#I felt fine??? then hours later I was like no. not fine actually
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2:42
warnings: smut, cockwarming, rough sex
your boyfriend mark! was looking way too fuckable in his tiny white short-shorts but he has set his rule. you absolutely can not disturb him while he was working.
but fuck you can’t help it, not when he’s a couple feet away from you and every click of his tongue and sighs that escape his lips are sending tingles straight down your core...maybe just this once?
“baby…,” you whisper in his ear, hugging him from behind. “hmm?,” he asks, oblivious to the sudden change in your demeanor. “why don’t you take a break?,” he sighs, “i can’t baby, i gotta finish at least two songs today,” “but i need you,” you confess quietly and he can’t help but lovingly shake his head at your behavior, “later, okay?,” he says. shutting you up with a gentle kiss.
it didn’t help.
“can i just…sit on it?,” “huh?” “pleaseee, i promise i won’t move, just need to feel you,” you whine and god, as strong as he is, he is not that strong. not when his pretty girl is begging. “okay,” he agrees.
he watched you pump him a couple times, trying to hold back his moans, the warmth of your hands already sending him into a frenzy, before you properly situated yourself on him. the inital entrance making you both groan in pleasure, “fuckkk baby, you’re so wet,” he grunts, trying to keep his composure, “told you i need youu,” you soflty whine against his ear.
mark rocks into you once before you stop him, eyes bewildered, “nu-uh markie, aren’t you supposed to be working?,” you pout, innocently teasing him and he knew he fucked up. this is so fucked up. you are so fucked up and so fucking warm and he is so turned on.
but mark has rules and he can’t break it.
“right,” he gulps, turning his attention back to his computer as you laid your head against his chest, making yourself comfortable. he tries not to focus on how good you feel around him but you can feel it with the way he was getting harder every second, making your pussy clench.
“fuuck, baby,” he groans, “that’s not fair, you said you wouldn’t move,” he whines, causing you to giggle. “i didn’t move, you’re the one moving inside me, my body just reacted to yours,” you tease.
his ears are bright red now as he breathes in slowly, trying so hard to stay in control. you bite back your giggles as he shakes his head, turning his attention back to his computer once more.
for a couple minutes he was doing fine, he actually felt a little more inspired and besides the light snores beside him and his rock hard boner that was currently inside you, he has gotten pretty good at ignoring your presence.
and then he dropped his stupid fucking pen…causing him to jolt forward, reaching out for it. the sudden motion elicits a moan from your lips and the friction the movement made was enough for mark to lose his shit. he did last almost an hour.
“fuck it,” he groans, slamming his laptop shut.
rules were meant to be broken.
he harshly rocks into you again, waking you up from your light slumber, “mark?,” “you just couldn’t wait can't you…just had to be a greedy little slut” he grunts, the comment sending tingles all throughout your body, pussy clenching tightly around his cock.
the pent up tension has gotten to his brain as he grabs your face, connecting his lips upon yours, tongue’s battling, swallowing every moan that you make.
you have won.
“y-yes markie, only for you,” you whine, a small smile on your lips, rocking your hips against his cock.
“faster, markie,” you whine. he pushes you off, making you stand before turning you around and pushing you down his table, ass up. he wastes no time in sliding back into you, pounding into you like a man starved, not caring at all about his laptop.
“this is what you wanted isn’t?,” he groans near your ear.
“fuuuck!, mark!,” you yell, gripping the edge of his computer table. he angles his cock to the side, hitting you right where you needed him the most as profanities slipped past your lips, no longer able to create coherent sentences.
“yeah, you like that baby?,” mark groans, landing a slap on your ass, making you clench even tighter around him, your body responding to everything he does.
your release came fast, hitting you like a ton of bricks. mark makes sure to grab onto you tighter as you lost your footing, not at all slowing down the relentless pace he has set.
tears has begun to form around your eyes, cries of pleasure taking over all of his senses, “hang on baby, i’m so close,” he groans, hand finding its way to your sensitive bud, making you scream in pleasure.
“you can give me one more, right?,” he demands, still rutting into you at a brutal pace. you’re so cock drunk all you can do is nod your head, feeling your second orgasm come to a close, this one hitting harder than before, “you feel so. fucking. good,” he groans with every thrust, as he feels his orgasm coming through.
quickly, he turns you around, on your knees, one hand clutching your hair the other pumping his cock getting ready to shoot his load into your mouth. you moan, enjoying every drop, licking his cock clean as he sat back down on his computer chair catching his breath, fingers gently running through your hair as you two share a smile.
that was definitely worth breaking his rule. just this one time.
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an: another smut…within the same week? woo! i have never moved on from that selfie and yall can’t even judge me i know you guys are freaks (p.s. requests are open!)
#i know he likes it rough#oops who wrote that#mark lee x reader#mark lee smut#mark lee blurbs#mark lee scenarios#nct smut#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct 127 smut#nct 127 x reader#nct dream smut#nct dream x reader#love.c.
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maybe i need meds???
