#I’m starting feel the creative buzz again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvzshy · 21 days ago

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Harmonious Nights

Summary: In the comfort of your shared home, you balance your passion for music with a playful relationship with Billie Eilish. As you navigate life together, you find inspiration in your creative space, while Billie adds her unique flair and support.

Word Count: Approximately 2,500 words.

Warnings: Fluff, humor, light angst, sarcasm.

The soft glow of the string lights hung above your home studio, creating an inviting atmosphere. The walls were adorned with framed posters of classic bands, and your drum kit took center stage. With a set of sticks in hand, you sat at the kit, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement as you prepared to dive into another session.

Just as the first beat reverberated through the room, the door creaked open, and in walked Billie Eilish. Her deep brown hair reflected the warm light, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s up, rockstar?” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Gonna wake the neighbors again with your ‘drumming skills’?”

“Excuse me,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically. “This is pure artistry you’re witnessing, Billie. Not everyone can appreciate the complexities of a paradiddle.”

Billie laughed, stepping further into the room. “Right, because the world is just dying to hear your ‘paradiddles’ at three in the morning.”

You chuckled, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, I’d argue it’s better than your midnight snack escapades, but we both know you wouldn’t survive without your stash of chips.”

“Oh, come on,” Billie retorted, mock offense in her tone. “I can’t help it if I have a refined palate. You know, potato chips are a culinary masterpiece.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you picked up the rhythm again, letting the beats flow. Billie watched for a moment, admiring the way you lost yourself in the music. It was one of the things she loved most about you—the passion, the way you poured everything into your art.

“Okay, but seriously,” Billie said, leaning against the wall, “do you think we could maybe jam together sometime? You know, I can actually sing.”

You paused, turning to her with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Sing? Billie, darling, you know you have to leave some talents for the rest of us mortals.”

Billie gasped, hand clutching her chest in mock horror. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’m an acclaimed artist.”

“An acclaimed artist who sings in the shower and has an entire album about being sad,” you quipped, laughter dancing in your eyes.

“Touché,” Billie replied, a chuckle escaping her lips. “But I can still hold my own against your drumming. Just wait till I unleash my hidden talent on you.”

“Hidden talent? What’s next, you’re going to tell me you can play the bagpipes too?”

She winked, pushing herself off the wall and stepping closer. “Only for very special occasions.”

“Great, now I’m worried about what ‘special occasion’ means,” you said, shaking your head.

You returned to the kit, letting the beat drive you, your heart swelling with inspiration. The comfortable banter between you and Billie was a rhythm of its own, a dance of love and playful irritation. As you played, you could feel her gaze on you, a warm presence that added a layer of support.

Suddenly, a beat dropped, and Billie couldn’t resist. She started to sway, a playful grin lighting up her face as she danced around the studio, teasingly mimicking exaggerated drum moves. “Look at me! I’m a drummer now!”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you said, pausing to clap. “Truly, the world needed another self-proclaimed musician.”

“Careful,” she warned, stepping closer, “or I might just steal your thunder and become the next rock sensation.”

“Right. Billie Eilish: Drummer Extraordinaire. Just what the music industry needs.”

As the playful teasing continued, your focus shifted to the sounds of the outside world. You loved this quiet, suburban life—how it felt like a sanctuary, away from the chaos of fame and the relentless demands of the industry. Here, in your home, you could be yourself, sharing moments that felt genuine and unfiltered.

“Hey,” Billie said softly, breaking the playful tension, “what are you working on tonight? Any new beats?”

You sighed, pulling back slightly. “I’m trying to come up with something for my next project. I want it to feel… I don’t know, different. Like it’s something fresh.”

Billie stepped closer, resting her hands on the edge of the drum kit. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I could use a little inspiration myself.”

“Okay, but if you start judging my ‘paradiddles’ again, I’m kicking you out of the studio,” you replied, your tone light.

“Fair enough. Just don’t make me cry,” Billie shot back, a wink in her eyes.

With a mock salute, you returned to the drums, setting a new tempo. As you played, the rhythm enveloped you, and Billie’s presence transformed the atmosphere. You felt invigorated, the beats morphing into a flowing melody that echoed your shared life together.

Billie listened intently, her head nodding in time with the rhythm. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” she said, excitement bubbling in her voice. “You’ve got something special here!”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her encouragement wash over you. “Thanks, babe. It helps having you here. You always know how to inspire me.”

“I try,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice. “I mean, it’s not easy being this fabulous.”

“Fabulous? You’re practically dripping with sarcasm,” you retorted, laughter bubbling between you.

“Well, darling, if you can’t be fabulous, you might as well be funny.”

“Touché again,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “You really have a knack for this.”

