Wicked Little Secret Event and of course, Jude's O_O face.

You discover through a chance encounter that Jude has weak lungs. But... how do you get him to quit smoking!?

ao3 link here.

You didn’t mean to overhear Jude and Roger that day in Roger’s infirmary. You were down there because you had burned yourself while baking scones for tea and wanted to dress the burn before it became infected.

Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls as they came down the stairs, the sound overshadowed by Jude’s dry hacking coughs. He was hunched over, chest heaving as coughs racked his body, struggling to breathe between fits with ragged breaths.

“Tch… Give it to me already,” Jude rasped, his voice strained from the friction and lack of air.

“Talk about a bad temper. You sound like someone demanding a beer at the pub.” Roger taunted the irate man next to him, amusement dancing in his eyes when he noticed you standing by the bookshelf. “Oh hey, lil lady. You hurt?”

You startled, feeling like you had just been caught red-handed with your hand in a cookie jar at Jude’s piercing stare, though you knew you had done nothing wrong. “Ah, yes. Sorry, I borrowed some ointment from you.” You motioned to the jar on the desk before you and your arm that was half-bandaged at this point.

While you continued to wrap the bandage and secure it into place, you noticed Roger reach into a cabinet where he pulled out an unlabeled bottle along with a syringe. Jude glared at the former doctor, but quickly rolled up his sleeve exposing his upper arm as coughs continued to violently seize his body. Your mouth dropped open at the sight of Roger roughly stabbing the syringe into Jude’s arm without any warning, who closed his eyes and sighed in relief without a single retort as the coughing dissipated. 

“What kind of injection is that?” you couldn’t help, but ask, finding the whole scene before you bizarre.

“A dangerous drug that ain’t been clinically tested or approved,” Jude muttered rolling his sleeve back down, his voice hoarse. 

You blinked. You wondered if you heard him correctly. Did he just say a dangerous drug, a dangerous untested drug? 

Based on Crown’s stance on the illegal drug trade, you were fairly certain it was not an illegal drug of any kind. Nor did Jude seem to be the type who would dabble in such activities. Was it an experiment of Roger’s, then? But if that were the case, you highly doubted Jude would be such a willing participant to the point of demanding the injection himself.

Roger chuckled at your expression, ruffling your hair with his big hand, which you swatted away. “I like that suspicious look on your face.” He turned to Jude who glowered at the both of you from where he stood. “Aw, you have someone to worry about you. Good for you, Jude."

Jude narrowed his eyes at Roger as if he were telling him to ‘watch it’, but said nothing, instead choosing to adjust his long coat that had fallen askew during his fit.

Roger snorted derisively before turning back to you. You couldn’t help, but think he may be having too much fun poking at Judes ire. “I’ve tried all kinds of things, and this is the most effective way to manage his symptoms.”

Symptoms? You felt your heart lurch at the word. You bit your lip, brows wrinkling at the thought of Jude being ill. Not that you would admit you were worried, though you weren’t sure why you would be worried about him in the first place.

“Symptoms? Is he ill?” You kept your voice light, but it tumbled out at a higher pitch than normal. You glanced at Jude whose attention was on the floor with his arms crossed, back against the wall. During your time at Crown, you had experienced Jude’s sharp tongue both directly and indirectly, and his silence was deafening to the point you wondered if he was even listening.

“They’re better now with treatment, but his lungs used to be real weak.” 

Oh. You snuck a glance at Jude, but couldn’t picture him as weak in any manner despite having witnessed his coughing just moments before. Your heart throbbed at this new revelation.

Jude raised his eyes to meet yours, something flashing in his eyes before scowling at Roger, confirming that he had indeed been following the conversation. “Oi, ever hear ‘bout doctor-patient confidentiality?” Jude pushed himself off the wall, but faltered, swaying on his feet. “Ah, damnit. Dizzy spell’s comin’ on again. Ya gave me the wrong dose, didn’t ya?” he accused Roger, taking in a sharp breath and slamming his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Roger replied with an air of nonchalance, shrugging at Jude, “Even if I did, the correct answer is still, I don’t know what the right one is, because I’m still gathering data from your body.”

You gaped at Roger’s admission. Not only was he treating Jude with a medicine that was being tested as it was being administered, he didn’t even know the correct dosage Jude needed. A chilling thought occurred to you sending a shiver down your spine. “Would Jude die if you injected him with too much?”

Roger contemplated the question for a second before bursting into hearty laughter. “Maybe!”

You continued to gape at the guffawing man in stunned silence. You couldn’t understand, for the life of you, how he remained so unbothered at the idea that he might accidentally kill his patient because he didn’t have enough data. Surely, Jude himself would be concerned at the insanity of the current situation, but when you looked to Jude, he also appeared nonplussed, though slightly irritated and much less amused than his counterpart, despite continuing to steady himself against the wall.

How were they both so damn calm about this?!

A few days later as you were passing by the parlor, you caught a glimpse of Jude smoking a cigarette and reading a book with a complicated-looking title in the large bay window.

You sighed. Roger had mentioned that he had weak lungs. Breathing in combusting paper and tobacco couldn’t possibly help. You approached the smoking man, who made no move to acknowledge your presence.

You paused, debating if he would snipe at you as he normally did, and if you were okay with that. “Is it okay for you to smoke?” you finally asked, strangely bothered at the sight of him having his cigarette.

Jude briefly glanced up at you, and then returned his attention to the book, ignoring you completely.

God, this man just had a way of annoying you, and yet knowing what you now knew about his lungs, you couldn’t help, but genuinely worry about him, fully knowing that you were wasting your time. You turned around to leave, but your heart began to throb once again, stopping you from walking away. Letting out a frustrated huff, you balled your hands into fists and turned back around to face him.

“I know in the past they thought smoking was good for you, but lately doctors are saying it can actually be harmful,” you stated, observing Jude for any indication he was listening, of which there was none. Internally, you fumed at his silence, but you also felt a sliver of desperation, a need to get through his thick skull. “Since Roger is treating you, I thought maybe–”

“Not a treatment, is it? It’s an experiment,” Jude commented.

You blinked at his interruption. Technically, that was true. You watched as Jude brought the half-burned cigarette to his lips, taking in a long drag and listlessly exhaling a puff of smoke while continuing to keep his eyes on his book. His long fingers tapped the ash into the ashtray next to him. There were six cigarette butts in a pile of ash in the tray. Just how many had he smoked in one sitting over how many hours?