#knocks on skull like GOD CAN YOU JUST FUCKING EMOTIONALLY REGULATE I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD#been swinging wildly between 'i need help' & 'im faking it' every single HOUR#the thing is. and this is the thing. my life right now is as close to perfect as i'll ever get there is literally nothing wrong#im MEANT to be HAPPY why am i UNSTABLE#im thinking meds maybe but also it's just such a pain#to book a drs appt to get put on a mental health plan to be put on a waiting list for a shrink then convince said shrink that I need meds#sounds painful#don't think I can do it...#but. ive booked a drs appt so baby steps.#but see like I booked it on wed bc I was very much going to have a breakdown at my desk then immediately felt silly on thurs morning bc#I felt fine??? then hours later I was like no. not fine actually#im going to fucking chuck#hex.txt#personal#personal posts are only on this blog bc u guys are more used to hearing me blabber bullshit than my main#does anyone wanna tell me some good news or something nice happening in their life
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got drunk for the first time last night and drunk played animal crossing on my ds which i don’t even usually carry around with me but i was planning on just bringing my purse and needed Some sort of social crutch and that was all that could fit so i stuck it in there just in case even if i didn’t think i’d actually end up pulling it out and then it turned out everyone else was bringing their backpacks to play roblox so i didn’t need it anyway since i could then fit the social crutch i actually wanted (my ipad to draw) but the ds was still just there in my purse and i was like omg i really want to play animal crossing rn and went on there for the first time in like two months and rasher my favorite villager was moving out and i tried to drunk write him a letter begging him not to leave me but i had no letter paper and it was midnight so i couldn’t shop for some 😭 but Anyway all this is to say he is thankfully still here trying to move out so i can do my little letter + gift routine that always makes them stay now. fortunately not featuring the drunk begging this time. also we drank premade margaritas out of beakers
#to clarify not my first time having a drink just my first time drinking enough to be like. WOO BOY#we played drinkopoly(??) and didn’t have enough pieces for all of us so we had to use their lego characters and i was a baby dragon 💀#also cup pong and some other drinking game idk what it was called but we had to drink what was in the cups and flip them and it went down#the line like that#the cup pong we weren’t actually drinking for tho we were just throwing the balls#personal#leigh plays animal crossing#felt horrible this morning but then i managed to drag myself out of bed to eat peanut butter toast a few hours later and im basically fine#now. i mean i still have a headache i guess but#im not nauseous at all anymore so that’s a Win#i chugged like two hydroflasks worth of water before going to bed so that must have helped
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#Louis saving my life these past few days#Worried about my friends and people in vzla#Sad about everything#Keep very busy with work and then it's bam!#I was listening to 1D earlier just to get some inspiration for a sign for pride tomorrow#Funny enough i decided on 'if you ever feel alone... Don't'#Because hours later I felt very much alone#I'm very fine with aloneness I love it actually#But on times like this...... It's kinda brutal#But anyway. I don't want pity... *#And also reading 'the other significant others' which I am loooooving but maaannnnn#It hits me in the feels way too close to home#Anyway blah blah blah blah#tomorrow will be better
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SUCH a ‘do everything you can in certain areas of your life, so you can at least feel like you have something resembling control over it’ girlie x
#going away in 11 days so i’m preparing and getting ready#i need to make a list of stuff to pack#i need to decide what clothes i’m gonna take to wear#i need to control things to avoid the anxiety#or at least try to ease it#idk i’m always nervous something will go wrong lately so i’m trying to prepare for the easy stuff and the stuff i can control#gonna try to figure out my nausea and how to deal with sitting in a car for hours#i just need to get ready™️#gonna try to swim for the first time in years#especially since i became disabled and i’m wondering how that’s gonna work#but idk i’ll try#gonna work out going out in public with my walker some more#gonna go on the beach!!#for the first time in years!!!#if i think about it too hard i feel like crying#i have sooo much nervous energy#i’m both excited and scared#trying to convince myself it will all be fine#and i can still live my life#bc recently i’ve felt like i don’t have one and that i can’t get it back#mania my beloathed#idk maybe stay tuned over the next couple weeks as i post anxious bullshit in the lead up and then maybe cool shit when i actually go#i say 11 days it’s actually more bc i’m joining everyone out there later but still#it’s not long now#gwen rambles#gwenposting
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FRESHERS FAIR WAS SOMETHING.
#so yes it was 5 hours standing (no chairs) trying to sell people on a weird club#(hard)#I forgot my water bottle so I was DYING the whole time#and yes it was with the guy I kinda have a crush on but we did not do much talking.#I tried. I TRIED but conversations didn’t really go anywhere and I was also trying probably way too hard to sell people on the club#I mean i did a fucking amazing job the things addressing people directly with a smile as they walk past will do is insane#maybe I AM charismatic actually#but man. tonight is gonna be insane.#I wish I’d got to talk to Guy more but he also didn’t like. ask me anything I think he might’ve been tired and hungry and feet hurty#little bit overwhelmed#I also did a lot of the talking to people and I don’t know if that was better or worse for him. better for the club bc I Was better at it#but idk if he felt sidelined bc he was also standing there for 5 hours#it wasn’t like he did nothing but a lot of the like talking past the initial hi join us was me#which makes SENSE bc I run the club and he’s smaller lower commitment role but idk. I might’ve fucked up a little there.#not a huge deal but he definitely wasn’t having a great time#kinda a shame altogether but it’s fine I’ll see him later and we might be able to actually talk without the weird pressure environment#luke.txt
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Ladies With Experience
Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader
Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?
Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader
Word Count: 5k
A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰
You can also read me on Ao3!
DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”
You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.
“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.”
And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table.
The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.
“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you.
Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.
Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.
“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.
Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans.
“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”
“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”
You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.
Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel.
You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.
“I’ll get her,” Dean said.
Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside.
You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat.
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.
“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you.
The question caught you off guard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”
“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”
He replied with a knowing look.
You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”
“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.
You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.
But not this . You couldn’t tell him this.
You shook your head.
“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.
“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever .
His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long.
“Was it something I said?” he prodded.
You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation.
He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.
“Do I at least get a hint?”
“Dean, I —”
“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”
“Why are you pushing this?”
“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”
Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been.
“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”
You didn’t respond.
He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”
“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it.
Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish.
“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?”
You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.
“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”
“Romantic,” you quipped.
A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”
You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.
“What?” you croaked.
“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”
“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them.
“Of whatever you want.”
“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart.
You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.
“No, that’s not what I —”
You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.
“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”
Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”
“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—”
“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”
“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”
He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”
“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point.
“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”
“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”
You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.
“Why do you know that?”
God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”
“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”
Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too.
“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly.
Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”
His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”
“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”
“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core.
“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”
“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him.
“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.