As the night wore on, you transitioned into a more relaxed vibe, exchanging playful banter and soft kisses in between beats. The drumsticks danced through the air, while Billie hummed melodies that floated through the room, blending with the sound of the drums.

Eventually, you found yourselves nestled on the couch, a comfortable pile of limbs and laughter. The warmth of your shared space wrapped around you like a blanket, and Billie rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she murmured, “this is my favorite part of the day. Just being here with you, creating these moments.”

You glanced down, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I agree. There’s something magical about these nights.”

Billie lifted her head, her blue eyes shimmering with mischief. “But let’s be real, you just love that I’m here to keep you grounded, right?”

“Sure, that’s definitely the reason,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who wouldn’t want their rockstar girlfriend around to keep their ego in check?”

“Exactly! Just think of me as your personal assistant, but with pretty face.”

You both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. In those moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—lost in your cocoon of love and creativity.

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish imagine #lesbian #wlw post #wlw blog #sapphic

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onelittlespiral · 5 months ago

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Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#musk #male transformation #transformation #hypnosis #bro #jock #reality change #jockification #bogo #technology tf #male tf

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pepperonijem · 11 days ago

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II. the song's about to start (can you feel it?) || to.you

"... I'm about to fall for you."

summary: Creative constipation. That's what Levi calls the feeling he gets when he realizes he wants to write about how he feels about you. What does he feel about you? That's... inconclusive, he thinks. pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: alcohol consumption, levi is a bumbling mess of feelings, cursing songs mentioned: partners in crime - finneas, (only) about love -grentperez, buzz - niki || the title of this chapter comes from the song buzz

A/N: I've never written anything that made me blush and twirl my hair the way this chapter did. why am I the one catching feelings rn. should I post the playlist?

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter

Hange Zoe is the worst person to have in the car when all you want to do is think.

The thought popped into Levi’s mind as he swatted at a wandering hand reaching for the volume dial on his dashboard. A groan sounded from beside him and Levi rolled his eyes in return. Hange was a regular in the front seat of his car, and to his dismay, felt much too comfortable touching everything they could on the dashboard. Their chair was leaned back absurdly far and the vents on the air conditioning seemed pointed in every which direction.

“Levi, I like this song,” they huffed as they reached forward to mess with the volume again. With a sigh Levi gave in and looked forward to the drive home in silence.

He tapped his fingers against the wheel as Hange sang along. Croaked, more like. Hange had a melodic singing voice, but that wouldn’t be obvious to anyone hearing them right now. But Levi was used to this, and although he pretended to be annoyed by it, he really didn’t mind. He liked this song too and he hummed along, quiet enough that Hange wouldn’t notice.

“You couldn’t look any more like a lover Or a partner in crime Or something of mine”

The song ended and Hange reached over to turn the volume down. Levi was thankful, but realized if the radio volume went down, Hange’s would have an inverse effect. They looked over at Levi whose eyes were trained on the dark and empty 3 a.m. freeway ahead of him.

“You know,” Hange began with a smirk in their voice and Levi tensed, steeling himself for whatever nonsense would escape his friend’s lips. “Miche said he saw you dragging Eren’s friend upstairs earlier.” Levi’s hands grew tighter on the wheel and Hange didn’t miss the flush of red that appeared on his cheeks as Levi remembered the brief feeling of your skin on his. Hange’s laugh is grating, Levi thought.

He chose not to say anything. A mistake, really, as now Hange had found an opportunity to fill in the blanks on their own.

“Mr. Ackerman, I never took you for the frat-party quickie type,” Hange continued, laughing to themselves. “Especially not with people you write songs about.”

“Shut up,” Levi huffed. “It wasn’t a quickie, I was–”

“Oh so you took your time,” Hange cut him off with a playful slap to his shoulder. Somehow he felt his face heat up some more. Thankfully, they weren’t too far from Hange’s home.

“We were looking for those two other brats that hang around Eren,” Levi tried to speak up over the sound of his friend’s guffaws.

“I’m just teasing, you grump,” Hange finally relented. They waited a beat before continuing. “But that new song of yours was definitely about them right?”

Levi thought for a second before answering, even though he knew Hange already knew what he’d say. He simply nodded in response.

“Knew it,” They spoke again. The teasing lilt in their voice was replaced by something softer. “It’s been a while since you’ve written anything new. It felt new.”

“What do you mean?” Levi asked curiously. He’d always had a particular style when it came to writing songs, and Hange had known him long enough to see it become what it was. He didn’t particularly intend to write anything different, he just… wrote as he always did.

Hange leaned against the window, thinking to themself. “I’m not really sure myself,” they finally answered after a beat. “It just felt more like you, I guess.”

The last time Levi wrote a new song was when Erwin was still part of their band.