Truth be told, you didn’t know Jude well. In fact, you only knew three things about the man. One, that he loved money. Two, that he loved other people’s misery, the sadistic prick. Three, that he was always sarcastic. And now, with this new information, you knew four, that he had weak lungs which required experimental treatment.

However, today, Jude seemed to have lost his usual edge, and he looked exhausted. Your heart clenched. This was not the man you had come to know during your time in Crown, and you loathed that it worried you… greatly.

“If ya keep starin’ like that, ya might burn a hole right through me,” Jude mumbled.

His words were missing their usual punch, and it threw you off-balance. You clasped your hands together scrutinizing Jude’s uninterested profile. If he wasn’t going to be forthright with what was ailing him, you would have to drag it out of him.

“Are you busy with work?” you asked. 

It had been a great surprise to you to learn that Jude was actually quite intelligent when you discovered him reading various books on complex topics in the library. According to Victor, Jude not only ran a trading company, but was also trying to branch out into the financial sector. Occasionally, he and Ellis would go out to collect debts directly themselves, and on top of running essentially two businesses, he also participated in missions for Crown.

No wonder he was so tired.

“None of your business,” Jude snapped.

You noted the dark bags under his eyes and the dull sheen of his skin. “Are you not getting enough sleep?”

“That ain’t none of your business neither.”

His reply had some bite, but his usual sharp voice was still slightly hoarse. While he wasn’t currently coughing, you wondered if he was still coughing occasionally in private, and if warm honey lemon tea might soothe his throat. On that note, you realized you didn’t know if Jude liked honey. You couldn’t recall if he had ever reached for the honey pot during meals.

“You sound rough. It really might be better to stop smoking.” This time when you shared the sentiment, your voice was much softer, and you winced, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the gentle concern.

“Tch…” Jude finally moved from his position. He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, and making eye contact with you, his eyes blazing with a strong emotion you couldn’t identify, he reached over to grab your chin. “I’ll quit if ya kiss me instead.”

Your mind went blank. “What?” was all you could muster at his question, and you internally cursed as a warm flush began creeping up your neck and then your face. His face was unnervingly close, and you could smell the cigarette on his breath, which you were surprised to find wasn’t unpleasant coming from him. His merciless glare bore into you. You held your breath, overwhelmed by his scent of cigarette smoke and spice, the heat radiating off of his body, and the intensity of his stare.

Jude narrowed his eyes, then quickly let go of you like a child who had tired of playing with his toy.

“Not my fault if ya dunno how to take a joke,” he muttered.

You let out the breath you had been holding, rubbing where Jude’s hands had been, still burning from his lingering touch. You berated yourself for worrying about him. Of course he was just fine. What had you been so worried about? Yet, a dull ache settled in your chest.

“Couldn’t die even if I wanted to ‘cuz of that shit promise anyway. Like hell are some damn cigs gonna do me in.”

You heard Jude grumble to himself under his breath, piquing your curiosity. “What promise?” you asked without thinking.

“Tch…” Jude grimaced, realizing that he had expressed his thoughts out loud. “Got nothin’ to do with ya, does it? Forget it.” You furrowed your brows. To whom did he make a promise? Did he mean the promise he made with Ellis, or was there another promise that you hadn’t heard about? And what did he mean, he couldn’t die even if he wanted to? 

The questions swirled around in your brain. Despite the sting of Jude’s sharp sarcasm, the desire to learn more about this man smoldered deep within you, but he would have to remain alive in order for you to continue learning about him. Chewing on the inside of your bottom lip, you slowly came to a conclusion, the only conclusion. He would have to quit smoking.

You grabbed Jude by the collar, dragging him down until his face was almost level with yours. Closing the rest of the height difference by standing on your toes, you pressed your lips to his. 

His lips were thin, but surprisingly soft and warm. He parted his lips in surprise, and you took advantage of the opening to deepen the kiss, tasting the cigarette smoke still left in his mouth on your tongue. You pressed into him, dizzy from his firm body against yours. For a moment you wondered how it would feel to run your hands over his lean, muscular body.

You pulled away, softly panting to catch your breath, releasing his crumpled shirt from your hands. Jude’s purple eyes looked down at you, open wide, his mouth agape.

“You said you’d quit if I kissed you,” you breathlessly murmured. You beamed at him, lips curving upwards into a cheeky grin. “Now you have one more promise to keep.”

You softly pressed your lips to his again, once more for good measure, to ensure he would keep his promise and not for any other reason, of course, and then promptly spun around on your heel, exiting the parlor.

There were many questions you wanted to ask Jude. He would just have to stay alive and healthy until he could answer all of them.

[bullet-prooflove]

Sugar Cookie: Will Trent x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @cassiopeiablog @kmc1989

Companion piece to Father

Will’s redecorating the living room when you turn up at his door. It’s something he does when his world’s in disarray and his life right now, it feels like it’s falling apart. When he sees you standing on his porch, his heart just breaks because he’s just as in love as he’s always been. The only difference is you aren’t his anymore.

“Can we talk?” You ask quietly, your fingertips toying with the slender silver watch on your wrist. He doesn’t speak, instead he steps back and opens up the door a little wider.

The truth is he doesn’t know what to say. There’s no magic wand that can fix this situation but there are thousand things that he can do to make it worse, and he doesn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already has.

“I like the colour.” You say gesturing towards the open paint tin and the roller tray.

“It’s called sugar cookie.” He informs you as he turns his attention back to the wall. It’s easier to focus on that than to look at you right now.

It’s when he hears the crinkle of plastic that he inclines his head in your direction. You’ve already unwrapped the second roller and are proceeding to dip it into the paint tray. He follows your example, picking up his own roller before he spreads the new colour onto the wall.

“My dad wasn’t a good person.” You say quietly after a couple of minutes of silence. “We weren’t speaking by the time you started your investigation. My mom had just petitioned for divorce. He’d gambled the house out from underneath her, it was the final straw.”

“His addiction is how it all started.” Will says, focusing on the task at hand. “He started losing big, owing favours, it’s a slippery slope.”