“Telling Sammy to beat it.”
Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”
He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”
“Why not!?”
“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it.
“Oh my God,” you began.
“Shut up.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”
“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased.
“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.
You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money.
Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision.
You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead.
“Ladies first.”
“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”
He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.
“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.
He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.
“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.
“Promise.”
“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.
“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.
You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.
“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.
You tilted your head in question.
“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”
“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby��s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid.
He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —
“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on.
You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more.
“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”
He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.
“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”
“And how’s that?”
He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.
“Like the fucking brat you are.”
You almost came from that alone.
Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place.
“Do your worst.”
It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked.
When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted.
“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”
You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”
“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”
“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”
You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”
“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”
“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”
“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”
“Put me in my place,” you repeated.
“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”
Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core.
Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this .
He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.
“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early.
“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.
You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening.
“Hold it,” he ordered.
Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.
“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.
“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”
You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then —
He stopped.
He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.
You whined.
He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it.
“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”
You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.
“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you.
You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.
“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.”
His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you.
He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.
“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.
“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”
“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”
He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”
Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.
He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him.
“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.
“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.
He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it.
“Dean,” you breathed.
“Hm?”
“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.
You decided you liked “baby” better.
“Please.”
“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”
You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”
His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said.
“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his.
You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around.
“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”
You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.
“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.
“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?”
“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?”
His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hm. But not this time, right?”
“Y/N —” he warned.
“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”
For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.
“Color?” he questioned roughly.
“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.
Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits.
“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind.
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more.
“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter.
“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”
You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily.
He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out.
“Good?” he asked.
“So fucking good.”
When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out.
“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”
He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame.
“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —
“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”
And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually.
“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.
“More than,” you smiled.
He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —
“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”
He snorted. “They’re half right.”
“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”
He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”
You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”
“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”
“It was perfect, Dean.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”
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“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”
Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.
“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”
Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.
“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”
Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.
“Um… for the aesthetic?”
Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.
“You- you can’t stop me!”
And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.
He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.
He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.
Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.
“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”
Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.
“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.
“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”
“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.
“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”
“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”
“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.
“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”
“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”
Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.
He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.
“There!”
Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.
Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.
“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.
Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”
Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.
——
Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.
Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).
Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.
“B, I wanna go home.”
“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.
Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.
Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.
——
Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.
He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.
——
Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water
Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*
——
Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity
Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:
——
Dick as Robin: *cackles*
Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*
Gotham Criminals: *fear*
#danny phantom#bamf danny phantom#dick grayson#tim drake is a menace#tim drake#baby tim drake#Tim Drake is a little shit#Danny Phantom is a little shit#they’re messing with the bats#and getting away with it#inspired by dick’s iconic Robin cackle#that creepy lil shit#i love them your honor#they’re brothers your honor#Gotham’s F grade tap water#thanks scarecrow#Gotham’s tap water#dc x dp#dp x dc
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Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 9)
It was snowing.
Actually, 'snowing' was an understatement. It was a freaking blizzard. And it really came out of nowhere too, just a thin layer of snow covering the ground during the early hours and now, you couldn't see anything besides white throught the window.
Oh yeah, you were also sick.
To be fair, you knew you would get sick eventually thanks to this huge change in temperature. It wasn’t even because you were out with Johnny yesterday night; you would have gotten sick regardless. It just happened that everytime the seasons changed, a flu would strike you.
It happens, you were used to it, but still...
You certainly weren't used to the attention.
First of all, you woke up with someone already in your room. Two someones, actually. Johnny was anxiously pacing close to your bed, a frown on his face as he sniffled the air around you. Kyle was with him, head tilted in your direction as he also frowned in concern.
And in a second, Kyle's large hand was pressing against your forehead, then your warm, red cheeks, and then your small neck. His hand felt warm, as always, but even you could feel it that you were warmer, making him tsc in concern.
So, they decided to place you on the large living room couch, still in the sweater and sweatpants you were wearing as pajamas, propped carefully against the many pillows and cushions, with a blanket draped over your lap and legs.
The same blanket John had bought for you the day before.
"Temperature?" Price asks, voice gruff and arms crossed as he watches Kyle staring at the thermometer with a frown.
"37,7ºC. That's high for humans." He sighs, putting the thermometer aside.
Johnny frowns a bit at the information, sitting close to you so he could also check your temperature for himself.
"Almost as warm as a werewolf..." He mutters with his own frown on his face, leaning close enough to almost lay his head against your lap and torso. "How are ye feeling, wee pup?"
"F-Fine..." Your voice sounds a little rough, your throat a bit raspy. "I... I have... I usually get sick when the temperature changes... too quickly..."
He nods and croons at your quiet answer, now actually leaning to rub his head and fluffy ears against your chest.
"Here you go." Simon says quietly as he approaches with a light blue mug on hands, passing to you carefully as he kneels in front of the couch.
The mug was big and warm on your hold, but it was also enveloped in a small white cloth to make sure you wouldn't burn your hands, even tho the liquid inside wasn't even that hot. It was warm, just like it has to be.
"Lemon and honey tea, darlin'. Helps your throat nicely." He grunts out, heavy hand coming up to your forehead too, making you close your eyes slightly in satisfaction. His hands are much cooler thanks to his Wraith nature.
As he takes his hand away, you take a small sip of the tea. You weren't a fan of tea, but considering it's just lemon and honey... you can manage.
"With the way it's snowing outside, it's an indoor day for all of us." Price notes, looking out the window with his burly arms still crossed.
"Ah'll 'ave fun shoveling the snow later..." Johnny murmurs sarcastically as he sits up once again, glaring outside the window.
"Darlin', the tea." Simon reminds you gently after you took too long for a second sip.
You blush a little, nodding quietly as you take another sip. At least it felt soothing going down your throat; it didn’t hurt like it usually did when you forced yourself to drink water all the other times you were sick.