Last spring, right as the trees were beginning to turn into various shades of light pinks and pastels, Erwin asked them all to stay after practice to talk. It was an unusual rehearsal from the start, and Erwin seemed nervous much unlike his usual calm and collected self. His blonde hair was ever so slightly disheveled and he wore sweatpants instead of his nicer trousers that he usually wore to save time before heading to his office internship after practice.

Erwin clumsily missed notes that he had never missed before, and Levi was more shocked than anyone else to see the founder of their band fumble around like he’d never held a bass before. So when it came time for them to talk, Levi was intrigued and surprised again when he finally spoke.

“I’m getting married,” Erwin blurted out without his usual level of tact.

“You’re–”

“What–”

“Married–”

Hange, Miche, and Levi all spoke at once and Erwin let out a sigh of relief that melted into a soft laugh, as if a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

“Married?” Levi asked again.

Erwin nodded with a sheepish smile before explaining. “You’ve all met my girlfr— fiance before. We’re both graduating next semester. She got accepted to a music conservatory overseas and my internship offered me a position at their branch in the same city, it just feels like the stars were aligning. It all feels like a sign.” In the many years he’d made music with Erwin, learned his cues and learned his melodies, he saw that Erwin spoke with a twinkle in his eye that Levi had only ever seen when he spoke about his fiance.

“I’m sorry to announce I’m leaving the band like this,” Erwin continued. “But I’ll help you find a replacement before I leave. In fact, I already have someone in mind.”

That’s how they found Eren, a friend of Erwin’s fiance who played in the university orchestra with her. They watched his end of year recital and sat through his flawless performance of a cello concerto by Saint-Saëns. It all happened rather quickly after that and without even auditioning, the passionate but impulsive brat had become their new bassist.

After going out for a round of drinks at the local pub to celebrate Erwin’s news, Levi found himself outside on the patio, resting his elbows against the railing and thinking about all of this until a voice cut through his thoughts.

“Levi,” Erwin called as he moved to stand beside him. “What’s on your mind?”

He turned around to glance over at his friend. Erwin looked happier now, like he was constantly basking in the glow of something bright, and Levi supposed that in a way, he was. “What does it feel like?” Levi asked vaguely, but Erwin knew, as he usually did.

“It’s… hard to explain,” Erwin replied. Levi looked at him and waited for him to continue. “At first, it felt like… well you know, right before a show when we first turn on the amps? There’s a buzz, but it feels electric. It’s a little bit like that, anticipation because you know something good is about to happen.” Levi nodded thoughtfully at Erwin’s response as he continued. “Now it feels so big… like exploring space, if space was safe and warm.”

After a slight chuckle, a wave of silence washed over the two of them until Erwin spoke again. “Are you going to be okay?” Erwin glanced over at his friend.

“I will be,” Levi answered. “Will you?”

Erwin turned around to face the window and smiled to himself as he watched his fiance laugh at something Hange was saying. “I think so,” he said quietly. “But I’m happy to be here right now.”

“Yeah,” Levi agreed. “Me too.”

When Levi came home to his apartment that night, he reached for his guitar. He strummed quietly as he felt the familiar wash of inspiration take over him. A soft melody seemed to untangle itself into something that made sense in his head and soon, lyrics came along with it.

“Take my hand and come with me to another place We can walk around the universe tonight.”

He hoped he understood what Erwin had told him. Love as a concept was simple enough to put into an analogy, but difficult to really get, but for his friend, he’d try. He sent Erwin off later that spring with the lyrics and sheet music folded neatly in an envelope, a gift from Levi to the happy couple and felt satisfied leaving it at that between the two of them. And so it was, until Erwin asked him to play it at his wedding six months later. It was his first time singing a song without the rest of the band, but it didn’t feel as scary as he imagined it to be. It was like having a conversation, or writing a letter to his best friend. To Erwin.

He hadn’t written a song since then, not until he met you. Hange was right and the realization had heat seeping into his cheeks.

“Something something Halloween party,” Hange recalled the lyrics to his song. “That line about living in a VHS was pretty cute, what did you say to them to make you think of that one?”

“Nothing,” Levi replied and that was an answer enough on its own.

“Oh Levi,” Hange cooed as they pulled their glasses to sit on top of their hair to find a more comfortable way to drift off for the last few minutes of the ride, content to let Levi have a reprieve from the teasing.

After dropping off a drunk Hange and driving the hour back to his apartment, he couldn’t decide whether to grab his notebook and pen or his guitar. This was a rather frustrating dilemma to have. Usually, he’d feel something akin to lightning and either a simple line or a melody would come to him and he’d grab whatever vessel he needed to bring it alive.