“I wasn’t around for the trial.” You tell him, the roller gripped tightly in your hand. “I was in Denver working a Fentanyl operation. I don’t know…”

Will sighs, pausing the motion of the roller. He knows what you’re asking, he also knows the damage it can do.

“It ain’t a pretty story sugar.” He says softly. “If I tell you about your daddy, you won’t ever be able to look at him the same way.”

“I haven’t spoken to my father for over two years.” You inform him, the roller creaks under you grasp as you exert more pressure than necessary. “I can’t see that changing because of what you’re about to tell me.”

He pauses for a moment, his lips pursing together as he stares at the wall. =

“When the case came across my desk, there were five officers I was assigned to focus on. Your daddy was one of them. He was suspected of guiding investigations in a certain direction, away from certain suspects.” Will resumes painting as he plays through the series of events in his head. “By the end of the investigation I had uncovered three others he’d been involved with including the rape and murder of a seventeen-year-old girl. The perp had been trying to send a message to her father about paying his debts and he didn’t realise she had a heart condition.”

You’ve stopped painting the wall. The roller hangs by your side, the paint dripping onto the plastic covering underneath your feet.

“The cases fell apart when key pieces of evidence disappeared from storage. I learned that your father was in deep to his bookie, he was trading favours in return for the reduction of his debt.”

“Did you catch him?” You ask, tossing the roller into the tray. “The person who hurt that girl?”

“Yea.” Will says, giving up the pretext of painting entirely as he turns to look at you. “Your daddy still had the evidence in his possession, he hadn’t had a chance to dispose of it.”

You lean back against the unpainted wall behind you before sliding down into a sitting a position. You knew your father had been arrested for corruption, there had been rumours of evidence tampering but you had no idea of the extent of it. That your father had been willing to let a young girl’s murder go free because he’d been so fucking selfish.

“You set a trap.” You summarise, the back of your head coming to rest against the wall.

“I did.” Will admits taking up residence beside you. His shoulder bumps against yours lightly and you lean in a little closer because there’s a comfort in this man, there always has been. “I did my job and now your daddy’s in jail because of it.”

He’s surprised when you take his hand, your fingers interlacing with his. Your thumb chases along the scar in the grove of his hand and he sighs at the sensation because he’s missed how good it feels when you touch him.

“My dad’s in jail because he tried to help his bookie cover up the murder of a kid.” You say quietly. “That’s on him.”

He shifts then, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, gathering you up against his comforting form. Your head comes to rest upon his chest as he cradles you close. He senses that you need this from him right now, the proximity, the connection. It’s a lot to hear, he knows that. He wants you to know he’s here for you no matter what happens between the two of you.

He can feel your tears dampening the front of his t-shirt, but he knows there’s a catharsis in the grief. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, but you’ve borne this burden alone for far too long. He can’t imagine what it must have been like to carry it, to keep it locked up inside, knowing if you dared speak about it, you’d be tarred with the same brush.

“This doesn’t change anything for me.” He reassures you, his thumb brushing over your cheek, chasing away the tears. You’re still the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. He knows you always will be because when he looks at you, he doesn’t see the physicality, he sees the real you, the person you are underneath everything else. “It doesn’t matter that you changed your name or who your father is. You’re still the woman I fell in love with, the one I’ll always love.”

Love Will? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dear sir, I must use your inbox as a confession booth once again, because you're the only person I've seen express negative feelings about that stupid ass firefighter show, and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but… I am so tired of those bland white boys in that stupid firefighter show… I'm happy for the fans that got that character confirmed gay, but it's… it's like the blandness/lack of anything compelling of d/estiel, but somehow more bland, because they're not even in a monster hunting show. I don't even see the love interest(s) to the confirmed gay character, just that guy getting the "2013 pure cinnamon roll" treatment that castiel got. I've tried blacklisting several combinations, but half the posts I see aren't tagged at all 💀

Okay I think that's all, thank you for letting me complain in your inbox <3

IM SO TIRED OF SEEING THOSE BORING FIREFIGHTERS GET THEM OFF MY DASH I DONT CARE ABOUT THEM. good for gay people or whatever but i dont CARE. GET THEM AWAY FROM ME. just because gay representation in boring procedural tv shows is a good sign for the overall climate of queer acceptance doesn’t mean im obligated to like the fuckers. GO AWAY. I ONLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT GAY PEOPLE WHO WANT TO EAT EACH OTHER. ARE THE FIREFIGHTERS HAVING GAY CANNIBALISTIC FANTASIES ABOUT EACH OTHER? NO? THEN I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!!!! EVERY GAY COUPLE ON TV THAT DOESN’T TRY TO MURDER EACH OTHER IS ANOTHER SETBACK FOR GAY RIGHTS.

alsjfkgjskdj but yeah god it is impossible to blacklist that freaking show, ain’t it. annoying as hell. i’ve mostly gotten it off my dash, and i only have like one mutual i think who likes it? and she’s allowed. i forgive her because i know she has good taste in other things. this insanity will pass for her <3

(also the destiel comparison is apt because. you know how people used to talk about the “roaming yaoi fandom” that just latches onto whatever two men are most popular at the time, forces them into the cookie cutter mold of a romantic relationship, and ships them to death? now, i don’t know about the validity of that theory on a wider scale, but it sure does feel like a lot of people who wanted destiel to be that cookie-cutter romantic relationship are happily jumping to the gay firefighters because they’re easier to fit to the mold. and presumably carry less baggage than all the stuff that supernatural does. which is hilariously honest to me about why some people cared about destiel in the first place.)

[georgiesblurredbones]

INTRO POST !!!

-Note For Users With ‘DNI Minors’: I Am a Minor(RGEFDHSGSH MINERSSSS😡😡/Ref), I Am Below The Age of 17(Obviously)-

This User Kins Blurr !!

This User Kins Starscream !!

Hello !! I Am Georgie/George/Bones/Drift/Fresh/Kaz/Kazzie/Blurr/Blurre (Whatevr U Wanna Call Me :333 !!!)

I Go By All Pronouns But I Prefer They/Them/She/Her/Day/Dayself/Bones/Bonself, But He/It Is Okay :33

Other Blogs:

Fictionkin Regression: @little-bonesy

Regretevator Ask Blog: @cuboid-asks (No Longer Active Bc No Longer Friends💔)(Maybe Active In The Future ? Idk🎀)

More Info In The Links !!