"Okay, I searched, and… it seems to be safe for humans to take Tylenol, but only in small doses." Kyle warns seriously, his wing twitching for a moment as if to reach for your small form sitting on the couch.
"I'll go get it." Simon gets up quickly, going to the bathroom closest to the living room.
You were sipping on your tea, distracted, staring at the direction Simon went off, enough to startle you as John kneels by your side on the couch, fixing the blanket on top of you to make sure it wouldn't slip off.
"Tell us if you feel worse or need anything, yes, hatchling?" he murmurs gruffly, leaning close enough to bump his forehead against yours. You were small enough to do it without his big horns getting in the way.
"O... Okay..." You mumble, a bit caught off guard, shyly looking away. "B-But... I'm fine..."
"Mhm, yeah, lassie, ye are. An' Ahm gonna know if ye aren't..." Johnny murmurs in the most omnious way possible, making you shiver a bit in place as you stare at him wide eyed, John just rolling his eyes with a smile on his lips. "Can smell ye, gonna knae right awa' if you worsen, yeah, wee pup?" He croons, scottish accent strong, leaning closer with a big, smug grin.
"Stop scaring the kid, mutt." Simon growls as he comes back, slapping the back of Johnny's head with a bit too much force in your opinion, but all the werewolf does is snap his teeth at the bigger man's direction with a huge smile still on his face.
"We only have in tablets?" Kyle murmurs, face scrunching in displeasure.
"Unfortunally. I'll buy drops later for next time." Simon rumbles back, gently running his hand over Kyle's ruffled feathers, making the harpy relax a little. "The tablets are good for now."
"These the 500mg?" Kyles asks, humming in consideration as Simon nods.
"Too strong." John rumbles lowly from his place kneeling by your side, hand firmly planted on your blanket.
The harpy nods, agreeing with the dragon as he stares at the tablet he popped out on his hand. In a quick movement, Kyle bites more than half of the tablet off, leaning over the back of the couch to give you the rest.
"Here you go, baby. Swallow it with your tea." He smiles lovingly, sharp nails gently putting the small piece against your small palm.
"Y-You swallowed...?" You mumble, slightly shocked with his actions.
"This medication is not enough to have any effect on me, chick." He smiles, a small and gentle laugh coming out of his mouth.
"Garrick has taken much stronger shit just to stay awake during missions." Ghost huffs humerously.
That comment certainly makes you curious, but your attention is called back to John as he gently pushes your small hand close to your mouth.
"Take it, doll, come on."
You nod quietly, quickly putting the tablet in your mouth and taking a sip of the almost-finished tea to swallow it under the watchful eyes of the four of them
"Good." John croons deeply, his eyes getting lighter for a second, startling you a little.
"Pup needs food." Johnny mumble, once again leaning close to your body.
"I'll make it," John huffs, climbing back to his feet. "Make a good bean soup with some bacon. Gonna liven up the pup right away."
"Add collard greens, great for the human flu." Ghost notes gravelly, leaning over the back of the couch where he and Kyle were standing to grab the empty mug from your hands.
They’re starting to give you a small headache. They truly didn’t stop, did they? They were always moving, always doing something. They worked so well together too, on top of their own game and each other’s.
"While they do that, it's time for a nap, don't ye think?" Johnny rumbles, pulling you to him in a quick motion that gets you almost dizzy.
"I-I just woke up..." You mumble, unsure, trying to look up at him from where you were laying against his body, but you were unsucceful as he simply pulled your blanket over you once again and made you lay sideways, putting a pillow over his stomach so you could lay your head on it confortably.
"And ye're sick, pup. Ye sleep." He rumbles gently, patting your small head of hair.
"That's good. We'll call you when the soup gets ready." Kyle nods with a loving smile on his face, his wings puffing out now for a different reason than his stress from moments ago.
Simon rounds the couch to reach the fireplace, adding more firewood with expertise, moving the still-not-burned logs with his bare hands to make sure the fire keeps going. Kyle takes the time to also draw the curtains close, immediately bringing darkness to the room now that all that expanse of white snow was covered.
You were still a bit in alert, but the darkness helped your mind to settle a bit, Johnny's warmth under you making you sleepier than you though you would feel as his giant hand kept caressing your short hair, sharp nails scratching oh so gentle against your scalp. Apparently, he's going to be with you all the time to make sure you're safe and sound, healthy and comfortable.
He cooed something very quietly, but you didn’t manage to understand it before your eyes fell closed, exhaustion brought on by the flu making you fall asleep quickly.
Your social worker was right... they are so nurturing... you have been with them for barely three days, and yet...
Your eyes go a little misty as you start to lose consciousness.
You don't want to leave.
Part 8 / Part 10
#poly141#poly!141#cod#foster child!reader#teen!reader#kid!reader#simon ghost riley#john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#wraith!ghost#werewolf!soap#dragon!price#harpy!gaz#monster 141 au#monster au#cod mw2#cod mw3#tf 141#dad!price#dad!ghost#dad!soap#dad!gaz#hybrid 141#human!Reader#platonic!141
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If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?
That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭
Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!
Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.
A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness
Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.
Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth
Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.
Word count: 2,6k
Requested? Yes.
Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!
General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist
Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.
Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.
Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.
You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.
— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.
— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.
— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.
Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.
— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.
Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.
— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.
— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.
— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..
— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.
Penny-One simply turns to you.
— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.
You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).
Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?
At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.
Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.
Did you fall asleep?
That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.
You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.
— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.
Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.
— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.
— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.
— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…
— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.
— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.
— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.
The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.
— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.
Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.
It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.
— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.
— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.
— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.
— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.
— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?
— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…
— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.
— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.
— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.
— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.
— Then why aren't you there?
Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.
— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.
— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).
You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.
They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.
You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.
Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.
Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.
You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.
And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.
This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.
It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.
You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.
You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.
— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.
— You’re late. — Batman states.
— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.
Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.
— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.
— GET. OUT!