The song he wrote about you two weeks ago began as lyrics first. He had watched you walk down the sidewalk in your pumpkin costume and groaned to himself as he realized half of your entire conversation was him saying, “cool.” He walked back into the party and through a sea of stupid costumes to find his guitar case and fished out the worn brown leather notebook that he always kept with him and grabbed a pen.

“I want to erase the things I said, but I’ll probably say them again. Wish I could hit rewind and not be so in my head.”

With a few tweaks and a chorus, it had become a song, and Levi was proud of himself. It wasn’t until after he had finally set his pen down and saw he’d written the words “I wouldn’t have let you go leave me,” that he wondered if he really felt that way or if it was just a good line.

At the next party, when you told him you liked the song, the song he wrote about you, he felt something else, and he wondered what to call the flutter he felt in his chest. Attraction, maybe? He learned about the feeling of attraction in class, how the spike in your heart rate and cortisol levels can be read as attraction in the right circumstances… or stress in the wrong ones. With his adrenaline running high after his performance, he decided that the evidence presented was too inconclusive to be labeled one way or another.

Now, he decided to grab his notebook to look back at the page he’d scribbled on, to see if something could give that final push for lightning to strike. He scoured the margins, looking through the various doodles and squiggles and crossed out words. It was incredibly frustrating, Levi thought, to have the desperate urge to write, but not know what to write. It’s probably because he still couldn’t figure out how he felt about you. Anxiety? Attraction? It was something new, but not something he knew how to explain. All he knew was that he wanted to write about you.

Nothing came to him even after flipping through his book, so with a sigh, he gave up and flopped onto his bed. His eyes fluttered shut and hoped inspiration would find him in his dreams.

The next morning, Levi woke up feeling unrested and uninspired. He was expecting to wake up with that familiar whisper of a new melody or a new lyric in his ear, but instead he woke up to the sound of thunder outside. He ran a frustrated hand down his face. Creative constipation, he thought to himself.

Then as he settled into his seat for his psych class, he found himself so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you call his name until you reached out and tentatively put your hand on his shoulder. The contact snapped his attention towards you and he felt a haze begin to clear.

“Levi?” you said his name with concern.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking,” he explained. “Did you need something?”

“I was going to ask if I could sit next to you,” you began before leaning in towards him and lowering your voice conspiratorially. He could smell your shampoo and the perfume you sprayed on this morning. He felt that flutter again. “Some rando took my seat beside Jean. I think they heard we were picking our partners for the project today.” You subtly gestured over to the girl in your usual seat who was staring intently at Jean who was staring intently at a Fortnite stream on his laptop.

Levi let out an amused chuckle before sliding his backpack off from the seat next to him and pulling it out for you to take. He watched you curiously as you sat down, trying to figure you out. Trying to figure out why he wanted to figure you out so desperately. He resisted the urge to look away when you smiled at him. All he could muster up to do was nod back and hope you didn’t notice him staring.

“So what is it that had you thinking so deeply,” you asked as you pulled your laptop out of your bag. Levi paused for a beat, wondering how to reply. He wasn’t particularly fond of letting people into his writing process. It felt too intimate. Even Hange and Miche had only ever looked into his notebook once and then decided it wasn’t worth being on the receiving end of Levi’s death glare (not to be confused with his usual resting neutral glare). For some reason, he felt as though you wouldn’t be too much of a threat to his creative process.

“I have to write about a feeling,” he began tentatively. “But I can’t really figure out what it is.”

“Oh is this for, like, an essay?” You asked. You tapped on your chin as you thought about what to say.

“Yeah, something like that.” “What’s the feeling?” you continued to ask. Levi found himself intrigued at your willingness to help him, but remembered how quickly you relent to offering your notes to Jean and Eren when they miss something. He figured it’s probably second nature for you.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure myself,” Levi answered, nervous that you’d see through his flimsy details. But this was the closest thing he could tell you without divulging his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure how much of a help you’d actually be. Songwriting, Levi recognized, was not something that everyone could do, but it was something he did well. He had a knack for being able to step into someone else’s shoes and write about their feelings. Like some sort of twisted empath, he could write a damn good love song without ever having been in love. He figured whatever higher being created him thought it would be funny to have such a stoic man only be able to express himself through a melody, like he was in some goddamn musical.

The other members of his band had a bit of experience writing as well, but their styles were different from Levi’s. They had a special knack for writing songs that sounded like them. Hange’s songs were always more upbeat and catchy, good for parties, and a little quirky. Miche’s songs were much more focused on the rhythm and had fewer lyrics. Eren, although only having written a couple of songs so far, definitely had a more angsty, grungy vibe. It was only from Erwin’s leadership that they all learned to blend their styles into something cohesive.

Most people outside of the band assumed that the majority of songs were written by Hange or Miche or even Eren now that he was part of it. But surprisingly, Levi was the real lyrical mastermind behind No Name, although he never opts to correct anyone who thinks otherwise.