I MADE A POORLY DONE STRAWPAGE !!

Interest List(Active Interests In (Pink): Nokori(Roblox), HTTYD, The Days Union(Roblox Myth), Regretevator(Roblox), Sofia The First, Peter Pan(1953 Film), Pressure(Roblox), Undertale(And AU’s), Deltarune, Glaggleland, Jim’s Computer(Roblox), Cuphead(Game And Show), Amulet(Book Series), Flamingo(YouTuber), FNAF (Only Security Breach + Ruin), Cookie Run: Kingdom, Demon Slayer, Mouthwashing, Transformers RiD(2015), Transformers Rescue Bots, Transformers Animated, Transformers Earthspark, Transformers Armada, Transformers One(2024 Film), Encanto, Hello Neighbour, Baldi’s Basics(Don’t Jump Me I Beg💀)

Extra Things!!: I Capitalize The Start of Most Words. I Have Trouble With Online Tones So Please Use Tone Tags If U Can !! I Have a Severe Phobia of All Dogs(Idc If They’re ‘Harmless’, That Doesn’t Help Me). I Have Severe Social Anxiety And Likely Have ADHD And//or Am Mentally Disabled In Some Way So If You Wanna Talk/Be Chatting Moots PLEASE TALK 2 ME FIRST /srs. I Kin a Lot of Characters 2 The Point That I Literally Have The Mental State of One of Them When I’m Regressed, Idk If That Counts As Being a FictionKin But I’m Gonna Just Use That Label For Simplicity :p. I’m a Non-Practicing Inuit-Mi’Kmaq(Indigenous), Canadian And I’m Part Indian !! Pls Do Not Come On My Blog Just To Insult My Gender Identity And Sexuality Bc It ‘Doesn’t Make Sense’, Go Find Smth Better 2 Do🫶

My Account Will Feature: Drawn Blood, Mild Horror, Paranoia Posts, Vents, Swearing, Occasional Free Palestine Posts, School//Family Stuff, Friend Posts, Sexual Jokes, Detransition Mentions, Spoilers For So Many Things It Ain’t Funny, Gay Ppl /j

DNI’s: Proshippers/Problematic Comshippers/Darkshippers/Etc, Pedos, Homophobes, Xenophobes, Transphobes, Pro Israel Accounts, Anti Furs, Anti Therians, Anti Alterhumans, Completely NSFW Blogs, Anti Indigenous Ppl, Anti Neo Pronouns, Anti Xenogender And Racists!! (+ Earthspark MegaStar Shippers That Think That Ver of The Ship Is Not Toxic, But It Kinda Is Bc of Starscream’s PTSD, ES Megs Is Amazing And I Love Him But They Just Aren’t Healthy At All /Srs)

Silly Little GIF’s Bc Why Not🤑🤑

[leechjuice]

oc in fifteen — tag game

thanks for the tag, @sidhewrites!!! i love a good excuse to share some dialogue; even in my screenwriting classes, it was always my favourite part.

rules: include 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an oc that describes their essence—you may include context, but the less the better.

here's THE MAGNOLIA CLUB's tragic deuteragonist, JERALDINE, in thirteen lines.

don't be fake. god's probably doggy-paddling through your misery.

smart cookie, midge. all the more blood for you.

you ain’t special just ‘cause some preacherman a few towns over likes little girls that look like you, and you felt like writin’ on it instead of prayin’ like daddy told you to.

oh, enough with the metaphors. elsie's cooked; we had a hot summer. give it a break.

lots of obnoxious little piggies in this town that could do with a good poke.

give Art enough time to grow balls an’ a beard, then maybe i’ll start cold shoulderin’ him, too.

fuck you. find yourself a heart, and don’t eat it this time.

it's our fault. somehow, i know it is. 'cause we're dropping like flies.

not your first priest. won't even be the last, i bet.

they thought i was a wasp, and all they wanted to do was light me on fire.

ah. you’re gonna go home and put my name in your little journal. and you’ll still be the only one who gives a shit.

i was terrified you were gonna be just like me, but you’re worse. you’re a ghost. you’re just a dead girl who doesn’t know she’s dead.

there’s nothing left but this. there’ll never be anything else, ever again, that isn’t poisoned by this.

i'm passing this tag to @cruelflesh and anybody else who'd like to join!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  LINES OF YOUR HANDS

SUMMARY : dean tries being seductive in a Santa suit… and it works, surprisingly. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, on the kitchen table, Santa suit kink, nude photography, breeding kink, jerking off, cum play

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — (Santa) suit kink and nude photography. this was cute to me, idk ‘bout y’all, like yeah, the sex, but Dean’s so cute in my imagination (and in the show). had clara oswald and danny pink in mind for this one, lmao XXX

“Merry Christmas, my love!” Dean exclaimed from the doorway of the kitchen. His girlfriend turned around, distractedly biting off the arm of a gingerbread man. 

“You could’ve at least picked something sexy,” she snorted, turning away from him to bite the other arm of her gingerbread man. Dean pouted and made his way to her unenthusiastically. 

“Well, guess what I’m wearing underneath,” he proposed excitedly with his hands on his hips. She didn’t turn around to look at him this time. 

“Uh… your Scooby-Doo boxers?” She asked, grinning at the space in front of her before taking a bite of a gingerbread cookie’s leg. She knew that would make Dean whine more. “One of the hundred of black t-shirts you own, and uh… those ‘send noods’ socks, my fave,” she continued with a dreamy laugh. Dean sputtered. 

“No,” he pouted adorably. She shrugged, mouth full, drinking warm coconut milk to help the cookie go down. Defeated, Dean’s frown deepened. “Nothing,” he whined, then stomped over to her, hoping she’d look at him. “Come on, admit it’s sexy,” he smiled cheekily, sitting on the table next to the small plate with crumbs and a gingerbread man that no longer had arms and legs. 

She sighed playfully and then leaned back, eyes trailing from the top of his cute head to the bottom of his hot legs. She checked him out once more, contemplating his appearance: she stared at his thighs, the tent in the red, fluffy trousers, the tightness of the suit on him, the little bit of skin showing at his neck, the floppy red and white hat on top of his head.

She tried to give him what he wanted, to see the sexiness in his costume. But… she couldn’t help it, she smiled brightly at him. He was too damn adorable. 