— But-
— OUT!
— But, (Y/N)-
— NOW! GET OUT NOW!
They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.
— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.
— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.
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#bruce wayne x reader#yandere dc#justice league#yandere batman x reader#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere batman#masterlist#yandere justice league x reader#yandere justice league#hal jordan x reader#yandere hal jordan x reader#justice league x reader#diana prince x reader#yandere diana prince x reader#yandere green lantern x reader#green lantern x reader#yandere superman#superman x reader#yandere superman x reader#clark kent x reader#yandere clark kent x reader#yandere martian manhunter x reader#yandere aquaman x reader#yandere arthur curry x reader#arthur curry x reader#yandere wonder woman x reader#bruce wayne x assistant reader#justice league x assistant reader#yandere barry allen x reader#yandere flash x reader
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R&R
Pairing: Cassian x Reader
Summary: Cassian was tired and you were taking forever to get your ass back home.
Word count: 1k
Warnings: nothing! fluff <3
a/n: A little drabble as I ignore my homework.
~~
Cassian was tired.
He felt it in his bones and the cracks of his skin.
Dirt was ingrained in every crevice of his leathers, dusting out as he shucked the articles to the ground and stepped into the steaming bath. Training didn’t usually take this much out of him, but there were a host of recruits that he needed to train, all so eager to be part of the troops after the victorious War with Hybern.
All eager but so, so inept.
And then you weren’t home when he got here, which pissed him off.
All he could think about during the hours of training drills and conditioning and corrections was coming home to you, pressing his face into your neck, and falling asleep to the warmth of your skin. He had sent a spark down the bond when he started his journey home, which—to him—was a request for you to come home as well.
You did not.
Cassian dried himself off and threw on the closest pair of cotton pants he could find, falling into bed with a huff.
Ridiculous.
He was in bed and he was alone.
He covered his eyes with the bulk of his arm.
He’d sleep then. Fine.
Only he couldn’t sleep. The bed smelled like you and he tugged at the bond again. This time, you actually did offer him a reply, and Cassian wanted to drown in the warmth you sent through his chest.
Where the hell were you?
He flipped onto his stomach and shoved his face into a pillow. He should be able to sleep without you there. He was Illyrian; he had slept in far worse conditions. On rocks, in a tree, standing up against war-torn buildings—Cassian could sleep anywhere at any time. But then he met you and he fell in love with you and you weren’t getting your ass home fast enough.
Cauldron help him if you ever decided to go on vacation.
Mor had tried something like that when you were freshly mated, posing a girl's trip to you and Feyre. That idea hadn’t gone far.
It had been more about sex and lust and being so enamored by you that he couldn’t breathe back then. Right now he just wanted to get some damn sleep.
The bedroom door clicked open and unrelenting joy washed away the irritation he was harboring for you. Because how could he be irritated when you came into the room all soft and smiley and bright? Upon further contemplation, Cassian decided that no, he wasn’t ever irritated at you, actually.
“Hi, Cass,” you called, the sound muting the headache that had begun to form behind the general’s eyes. “How were the recruits? Are they ready to charge into battle?”
You flitted about the room, taking off your coat and setting your bags down and not paying attention to him at all. Cassian fought the urge to tackle you onto the bed just to get you to stop moving. He couldn’t even get a good look at you like this, and he hadn’t seen you all day. He left before you woke up.
“Yeah maybe in a few years,” Cassian grumbled, following you with his eyes as you started cleaning up the damn room. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
“I will in just a moment. This place is a mess. You got dirt everywhere, did you know that?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up later, just come here.”
You tsked and ignored him. Cassian cursed at the ceiling.
“I was out with Mor earlier and we stopped by Nyx's school to surprise him,” you giggled, grabbing a stupid broom. “He was adorable, of course. He painted you and Az for one of his projects in art. You’ll have to see it when he brings it home. I swear, Cass, he is just hmph—”
The broom clattered to the floor, forgotten along with the dirt that lined the wood. Your cheeks were encased by Cassian’s hands as he kissed you, and he ran one back to entangle it with your hair. Gods, you smelled good, like strawberries or apples or whatever fruity perfume you were trying while you were out shopping. Cassian deepened the kiss and relished in the surprised sound you made.
“You didn’t even kiss me when you came in,” he practically pouted, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Or look at me.”
You gripped at his biceps to keep yourself upright, his body pressed so closely to yours. “I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.
“I know.” He nudged your nose with his. “Lay down with me.”
“But the floor—”
“Lay down with me,” he repeated.
A brief pause, a small nod; right now, it took very little to make Cassian so inexplicably happy.
He gathered you in his arms the moment your body hit the sheets, burying his face in your neck like he was supposed to do about thirty minutes ago. And then you ran your fingers across his scalp and Cassian decided he was dead. There was no other explanation for this type of bliss.
“Did you have a bad day?” you asked softly.
“Day was fine. Long, but fine,” he grumbled, pulling you tighter, pressing his lips to your skin.
You hummed. “Then why couldn’t I clean the room?”
“Because I’m tired and you were over there.”
“Not seeing the correlation, my love.”
Tire was weighing heavy on Cassian’s mind. His body relaxed even more into the bed as his hands ran down the length of your body.
“I need to hold you to fall asleep,” he replied as if it were obvious. Because it was.
“Oh.”
He grunted out a confirmation.
“Well, I’m not exactly ready for bed yet and I told Rhys—”
“I love you,” Cassian interrupted. “Please stop talking.”
And then Cassian was no longer pissed or annoyed or tired because nothing was out of place. Sleep found him quickly.
#cassian x reader#cassian x you#cassian x y/n#cassian x fem!reader#cassian acotar#cassian imagine#a court of thorns and roses#acotar
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"What do you mean a real baby?!"