“Just write it down,” you replied as if it was the most simple answer. “Even if the feeling doesn’t have a name, you’ll get the point across.” When you looked over to see Levi eyeing you skeptically, you continued.

“Not all feelings have a name,” you went on. “Like the feeling when you’re about to turn a door handle into a surprise party you knew about, or like when you get the first cup of hot coffee for the season because it’s finally cold enough outside for it. It’s like you know it’s the start of something new, something good.”

Levi could see warmth flashing in your eyes as he watched you list these feelings. It reminded him of Erwin’s words that night. Something about anticipation…

There it was. Lightning. His head shot up as you spoke and you turned to him with wide eyes. You watched as he reached for his notebook and began scribbling into his notebook. Before you could ask him more about it, the sound of the professor’s voice filled the room. Levi, however, did not lift his head.

“It’s the feeling of the first coffee run in autumn – can you feel it?”

The last part was a question for himself.

Sure enough, today was the day project partners were being assigned and although Levi spent the majority of the class writing madly into his journal, his ears perked up at the announcement.

“Since you’re all adults and there’s over 60 of you in this class, it’s easier for everyone to just partner up with their current desk partner.” Levi turned and met your eyes and you both let out a sigh of relief. He was glad it was you.

He managed to set his pen down as the professor continued to explain the assignment. “This project is about relationships,” he announced as he walked down the aisle to hand papers out to the class. “For the rest of the semester, you’re going to be getting to know your partner and hopefully yourself, quite well. Hopefully, if nothing else, you can leave the class with a new friend.”

The both of you turned your heads at the sound of Eren groaning as he looked over at Jean. Jean looked wistfully at the girl who stole your seat – unfortunately, she was in a separate desk cluster. Levi was thankful that things worked out the way they did.

Levi watched you stifle a chuckle and pass him the worksheet. He scanned over the paper. It was mostly blank, save for a few sentences of instructions and two sections of items to note.

Under the first section were three items: First impressions of your partner? Who do you think you are? How do you think others see you?

The second section simply stated: At the end of this project, reflect on your earlier impressions and see how they’ve changed. What’s changed about how you see your partner? How they see you? How you see yourself? What social theories or effects do you believe may have affected this change?

“You get out of this project what you put into it,” the professor stated. “The more time you spend with your partner, the more change you’ll see in any or all of the criteria. However, if you decide not to spend any time with them after the initial meeting, you still have some theories to write about.” He chuckled to himself as he scanned the students’ faces.

He continued on. “There’s no criteria for how much or how you spend time with your partner outside of being safe and respectful. But I suggest you do things together that mean something to you. Be intentional with the time you spend together.”

Levi’s previous feelings of relief had suddenly dissipated as quickly as they came. This was a rather intimate project, and although the questions seemed simple enough, being in this class for the semester taught him nothing was ever psychologically simple. He snuck a quick glance over at you, busy writing your name on the top of your paper and writing down quick reminders to yourself in the margins of your notebook where you had neatly organized your notes from class. Your cheeks were pink, and so were the tips of your ears. He was sure his were too.

He looked down at his own notebook, filled with nothing that could help him on an exam. But he had half a song written down.

It wasn’t until the professor had dismissed the class and Levi was setting his things back in his bag that you finally turned up to look at him with your phone out towards him. “Before you head out, can I get your number?” you asked.

“Sure thing,” Levi reached out for your phone, accidentally brushing his fingers against yours in the process. There was that flutter again, but Levi was ready to chalk this one up to stress. Until he caught a glimpse of your tinted cheeks and suddenly he was at a loss once again. He focused back on the phone long enough to put his number in before handing it back to you, letting his fingers brush yours once again. For research purposes, he had said to himself. Results still inconclusive.

That afternoon, Levi sat at his desk with the worksheet in front of him. The first question seemed easy enough to answer. He didn’t need to think too hard before writing a response.

First impressions of your partner:

He thought back to his first time seeing you in class. Did that even count? All he ever saw was the back of your head and the way you would raise your hands to rub at your temples at the end of class as you slid your notebook for Jean to take pictures of. He picked up his pen anyway. Begrudgingly kind, he wrote.

The first time he really saw you was that night at Eren’s party. You were quick to laugh at his jokes, and quicker to add on. And later, he watched as you danced with Jean, who Levi watched get shot down by a blonde girl who was clearly more interested in the girl with her, even in your stupid pumpkin costume that stood out like a sore thumb. There was something about you that drew people in, he realized. Charming, good friend, obnoxious.

He thought about when you finally left that evening to go study. Hard-working, warm.

The next questions were a lot more difficult to answer.

Who do you think you are?