“Oh, come on!” He whined, then hastily undid the black belt around his waist, letting the coat fall open. She held her breath as she watched him, her eyes glued to his taut, hot body, and his warm, freckled skin. He bit his lip, and pulled his pants down to release his cock, and slowly started to jerk himself off. 

That did it for her. Her stomach flipped and her pussy clenched, warmth spread over her face, her stomach, her cunt. She released a shaky breath as a wave of dampness ruined her underwear almost instantly. 

Squeezing her thighs, she fumbled and checked her pockets for her phone to take a picture. Maybe a lot more than one. This was so hot and definitely worth being kept in the hidden photo album of explicit photos and videos of her and Dean. 

When he saw it in her hands, he stopped touching himself and reached for the phone, but she snatched it away before he could snatch it away.

“Hey!” He complained. He thought she was going to ignore him and scroll through her phone instead.

“Shut up,” she grunted, which made his mouth shut instantly, “I’m trying to eat my gingerbread man and you want to seduce me… now deal with the fact that it worked.”

“You’re torturing the little man,” he stared down at the gingerbread man with an exaggerated frown. “But, hey, I ain’t complainin’ if you wanna take a few videos of me right now,” he grinned, going right back at it. “Did ya name him?” He asked, running his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock. 

“Patrick,” she laughed softly, then stood up to find the perfect angle. It didn’t matter though, he looked good from all angles. She snapped a photo, kept tapping and tapping the red button to get as many as she could. Data storage be damned. 

“Want some more frosting on Patrick?” He jested, but she was actually contemplating his offer. He cursed softly and watched her with hooded eyes. 

She leaned down to collect the beads of precum at his tip with her tongue which made his body tense up, a loud moan erupting from his throat. She reached over and took a bite of her cookie, mixing the sweet and tangy flavour of her two favourite things. “Yummy,” she snickered, staring straight at Dean. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, licking his lips. 

“Maybe when you’ve got another load, you’re cumming inside me first.” She pushed her cup and the headless cookie to the far end of the table, close to the wall. “Fuck, actually… should I take a picture of you cumming on your hand first?” She stopped in the middle of lifting her shirt up, staring at him as he slowed the pace of his movements to stop his orgasm. 

“No, later,” he decided for her, “please, get up here and ride me.” He begged, then shifted on the table to lie on his back, aware of the plate and cup she pushed against the wall when he placed the Santa hat with them. She snickered and lifted the top over her head. She wore no bra this morning and the sight of her  breasts made him moan softly. 

“Comfortable?” She asked, kicking her slippers off and then slid her leggings and underwear down in one swift pull. 

“Just get up here,” he told her impatiently, reaching down to tug at his balls instead of jerking himself off. She laughed again and did as he asked. She climbed up the chair, made her way onto the table, and then sat on his lap, taking his hard cock in her hand. 

“How are you making this work?” She teased, biting her lip, slowly stroking from base to tip. He instantly grabbed her hips, his red lips parted to release quick breaths as he brought her forward over his erect cock.

He shrugged, biting his lip and smiling cutely. “Please,” he begged again, urging her to take him. She playfully, teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, and stared down at him mischievously.

“Sam’s gonna get mad that we fucked on the table.” He knew she was stalling on purpose, getting him riled up. Her intentions were clearer when she reached for her phone again, and took a couple photos of his cock in her hand. 

She stopped stroking his cock to focus on taking more photos. It frustrated him and he groaned, reaching between her legs. While she treated him like a sex model, leaning back in his lap to capture him at the best angle with her phone, he separated her folds and brushed his thumb against her clit. 

His cock twitched when he brought two of his fingers to her entrance and an insane amount of slick met his fingertips. “Wow, it’s really workin’,” he chuckled, smiling up at her smugly. She rolled her eyes, lips parting when he pushed two fingers into her, meeting no resistance. “Please tell me you’re done, I wanna be inside you and feel all of this… wrapped around my dick,” he mumbled, pushing a third finger into her, then spread them apart inside her. 

“Oh… fuck, Dean!” She moaned in surprise. Her phone tumbled out of her hand and rattled on the floor, but it didn’t break. She slammed both hands on his chest as her thighs shook on either side of his body as his fingers curled against the front of her walls. 

“It’s Santa now,” he teased, pulling his soaked fingers out of her fluttering pussy to wrap it around his cock. She barely composed herself when he bucked his hips upwards, thrusting his cock into her swiftly. 

She cried out again and buried her face into his neck, making a tight fist with both hands clenching around the red and white Santa jacket he wore. She moaned softly when he rolled his hips gently, soothing the amazing stretch of her cunt around him. 

“Shit.. that was way too easy, babe,” he gasped, giving her ass a gentle swat. “You okay?” He murmured, kissing her temple. She nodded, her pussy fluttering needily around his cock. “Well…” he paused for a moment, reaching up to move her hair to one side, then lifted her mouth up to his. “What do you want for Christmas, sweetheart?” He mumbled against her lips, giving her a few loving pecks. 

She kissed him lewdly, licking across his sugary lips and into his minty mouth with a hum. With a smirk, she replied, “a baby.” 

His grip on her hair tightened and his cock twitched inside her. He pulled her off him with a sharp tug of her hair and stared at her face, stunned and aroused. “Don’t ask for something if you’re not serious about it…” he murmured, planting his black-leather-boot clad feet on the table.

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” She asked, placing her arm beside his head and laying her palm flat over his toned stomach. 

“That shit-eating grin on your fuckable face.” Before she could get out a reply, Dean began to piston his hips up into her, clasping both hands on her hips roughly to keep her from moving. 

With a surprised moan she pressed her forehead into her arm and wrapped her hand around one of Dean’s wrists, above his watch. 

She panted heavily into his ear, occasionally moaning encouragements that made him fuck her harder. Her clit slapped delightfully against his pelvis with each thrust and upward grind. He focused on chasing her pleasure more than his own, angling her hips so he could press his cock into the front of her pussy, brushing repeatedly over her sweet spots. 

“You want a baby?” He asked breathlessly, cock throbbing inside her velvety walls. He could feel her getting as close to her orgasm as he was, and continued to grind up against her after every thrust to stimulate her clit. “I’ll give you a baby,” he growled, latching his lips to her pulse. 