Kenji Sato X [afab]reader [Oneshot]
TW : spouse reader/petnames/implied sex/pregnancy/Emi mention/panic/mixed POV
Hi guys so I made this on a whim, lmao. Just came to my head lmao. I haven't properly proofread it yet but I hope you like it😫🥺
©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.
He didn't know what to do. Kenji found it. The thing that turned his world into a total 180 once again. As Kenji stared down at the positive pregnancy test he found in trash, Kenji's mind was racing a million miles per house. He had just started adjusting to life without Emi, he would visit the kaiju infant from time to time but now this...was something else.
"How the hell did this happen?! I mean..I know how it happened but how?!" Kenji murmured to himself. His wife was at the store and he was taking the time to properly process everything. "Ken Sato..y-you can do it...no you can't! Oh my God!"
Kenji started panicking a little. Mina tried to calm him down. "Ken, you need to calm down. Your heart is racing. You'll be fine. A human child is almost the same as Emi" Mina reported. The robot assistant hovered next to Kenji as he clawed at his hair panicked.
"MINA! What do I do? That's an actual baby! Something my size! No...even smaller" Kenji gulped whiles hugging his knees. Kenji didn't even notice that the door had opened and his wife had returned from the store.
"Baby? You okay? What's going on?" I asked deeply worried as I sat down on my knees on the bed. I gently pet my husband's head. I looked around to find anything to give me a clue as to what made my husband panic so much. My eyes stopped as I found the positive test, I had taken a few hours ago. I hadnt been feeling well for a few weeks, before then Kenji I had been going at it like rabbits so it was kinda..expected. With widened eyes, I took a deep breath and gently hugged him. "Talk to me. Whats going on your head? And yes, I am pregnant"
Kenji's world turned upside once again. He felt alot of things now with this confirmation. Worry, happiness, panic, joy, fear. It was all over the place. "I mean..wow...I'm worried about taking care of a human baby this time.. they're much smaller" Kenji started and exhaled deeply. I hummed listening to him. "Don't get me wrong I'm happy..I'm j-just worried I'm not up to it. This baby is different from a Kaiju. W-What if i end up like my dad? Or my kids end up hating me later because of Ultraman"
"Kenji..breath. Deep breathes, okay? Shhh.."I soothed my husband as I listened to him. I put my hands on his shoulder and gently massaged him to ease his tension. "Honey..I know you're worried but trust me, you've got this. You're gonna be an excellent father. Think about it..remember how you took care of Emi. You're her dad too" I started whiles kissing his face softly.
"You're gonna be a better father than you're dad. You know firsthand how it felt with your dad and I know you wouldn't want our baby to feel how you did. You're gonna be fine. One day at a time. Plus we took care of Emi so well and look her..she's the most beautiful and friendly Kaiju" I reassured him. Kenji took deep breathes and listened to me. His stress and worries were eased but not completely.
"You're right. You're right.." Kenji murmured.
"I'm always right" I joked playfully whiles nuzzling into his nose. Kenji rolled his eyes playfully and kissed my cheek.
"See, baby. You're gonna be fine, okay? The best father ever. Look at our baby Emi. You have some daddy experience" I smiled whiles kissing his face. Kenji chuckled and returned the affection. Kenji began rambling about his excitement. I cupped his face as I listened to him.
"Bet you wanna go and tell Emi right?" I giggled whiles tilting my head with shake of my head. Kenji bit his lip in pure excitement and nodded. I pecked his lips. "Go on. Tell her I said hi, okay? Don't be too late ,okay? We have a lot to talk about"
"I won't. I love you, sweetheart" Kenji laughed and stood up as he opened the doors to the balcony before jumping out and transforming into the giant of light he was.
"I love you too, baby"
#ken sato x reader#kenji sato x reader#kenji sato#ken sato#ultraman 2024#ultraman rising#emi ultraman#oneshot
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I’m not usually one for miscommunication as a trope but hear me out:
Arthur thinks he and Merlin are together because Merlin says shit like “you’re my destiny” and “two sides of the same coin” fairly often.
He even looks fond or proud whenever he calls Arthur a prat, and pet names never suited them. He considered it once but it just felt weird. “Idiot.” Changed to “Idiot <3” when they finally got together and that suits them much better than Darling or Babe or whatever else.
And it’s not like he doesn’t say romantic stuff back, all: “you’re the bravest man I ever met.” Or “you’re the best friend I have and I couldn’t bare to lose you”
Meanwhile, Merlin pinpoints the same moment Arthur believed they started dating as when Arthur started acting more affectionate and Merlin’s crush got dialled up to 11.
Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so he pushes his luck occasionally and will hug Arthur after a long day or will lean on him if they’re eating together on a hunting trip. Merlin absolutely cherishes these moments, but he’s secretly wishing they meant as much to Arthur as they do to him. (Spoiler alert: they do.)
So they must be together, Merlin just can’t be bothered with titles and with everything that happened, Agravane and Morgana betraying him, it would be ideal to wait for an announcement of their relationship.
He gifts Merlin clothes, new boots, will leave flowers in his chambers and asked for the cook to make more of Merlin’s favourites so he can steal food from Arthur’s plate because he claims it tastes better when it isn’t his food.
Arthur gave Merlin his mother’s sigil, for crying out loud. They’re obviously together.
And even better, (you can pry demi or ace Arthur from my cold dead hands) they don’t even need to be intimate beyond the occasional hug or soft gestures like Merlin brushing the hair from his face before Arthur goes to sleep at night and Arthur doing the same whenever they’re not in the castle and sleeping next to each other. He was worried at first, but Merlin never expected it, which Arthur just takes as: “And how stupid to worry? who knows him better than Merlin? Of course he would already know Arthur didn’t feel comfortable with that sort of stuff.”
Then one day, a delegation comes to Camelot and one of the foreign knights is flirting with Merlin. Arthur sees, and he doesn’t usually feel any need to act on his jealousy because he trusts Merlin, but this knight isn’t flirting in the way Gwaine does that’s just part of who he is, and Merlin looks uncomfortable. So he calls Merlin over to him, starts acting like a prat, and keeps Merlin “busy” all night by keeping his goblet full or usual servants duties.