“Annoyed, mostly,” he muttered aloud as he forced himself to try to think. Although he had a knack for writing about other people, he wasn’t a huge fan of introspection. A musician, he wrote simply. I’m good at what I do, and I do what I’m good at. Simple. Blunt. Clean. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, he thought.

How do you think others see you?

This was such a dumb question, Levi thought to himself. He never really cared about how other people saw him. Hange always said it was one of his charms, especially on stage, and he agreed. His Twitter DMs seemed to agree as well. But a question was a question, and he wasn’t going to hurt his stellar grade over a dumb question. Charismatic, quiet, intense, cold.

He finally set his pen down and picked up his phone to see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey Levi, are you free this evening?

Before Levi could feel confused at who the hell would be so bold as to message him like this, you quickly sent a follow up text with your name and Levi scoffed. He was amused. He saved your number before replying to you.

Levi: Sure Levi: Did you want to do something?

He didn’t wait long for a response as you quickly texted him an address and a time. The campus cafe, which thankfully was near his apartment, at 7 p.m. so he still had a few hours before he had to meet you. He pulled out his lyrics notebook and looked back at what he’d written during class. It felt like it was coming together and Levi felt content as he grabbed his acoustic and began to strum absentmindedly, trying to figure out what his words sounded like in a melody. It was something simple, but he was happy with it. Hange was right, this song felt like him.

For the first time in a long time, he was writing about himself.

When Levi walked into the cafe promptly at 7 p.m., he let out a soft sigh. The smell of pastries, cinnamon, and coffee wrapped around him like a comforting embrace and he took a moment to appreciate the smells of autumn. He scanned around the cafe and found you sitting at a booth by the window, staring out at the street. Now that October had passed, the jack-o-lanterns and skeletons had been replaced with the warm glow of fairy lights and other various holiday decor. As he walked towards you, he found himself catching his breath at the warm glow the lights left on your skin. Pretty, he thought to himself. When you finally turned your head and caught his eye, you smiled at him with a wave. As pretty as he thought you were looking away from him, it had nothing on the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Hey Levi,” you greeted as he finally made it to your table. He unwrapped his scarf from his neck and slipped out from his coat, setting them both neatly beside him on the leather seat of the booth. “I went ahead and ordered a little bit before you got here. Figured you’d look forward to something warm to fight the cold.” You gestured at the cream colored mugs that sat on the table and Levi cautiously inspected the one in front of him. The steam still rose from its contents and the smell of Earl Grey tea made his shoulders relax. He wasn’t a coffee person.

“Thanks,” Levi replied softly. “How’d you uh, how’d you know I prefer tea?”

You blushed as you looked away. “I was a little nervous,” you began, your attention once again on the sights outside. “I texted Eren on the way here and asked what kind of drink you preferred.”

Levi felt himself blush and was thankful that you weren’t looking directly at him. He scoffed before taking a sip of his tea. Seems like Eren pays attention. “Nervous, huh?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as teasing as it did.

You finally turned your attention back to him. “Yeah,” you chewed your lip. “This is kind of an intimate project. Did you see the questions? It felt like some sort of first date survey.”

He nearly choked on his next sip. You were right, and now that you had pointed it out, Levi couldn’t help but fixate on the idea. A first date, he repeated to himself. He hoped the mug hid his blush.

“We don’t have to think of it that way,” you quickly added. Levi let out a soft chuckle at your panic. “I mean, not that it would be terrible, but this is for class so I think we can keep it professional and then be friends, which I guess would not really be prof-”

“You’re rambling,” Levi cut you off. He felt relieved that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous about all of this, but he also took note of how you said it wouldn’t be terrible for this to be a date. He let out a sigh and set his mug down. “There’s no pressure at all. We can spend as much or as little time together as you’re comfortable with, and how we spend that time doesn’t have to be anything in particular. We could study, talk, or just sit here in silence too, if you wanted.” He hoped of course, that he’d see you more often, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. He knew people saw him as somewhat unapproachable. Even people who scream his name at performances seem to tense up and freeze when they see him on campus. He didn’t want you to be one of them.

To his credit, his words did seem to have an effect on you and he watched your shoulders begin to relax as you reached for your own mug to take a sip. “Thanks,” you began. “Sometimes I get too in my own head. But you’re right. No pressure.”

Glad that you were finally more relaxed, he let a beat of silence sit comfortably between the two of you. When he first met you at that party, you seemed a lot more sure of yourself, not that you seemed unconfident now, but more that you handled interactions with new people in a charming, easy way that he couldn’t. It made him relax knowing he wasn’t the only one who tends to overthink things. He made a mental note to write that down for his assignment later.

It was much easier to just talk after that. Levi felt he had finally redeemed himself after that night where all he could say was “cool.” He was a man of few words… but not that few.