With a sharp thrust and a hard bite, he came inside her with a grunt of her name against her neck. Hot cum pooled inside her and triggered her own orgasm. With a shuddering moan of Dean’s name, she took Dean's face lovingly into her hands and kissed him as he helped her ride out her orgasm. 

Her kiss-swollen lips moved across his jaw, down his flushed neck and chest as they attempted to catch their breaths. Dean pulled her closer, his warm hands squeezing his favourite parts of her body that he could reach. Barely having caught their breaths, he mumbled, “I believe you need to let me eat your cookie now that I’ve delivered your gift. Santa’s gotta get a reward,” against her flushed cheek.

She moved away from his mouth and lifted a brow at the playful grin he gave her. “Do not call my vagina a cookie ever again,” she giggled, pushing up off his chest. Except he pulled her back down with his fingers around the back of her neck to peck her lips, once, then twice.

“Babe, please, I’m trying to be in the Christmas spirit,” he reasoned playfully with a nod, dimples on display with his puckered lips. He slid his hands down the curve of her back and stopped just shy of her ass, calloused hands caressing her soft skin.

She eyed him suspiciously and then dropped a lingering kiss on his forehead for cuteness. “Okay, I’ll let it slide… this time,” she smiled, then dropped doting kisses over his cheeks and nose. 

“Right, but you have no problem with me referring to myself as Santa, hmm?” He muttered, feigning disappointment. Mischievously, she stopped her kisses before she could get to his mouth, hovering over his lips after kissing the corner of his mouth. 

She pulled away as he waited for her kiss with a very subtle pucker of his lips and then, he had the audacity to pout again. “Be happy that I fucked you in this ridiculous costume at all,” she frowned, but her bright and amused eyes betrayed her serious face. 

“This costume is not ridiculous, okay? You’re ridiculous…” he scoffed, moving his hands away from her hips to cross them over his chest defensively.

She bit back a smile and slid off his soft dick, which made him reach out for her to return with his lips parted to ask her to come back. Instead, she took his hands to balance herself as she climbed off the table and took her phone off the floor, his cum already starting to dribble out of her pussy.

She squeezed her legs together as she unlocked her cellphone to study the photos she took of Dean. “I’m gonna get these framed… or.. I’m making my own porn magazine with photos of you naked.. yeah, that’s a great idea,” she spoke to herself thoughtfully. 

Dean blindly grabbed for the Santa hat, lifted his pants up, and slid off the table to wrap his arms around his naked girlfriend. He put the hat back on and dropped his chin on her shoulder to gaze at her phone.  

“Only if you do the same for me,” he proposed bashfully, then slowly started moving his hands down between her legs. She smiled and parted her legs for him, but she didn’t expect him to send a slap over her sensitive clit.

He must have expected her reaction because he released her immediately and backed away when she jumped with a shout and turned to face him swiftly. She glared at him and walked towards him until the metal counter hit his back. 

He licked his lip, trying to lean casually against the counter with his green eyes shining bright like shiny ornaments on a Christmas tree. He swallowed excitedly and smiled at her flirtatiously—that stupid smile he gave women when he tried picking them up or to get information out of them. 

“I’m tying you up with the Christmas lights for that,” she threatened seductively, pressing herself up against his taut body. He bit his lip and carefully moved his hands to her ass to keep her close, then squeezed. 

“Really?” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[emmymaehereeeeee]

Saw the rare dad who helps daughter sell girl scout cookies today, now all i can think about is Lottie Mae joining the girls scouts.

-ahhh!!! He would so have that “dad stance” going on!! “Elvis honey, you’ve rearranged those boxes three times already- they are fine- I promise,” you reassured your husband as he fiddled with a box of cookies. “I just want to make sure that everything is perfect for her-“ “Elvis she’s five years old, this is a cookie sale…”

-would for sure walk up to people and direct them towards Lottie’s stand, “Hi- how ya doing, you see that cute lil girl over there? Yeah- ain’t she the cutest little thing? That’s my little girl Charlotte Mae and she’s trying to sell some of her um Girl Scout cookies.”

-gets way more excited whenever she makes a sale

-“Okay, babydoll- they want three boxes of the Tag-Alongs and one box of Thin Mints, so how many boxes do they need?” He would hold up the number of boxes on his fingers and she would stare at him blankly then a smile would spread across her face, “SEVEN!” She would respond happily. “No not quite but you did a good job, little one. They need four boxes, four- one, two three four.” -if business got slow he would call up the M.M and have them come and buy some boxes, I mean they probably would have already bought some from her but it’s Lottie Mae who wouldn’t want to help her?

-“Now tell Uncle Jerry thank you.” -“Tank you Uncle Jerry.”

[skyguywrites]

Character Blog Tags !!!

(writing these down for myself bc i keep forgetting // will update sporadically)

AMELIA. (she’s a runner she’s a trackstar;)

Charlie: clarke the shark;

June: she used to be mine;

Louis: the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious;

Luke: just keep swimming;

🤍Maggie: h o t t o g o;

Ripley: letting our hearts light the way;

Rowan: tbd

Sam: workout wife;

Teddy: coach cutie;

AMIRA. (mugshot;)

🤍Killian: a mythical thing;

Goose: tbd

Hunter: you’re a real tough cookie;

Joey: tbd

Noah: i wanna guard your dreams and visions;

Ripley: tbd

Simon: kindness in a cup;

ANNIE. (i woke up like this;)

Bradley: because woke;

Dante: prince charming;

🤍Eli: daddy’s little protégé;

Jax: brother from another mother;

BILLY. (a face only a mother could love;)

Ariadne: my saving grace;

Harlow: prettier than poetry;

Levi: tbd

Rae: a little bit of sunshine;

Ripley: tbd

🤍Simon: sun on a cloudy day;

BONNIE. (the girl who waited;)

Ariadne: oh what a noble mind;

Jenson: flower power;

Maggie: dream girl;

Mary-Kate: you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts;

Missy: best girl in the world;

CASSIE. (the last human;)

Blair: the most important woman in the entire world;

Charlie: love is always wise;

Glenn: the big bad wolf;

🤍Jonah: safe hands;

Kasper; he’s a bit of a fixer upper;

Killian: the oncoming storm;