Then later, Merlin thanks Arthur but says he doesn’t need to worry and he can handle himself. Arthur, finally relaxing after being ready to start a fight for the past three hours, pulls Merlin into a hug and kisses his forehead, because let the medieval gays be soft sometimes. He whispers something like, “I know you don’t like talking about it, and that you’ve said you don’t need a title, but you shouldn’t have to handle everything on your own.”
Merlin pulls back, looking shocked and confused. Then they actually have to talk about everything.
Merlin’s just fine with actually dating the guy he’s got a massive crush on and now he’s more willing to instigate hugs and affection. (Arthur just thought Merlin wasn’t going to push him to not make him uncomfortable but secretly wishes that he would instigate more) They end up sleeping in the same bed in Camelot too, because cuddles and softness, something Arthur wanted for a while but didn’t know how to ask for.
Basically all the problems in the relationship that Arthur was worried about but kinda felt “it’s already more than I could hope for” so didn’t want to bring up get worked out naturally and Merlin, who was previously worried about his friendship getting ruined if they changed the dynamic too much, is shocked by how little actually changed now that they’re together. He just gets to hold Arthur’s hand, can be less subtle about stealing from his dinner, gets to relax and gets an Arthur that’s more clingy and soft now that Merlin knows he’s allowed to reciprocate affection.
They still tease each other, they’re still two idiots sharing a braincell that they occasionally give to Leon to babysit, they’re just more open about being in love now. (More open to each other, anyway. Literally everyone else in Camelot knew long before they did)
Bonus points if they’ve been talking about their relationship and having the important conversation with each other the entire time, just without actually talking about it. Merlin asking why Arthur suddenly changed how affectionate he is and Arthur saying he thought he was allowed. Merlin’s just like “cool, as long as you’re okay. I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable and relaxed.” And glad there’s no love spells or anything sinister going on. Arthur says he doesn’t like Merlin flirting with Gwaine, even if he doesn’t mean it, and Merlin agrees to stop if it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t think too much into it, just thinks Arthur doesn’t like the casual flirting and believes that relationships are important so casual stuff isn’t super comfortable. Merlin is still friends with Gwaine, just makes less jokes about going home with or marrying him.
Like, they’re having entire conversations and maintaining a fully functional healthy relationship, they’re just fucking idiots at the same time.
#bbc merlin#merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#i’m bad at tagging#merlin bbc#merthur#once and future idiots#another fic idea i don’t have time for#merlin fic idea#medieval husbands#miscommunication#miscommunication trope#two sides of the same coin#two halves of the same idiot#Arthur got the braincell#sorta#merlin fanfic#fic ideas#merlin x arthur
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break free | lando norris
pairing: lando norris x reader summary: a no-strings relationship filled with broken promises and painful habits begins to crumble when she decides it’s time to break the cycle
Lando had never believed in labels or long-term promises. For him, relationships were like races: intense, thrilling, and with an inevitable finish line. And for some reason, she had agreed to those terms from the start.
They’d met at a party in Silverstone, one of those chaotic weekends where adrenaline blurred into revelry. She wasn’t like the other girls who usually surrounded him; she didn’t care about cars, cameras, or impressing him. What caught his attention was her indifference.
At first, it was all so simple. Laughter, nights of passion, and a mutual, unspoken understanding that this wasn’t serious. But over time, things got complicated. She started staying after parties, listening to his frustrations after bad days on the track, and reading between the lines when he claimed he was fine, though his eyes said otherwise. Sometimes, Lando wondered why she stuck around, knowing full well he could never give her what she deserved.
And her? Well, she seemed to accept it—or at least that’s what she let him believe. She didn’t cry when he vanished after an argument, didn’t ask about the girls in the photos with him, and never demanded more than he was willing to offer. Initially, that apparent nonchalance reassured him. Over time, though, it began to confuse him.
Perhaps that’s why, when he saw her surrounded by others, laughing with friends who were far too attractive or far too attentive, he felt that annoying pang of jealousy. He’d never admit it out loud, but there was something about the way Charles looked at her that irritated him to no end.
“It’s ridiculous,” he told himself. “She always comes back to me.”
It was a cycle that repeated itself over and over again: he’d go out, she’d see him with others, say nothing, and by the end of the night, they’d always be together. Sometimes he wondered how long this dynamic could last before one of them finally broke.
The music pulsed through the exclusive Monte Carlo club, the lights flickering like stars over a packed dance floor. Lando leaned against the bar, his signature carefree demeanour intact, a whisky glass in hand. He was surrounded by a group of girls, their attention as fleeting as his own emotions. While he laughed at something one of them said, his gaze shifted towards the club’s entrance.
She was there, with that calm gaze and an attitude that seemed to tell the world nothing could touch her. She’d learned not to expect anything from him. She didn’t complain when she saw him with others, didn’t cry when he disappeared for days. She was just... there, her presence as inevitable as sunrise.
When she walked in, Lando wasn’t surprised. He noticed her instantly, though she made no effort to capture his attention. She sat at a table with friends, including Charles and Pierre . Her laughter carried through the air like a melody he couldn’t ignore, and for a moment, a pang of something like jealousy stabbed at his chest.
There she was. In a fitted black dress that accentuated every curve and a confidence that always disarmed him. She looked stunning. She always did.
“What’re you staring at?” Daniel asked, noticing his friend’s fixed gaze.
“Nothing. Just someone I wasn’t expecting to see here.”
Daniel followed his line of sight and let out a low chuckle. “Ah, her. How much longer d’you reckon she’ll put up with your nonsense, Lando?”
“She knows how this works,” Lando replied, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him.
“You going to stand here staring all night or actually talk to her?” Daniel asked, giving him a nudge on the shoulder.