You told Levi about how you’d met Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. How Armin had come up to you at recess in elementary school after you had just moved to town and asked about the book you were reading. He was the first to speak to you, and Mikasa was the first to drag you along to their adventures. Eren, who was your next door neighbor, had declared himself your older brother when he found out you didn’t have one. “Everyone should have a big brother,” he had decided at 9 years old.

Levi told you about the band, why it was called No Name in the first place. He had started the band in high school with his best friends and kept it going since they somehow ended up at the same university. Hange wanted to call themselves The Titans “because it’s funny. Because you’re short.” And when Levi pounced across the table, Miche suggested The Walls which Levi hated even more. It wasn’t until Erwin dragged him back to his seat on the couch of Erwin’s apartment that Erwin decided, “If we can’t decide on a name, then we go with No Name.” And that was that.

Levi had found himself smiling at the memory, and chuckled at how long ago that was. Now, somehow, he had become the leader of the band, filling in Erwin’s role as a singer and at times, a mediator.

It was easy to be nostalgic with you, but maybe it was the tea, or the fairy lights that set him up. It wasn’t until both your mugs were halfway empty after a refill that Levi remembered to ask. “So why a cafe?” he asked curiously.

Your eyes lit up as you began to speak. “Oh, right,” you began. “Remember how we were talking earlier about feelings that don’t have a name and I mentioned the first coffee run in autumn?” Levi nodded. “Well, I finally had some time today, and I thought I’d invite you to join me so you could feel it firsthand.”

Now that it was November, it was well past Levi’s first run to the cafe. In fact, he’d been here at least twice a week since September.

“I know that it’s really late into the season,” you spoke again as if you knew what he was thinking. “And I’ve had plenty of coffee since September. But I’d just been so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to actually sit down inside a cafe and enjoy a cup of coffee.” You smiled as you looked down into your mug.

This is nice, Levi thought to himself. “So what are you feeling?” Levi probed as he recalled your words from earlier. Something new, something good. This was definitely that.

“Like life is about to fall into place.”

Later that evening, Levi found himself itching for his phone to text you.

It had only been an hour since the two of you parted ways after he walked you to your car, but he already found himself thinking about when he would see you again. You were easy to talk to but you didn’t mind when he only had a few words to say either. It felt easy. He hadn’t been on many first dates but he knew that none of them had him feeling this way afterwards.

Levi: Hey Levi: Are you free tomorrow? We can meet again if you want.

Tomorrow? My place?? Levi had sent the message before he could think too hard about it. He shoved his phone under his pillow and walked out to the kitchen of his apartment. He grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the island, running a hand down his face. He took a sip and began to pace back and forth.

Like a phone toss when it’s risky but you hit send.

He ran to his desk, momentarily forgetting about the phone, and wrote down the line. And another one. And another one. Until finally, he had a song. He took a deep breath before reaching under his pillow for his phone.

Coffee Addict (psych): I’m not busy :) where do you want to meet?

He thought for a second before an idea popped into his head.

Levi: You know the music studies building? Meet me on the basement floor.

And so the next day he found himself sitting on the floor across from you in a cramped practice room with his hands clasped on his lap. He’s not really sure what had come over him last night after asking you to meet him, but he can’t say he regretted inviting you either. In fact, he woke up bright and early, feeling that flutter again as he thought of seeing you.

“This is cozy,” you joked as you looked around. The room really was cramped, and with a standing piano against one wall of the room, it made it feel even smaller. He wasn’t used to sharing this space with other people, but he didn’t really mind sharing it with you.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry it’s cramped, I know,” he acknowledged. “I just… I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?” you asked. “What is it?”

Levi looked up at the piano before standing up and offering his hand out to you. A buzz in his fingertips. A flutter in his stomach. He sat down on the piano bench and patted the space beside him to his right. The bench was wide enough to fit both of you, but Levi didn’t miss the feeling of your leg pressed against his. Before he could overthink himself into a panic, he stretched his fingers over the keys and began to play.

“It’s the anticipation when the amps turn on Just cables and crackle. It’s the first flicker of the neon sign It’s the words stuck in your Adam’s apple.”

He glanced over at you before continuing on to the next verse. Your hands fidgeted in your lap, but you watched as his fingers moved across the keys.

“It’s a bumblebee on a blossom The first coffee shop run in autumn.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide as you recognized your own words.

“The song’s about to start, can you hear it? The door’s about to open, can you feel it? The flower’s about to fruit, can you see it? I’m about to fall for you.”

A buzz. A flutter. He knew what this was.