Laura: save the cheerleader save the world;

Louis: smooth talkin so rockin’;

Max: in amongst seven billion there’s someone like you;

Ty: stud muffin;

COLIN. (born to serve;)

Archer: mini me;

Ariadne; filthy little bookworm;

Carmen: tbd

Charlie: aquaman;

Missy: i’d let her fuck me with a racket;

Rachel: tbd

Ripley: let it rip;

Tanner: legs eleven;

Teddy: the bear;

🤍Ty: we understood each other completely;

DIEGO. (serving face;)

Band: kings and queens;

Chess: tbd

🤍Henry: the man the myth the legend;

Marley: she’s a real bad bitch;

Poppy: the best of me;

ELODIE. (hot girl summer;)

Charlie: sex bomb;

🤍Heath: we keep this love in a photograph;

Keeley: tbd

Lando: he was a skater boy;

Louis: l’âme d’un poète;

Luke: tall drink of water;

Maggie: she’s electric;

Ripley: i despise my jealous eyes;

Teddy: super boy;

Théo: built in bestie;

FLYNN. (superhuman good looks;)

Keeley: little red;

Noah: we all just wanna be big rockstars;

🤍Rae: you were my new dream;

Wardo: scholarly menace;

IVY. (a half empty girl;)

Chess: tbd

Henry: piano man;

Holly: tbd

Louis: public enemy number 1; // there will come a poet whose weapon is his word;

🤍Max: stud;

Raff: grumpy cat;

Wardo: partner in crime;

JASPER. (hungry like the woolf;)

🤍Ariadne: her heart did whisper;

Ben: and the truth is in the end i’m pretty useless without friends;

Henry: the soul is a piano with many strings;

Jax: you kiss by the book;

JESSIE. (nothin’ but sweatpants lookin’ like a princess;)

Louis: pretty boy;

🤍Marley: sugar and spice and all things nice;

Max: superstar;

KIAN. (wild rover;)

Charlie: same old charlie hitting the ground;

Cora: tiny dancer;

🤍Ezra: as long as you’re mine;

Davey: pain in my arse;

Luca: little bird;

Luke: tbd

Missy: she’s handsome she’s pretty;

Raff: misery loves company;

Rory: a sky full of stars;

MARCUS. (my gift is my song;)

Charlie: how wonderful life is while you’re in the world;

Dante: i saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent;

Henry: you’re sad and you’re sweet and i knew you complete;

🤍Jenson: rain will make the flowers grow;

Kennedy: she’s so lovely;

Maggie: tbd

Ripley: made for the movies;

MATTY. (vogue;)

🤍Chess: beauty queen;

Delaney: trophy wife;

Eli: sweet like summer;

Jax: got a ride that’s smoother than a limousine;

Maggie: queen of munchkinland;

MAVERICK. (southern belle;)

🤍Harlow: i am filled with calculust;

🤍Rafferty: in the midst of darkness light persists;

Simon: tbd

Wardo: sour patch kid;

MICAH. (aesthetic;)

Bradley: mister fantastic;

Chess: checkers;

🤍Joey: the ryan to my shane;

OLLY. (puppy dog eyes;)

Charlie: tbd

Dante: he’s so tall and handsome as hell;

Ezra: he ain’t heavy he’s my brother;

Harlow: cowboy casanova;

🤍Jude: what must it be like to grow up that beautiful;

Marianne: for forever;

Simon: your smile could light up new york city after dark;

Rae: raes in the sunne;

Teddy: tbd

PERSEPHONE. (look for the girl with the broken smile;)

🤍Bradley: daddy long legs;

Jax: lips like candy;

Levi: tbd

Maggie: nightmare dressed like a daydream;

Marley: a supernatural delight;

Ripley: riptide;

POPPY. (headshots;)

Band: you’re in the band;

Charlie: hey mr dj;

Chess: super mom;

Diego: god of rock and roll;

Henry: hope and happiness;

Joey: dodododo dodo; (the ghostbuster theme song)

Louis: you’re so golden;

Marley: i named both her eyes forever;

🤍Noah: heartbreak kid;

Rae: pocketful of sunshine;

SCOTTY. (insane with the hotness;)

Joey: if you need to darling lean your weight to me;

Laura: tbd

Louis: wretched and divine;

Max: tbd

🤍Sam: girl almighty;

THÉO. (l’artiste;)

Charlie: cheeky charlie;

Elodie: the other half of me;

🤍Hunter: sharpshooter;

Jax: father figure;

Keeley: my girl;

Lando: tear in my heart;

Louis: found family;

Teddy: tbd

VALENTINA. (my funny valentina;)

Ariadne: she keeps me warm;

Henry: music man;

Sylvie: baby bly;

🤍Teddy: lumiere darling;

ZAC. (the best of humanity;)

🤍Archer: love in all its forms is the most powerful weapon we have;

Eva: clever girl;

Delaney: i believe in her;

Matthias: you don’t expect a sunset to admire you back;

Melody: i’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important;

Missy: you were fantastic;

Rory: the last centurion;

Sylvie: marty mcbly;

————————————

ANGELICA. (prince of angels;)

Charlie: surfer babe;

Izzy: you shine like glitter and gold;

🤍Jamie: it’s like you’re drawing hearts around my name;

Jenson: mon trésor;

Jude: patch perfect;

Kasper: słoneczko; (sunshine)

Max: ice ice baby;

Ty: mi amor;

ART. (speed demon;)

Ace: ace of hearts;

🤍Goose: deep blue but you painted me golden;

Laura: rocket to my heart;

Pip: fuck me sideways;

Teddy: swim daddy;

Win: sexy mama;

CHRIS. (chris-py kreme;)

🤍Carmen: reese’s pieces peanut buttercup;

Charlie: charleston chew;

Dante: jollee rancher;

Izzy: bubblegum bestie;

Kasper: kitkasper;

Laura: timlin timbits;

Leo: tbd

DAVEY. (i’m a trust fund baby you can trust me;)

🤍Cora: princess;

Eli: lightning mcqueen;

Eva: all i wanted was you;

Kian: big brother is always watching;

Lando: pretty young thing;

Luca: the baby;

Ripley: good girl faith and a tight little skirt;

CANDICE. (blonde bimbo girl;)

🤍Forrest: i’ll be your lighthouse;