Lando clicked his tongue and downed his whisky in one go. “She knows I always end up with her. No rush.”
Hours later, the party was still in full swing, but Lando’s patience had worn thin. He’d watched her dance with Charles, laugh with Pierre, and barely glance his way. The club’s noise couldn’t drown out the sound of her laughter, and for some reason, it grated on him more than he cared to admit.
Finally, he approached her.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself with Charles.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Lando? That’s what you’re going to say to me? After everything you do, you expect me to just smile?”
“I’m not saying that…”
“Then what are you saying? Because honestly, I’ve no idea what you want from me. Or actually, I do know, but I’m getting tired of playing your game.”
He stayed silent, and she seized the moment to continue.
“It’s always the same with you. You come to me when it suits you, disappear when you’re bored, and expect me to just be here like nothing’s happened.”
“You knew what this was from the start,” Lando finally said defensively.
“Yes, I did. But knowing and living it are two very different things. And I’m starting to realise I’m not the person I thought I was. This... whatever this is... isn’t what I want for myself.”
“You always say that, but you always come back.”
She stared at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and determination. “Maybe this time’s different.”
Charles, who’d been watching the exchange from across the table, stepped in with a nervous chuckle. “Everything all right here?”
“Perfectly,” she replied, standing and grabbing her bag. “I’m heading to the balcony. Enjoy yourselves.”
The cool air on the terrace was a relief after the heat and noise of the club. She lit a cigarette and let the silence envelop her, if only for a moment.
“Why do you always do this?”
She turned her head to see him approaching, hands in his pockets and a serious expression on his face.
“Do what, Lando?”
“Act like you don’t care about anything I do.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Because I shouldn’t care, should I? That was always the deal.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s what you wanted. No commitments, no questions, no expectations. Just empty nights and waiting days.”
“I never asked you to wait,” he said, knowing how cruel the words sounded.
She nodded slowly, as if his words confirmed what she already knew. “You’re right. You didn’t. But you didn’t do anything to stop me either.”
The days that followed were strange for Lando. She didn’t reply to his texts or return his calls. At first, he thought she’d get over it. She always did. But this time, something felt different.
Eventually, he went to her flat, the one they’d often shared during quieter moments. She was gone. All that remained was an emptiness that made him feel small and insignificant.
The reunion was inevitable, though not how he’d expected. At a party at Max’s, she showed up with Charles, laughing like nothing had happened. Lando felt the lump in his throat but stayed away.
Later, when the night wound down, he found her on the balcony, just like that time before.
“Why?” he asked, his voice thick with desperation.
“Because I deserve more,” she replied without looking at him.
“I can change,” he said, and this time, he meant it.
She smiled sadly. “It’s not about you changing for me. It’s about me no longer waiting for you to.”
#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#landonorris#lando norris#lando norris blurb#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris one shot#lando x reader#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#f1 imagines#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris angst
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Poker Face!
_______________
Spencer Reid x Reader
:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::
:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...
:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3
WC~ 3.1 k
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“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.
“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.
“You guys are relentless,” she continued.
“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.
“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.
“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.
“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.
“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.
“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.
“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.
Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.
“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.
“That’s the plan.”
“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.
“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”
“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.
“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.
You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.
You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Whatcha you got?” you asked.
“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.
“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”
It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.
“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.
“What?” Spencer questioned.
“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.
“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”
“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.
“Strip Poker!”
“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.
“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.
“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.
“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”
“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.
“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.
“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”
“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.
Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.
Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.
Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.
But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.
“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.
You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.
“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”
“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.
“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.
Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.
Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.
“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.
“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.
“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.
Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.
“Hit me,” you egged.
“You got it,” he responded.
A five. Fuck.
Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.
“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.
“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.
“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.
“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.
“Blackjack, baby!”
Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.
“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.
“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.
“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.
“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.
“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.
Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.
“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.
“Blah, blah,” you whispered.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.
“What’s that?” he bantered.
“You lost.”
“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.
“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.
“Be my guest.”
Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.
“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.
“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.
Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.
He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.
You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.
“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.
“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.
“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.
You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.
You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.
“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.
“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”
You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.
“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”
“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.
“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.
“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.
“Let go, sweetheart.”
“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.
When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.
“That was really good,” you giggled.
“It really was,” he agreed.
“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.
“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.
“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.
“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.
“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.
“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.
You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.
#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#mgg fluff#mgg x reader#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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I'm Here on Business
Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.
For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈
***
It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.
Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.
Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.
Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.
The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.
The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.
"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.
"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."
So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.
Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.
Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.
Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.
Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.
"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.
"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.
"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.
"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.
"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."
Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.
"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."
Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.
"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.
And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.
"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.
"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.
"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.
"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"
***
A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.
The text reads:
Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?
It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.
Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?
The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.
Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.
***
Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.
"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.
"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.
"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."
"Thank you! I owe you, boss."
***
When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.
Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.
And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?
Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.
His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.
The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.
The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.
"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.
"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.
Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.
"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.
"Your uncle?" Steve asks.
"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.
"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"
Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."
"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.
"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.
"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.
"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.
"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.
"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.
"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."
"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."
Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.
"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."
"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"
Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."
"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.
"I'm taking that as a compliment."
"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.
"Yeah, let's walk."
Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.
"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.
"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.
"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."
"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.
"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.
"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.
Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.
"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.
"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.
"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."
They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.
"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."
***
The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.
"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.
"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.
"What? Never?"
Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.
"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.
"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.
"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.
"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.
"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.
"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.
The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.
Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.
The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.
Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.
Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.
"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.
"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.
Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."
"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.
"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."
"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.
"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.
"Obviously I want you to."
***
The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.
"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.
"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.
"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.
"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.
Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.
"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.
"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."
"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."
When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.
"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.
He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.
Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."
"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.
As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.
"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.
Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."
"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.
What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.
"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.
***
"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.
"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."
"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.
And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.
"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.
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