Jude: you are kenough;

Levi: playboy;

Thaniel: bless me father for i have sinned;

DAFF. (flower child;)

Heath: you got a friend in me;

Mac: ramblin’ man;

🤍Shep: thorn in my side;

Thaniel: take me to church;

DOLLY. (you’re lookin’ at country;)

Archer: loaded gun;

Harlow: i had the best day with you;

Hattie: your beauty is beyond compare;

Hunter: tall dark and superman;

Sloane: her hips don’t lie;

Travis: a good old slow talkin’ country boy;

ELLIE. (smile like you mean it;)

Charlie: you’re too sweet for me;

Cody: sweeter than heaven;

Glenn: funcle;

🤍Reid: to infinity and beyond;

FITZ. (me old mug;)

🤍June: she drives me wild;

Keeley: pocket sized;

Pip: twinkle toes;

Win: tbd

GABE. (game face;)

🤍Blair: it’s a rollercoaster kinda rush;

Max: golden boy;

Missy: fatal fantasies;

GEM. (little songbird;)

Archer: tbd

Carmen: tbd

Cora: let’s go down to the ozdust ballroom;

Eva: lookin’ super cute and freaky;

Izzy: shimmering beautiful;

Leo: with his kiss the riot starts;

Maia: life is a cabaret old chum;

Toby: do anything for my brothaaaa;

JASMINE. (flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart;)

Levi: knight in shining armour;

🤍Pip: i’m right here beside you;

Simon: sweet as pie;

Win: everybody wants to know her name;

KIM. (glamour shot;)

Ash: little shit;

Ben: he loves me not;

Delaney: dancing in her best dress fearless;

Ezra: twin flame;

🤍Luke: we rule the kingdom inside my room;

LILY-ROSE. (promo shoot;)

Chess: passion for fashion;

Delaney: i love my sister more than anything in this life;

🤍Levi: he’s so bad but he does it so well;

LUCA. (dancing through life;)

Cora: because i knew you i have been changed for good;

Davey: nothing can break us;

Kian: heroic and true;

Lando: hot patootie;

Maggie: your favourite artist’s favourite artist;

🤍Taylor: you matter to me;

MEI. (eyes wide shut;)

Bradley: danny devito’s body double;

Max: on thin ice;

Ripley: point and shoot;

Wardo: brave and bold;

OPHELIA. (profile picture;)

Archer: tell me your favourite song;

🤍Glenn: ernest only had lovely things to say about you;

Kennedy: ride or die;

Lando: best boy;

Luke: i wish you would;

Mary-Kate: stunner;

RACHEL. (me myself and i;)

Archer: brother of mine;

Carmen: the innkeeper;

Colin: the protector;

Cora: dancing queen

Eva: baby girl;

Lando: cuddle buddy;

Maia: hey mister she’s my sister;

Teddy: my hero;

Ty: the inlaw;

[bisexual-yuri]

“Me Time” ft BUSDRIVERR and Rafael García

(Not Trujillo, for sure)

90s babies, just turned 27

1996, baby see me, Rafito 

Despacito, JOSH ALLEN #17 spread EAGLE

Number for her

Heard

Jalen Hurts

Ow, you’re not allowed to float on clouds

Hurts people hurt people, sing out loud 

Take a bow 

I own who I fuck 

Collar horse hurdle, colonize Hertel 

Monsoon, Hudson grown, Cannabis hurl 

Curly Q, baby G, where to 

Weester, that’s who! For you! 

Logan licked me in the divorce 

Redact the DRIVER for MF DOOM

All caps motherfucker, don’t sue 

Famous Moss, Zack, not like that 

Leftist hair perfect heir, political space 

Cookie faced machiavelli, love me 

Spell out your name, philosophy, Ralfie 

Colonize the moon with whom 

Directly indirect, Kdot got rekt 

Drake got fucked on the whetstone 

Street fashion redaction 

Capaz que te amo, no te voy a mentir 

La puta verdad es que todavía te amo 

I wish you didn’t know

No sabo kid from New York City 

Seattle is a cool city 

Ya no es lo mismo que era

Tango era fácil, but this is making it hard to be Sara 

Shirley Caiza lies to ya, her real name was Curly

That wasn’t even her name but honestly?

We should have babies 

Rafito, tell me, would you call me?

Promise me, maybe, honey?

It’s a love song now, the puta verdad es queen es unanimously songlike

I love you and it’s all I can write 

I was up real late with you last night 

Flying the wrong way, far from your light 

La puta verdad es que todavía te amo 

I wish you didn’t know

No sabo kid from New York City 

It’s a choice between a few of them, I’mma be real with you 

But you’re the one who I get the jolt when you text back out the blue

iMessages, FaceTime 

Nos quisimos hacer toda una cuantas verdades 

Se corre la voz, y todo el mundo ya sabo 

Sé, conjugate it right she says through tears in the middle of the night

Bilingual babies, Rafaelito, lady

Rafito, tell me, would you call me?

Promise me, maybe, honey?

Miel miel miel lover, miel 

Ricardo never called me in hell, lost his shot because Ali’s a big sell

She’s a lot of work, high maintenance, her life’s a living hell

Back injury, leg injury, hip injury, what did you tell?

Bones knows it too, hence the ghoul

Ghosting me motherfucker, that shit ain’t cool 

Fool, in the time of the butterflies, no sabotage kid in school 

Gucci shop, straight flunked time 

Damn, daft punk references 

Grimes is a bully references

Wikipedia on the fences

Elon musk will see this if you tag him, he’s a bitch big lenses

Shit should wear glasses it’s so nerdy

Sara’s so thirsty 

Ralfie cutie, only straight man who gets me 

Bisexual, pansexual, burn down the Ben’s sins 

Ho kid, time to raise, and I know allabout that 

Bilingual babies, Rafaelito, lady

Rafito, tell me, would you call me?

Promise me, maybe, honey?

Miel miel miel lover, miel 

Weird in my skin and bones, Chris again 

I got my inner child with yours

Ghost Ten Four, billscord lore 

Receipts keeper, Mongrel and Dominik know Ali’s not a whore 

I love you, I think, and it’s scary 

I don’t even want to, I’m wary

You keep being the main foo’ who got away

Tango class cutie, what do you say?

Come see me, okay?