“About to fall for you.”

a/n: some more fun facts! This chapter was so fun to write. 1) Eren, who'd never admit it out loud, actually knows all his friends' go-to drinks. He often brings his bandmates drinks as apology for being late to practice 2) Armin is the biggest social butterfly of the group. He's just really kind and disarming. 3) I gave myself butterflies writing the scene where Levi is playing on the piano with you beside him.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x you #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #aot x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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miniwheat77 · 2 years ago

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Lust. (141 x Reader.)

The gang bang version to this is here

!CW! NSFW, Smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, porn without plot, read at your own risk. (Lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): After a hard mission, task force 141 has to find creative ways to relieve tension.

This was a requested story, you can find the ask here

The small room everyone was in was filled with the smell of rotting wood and dust. Everyone was covered in dirt and sweat, a little dried blood.

“Exfil can’t get to us until morning, settle in.”

Those were your Captain’s instruction, so everyone did. You took up one small corner of the room you were in. The house you were in was in the middle of the desert, the furthest thing away from any threats. Most of the house was leaky and some parts of the roof had caved in, leaving the entire task force to one room. There was an old couch, and everyone had set up around you, almost in a circle. All you had was a sleeping bag and an emergency blanket for comfort so you laid them both out. It was still too warm so you were sitting on top of it. You tried getting comfortable but it was a little hard. Everyone had a couple emergency MRE’s and first aid kits. You tended to your wounds, patched up, and ate one of the MRE’s.

“I don’t have sweats or extra clothes in my bag so you’ll all just have to be okay with me sleeping in my boxers.” Soap calls out.

“That’s fine, no one cares.” You call out. “Use a buddy system if you have to go outside to relieve yourself or for any other reason.” Your captain calls. He’s laying on his own sleeping bag a couple feet from you. Soap starts removing his clothes, tucking them near his bag and laying down. The room fills with an awkward silence and everyone shifts uncomfortably. It was clear no one would be getting much rest. A deep sigh brings everyone out of their own thoughts. “Maybe we should do something. Like.. play a game.” Soap says. “What, like one of those ridiculous games you played in grade school?” You laugh. “You got any better ideas?” Soap rolls his eyes. “Not really. I’m in.” You shrug.

“Truth or dare?”

“Can’t really do many dares, Soap.” You laugh. He smiles. “Alright alright, truth or truth?” You laugh, sitting up in your sleeping bag. Everyone follows suit. “I think I seen some old bottles of vodka in the kitchen. Maybe we can do a drinking game like never have I ever.” Gaz suggests. You nod your head, standing up. “Captain could probably pick out good liquor. He’d be able to tell which is good to drink and what’s bad.” You smile. “Damn right little lady.” John pushes past you, you follow him into the dingy kitchen and he opens up a couple cupboards, finding 2 unopened bottles of liquor. Gin and Vodka. “Alright. We’ll just pass around the bottle.” You nod your head. “Before we start I’m ditching my clothes too.” You complain. They were dirty and had blood all over them. “Yeah me too.” Gaz complains. Pretty soon everyone is just sitting in their undergarments. Most of you were pretty beat up. Bandages and cuts and bruises all over.

Each of you form a circle and John picks up a bottle.

“Alright so.. if you don’t already know, never have I ever works like this. Someone asks a question, and if you’ve done it, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t.” You explain. Everyone nods.

“Alright, I’ll go first. A warm up question.” Gaz sits up. “Never have I ever… been stuck in a dingy house in the middle of a desert.”

Each of you pass around the bottles of liquor.

“Bloody hell that is shite.” Captain Price flinches. He lowers the bottle of gin from his lips and shivers. “Steamin Jesus that is horrible.” Soap laughs, passing the bottle of vodka to you. You take it, tipping it back. Flinching as you set it down. “Alright. Soap, your turn.” Soap laughs. “Alright uh..” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Never have I ever gotten into a fight.”

Everyone passes around the bottles again.

This goes on for a few more times and everyone is starting to feel buzzed, loosening up. “Okay, Y/N.”

“Never have I ever had a dirty dream about someone in this room.” You smile. “Ooooh. That’s a good one.” Gaz laughs. Your captain, Soap, and Ghost each take a drink.

The game goes on like this until most of the liquor is gone. Everyone settling into their own little worlds. Playing on their phones, reading. Or just relaxing. The same tension is still thick in the room, everyone can read it. “Alright. I hate this. Let’s try something else.” Your captain says, sitting up. “What do you mean?” Gaz laughs, taking a breath. “I was thinking we find another way to relieve some tension.”

“What, a gang bang?” Gaz jokes. “Hate to break it to you cap, but I don’t think poor Y/N could handle that.” Your mouth props open and your cheeks burn. “I like your taste Garrick, but that’s not what I meant. I mean.. similar. But.. less hands on.” Ghost pulls off his mask, this wasn’t the first time you’d each seen his face. “Are you suggesting we.. touch ourselves?” Soap asks. John nods his head. Everyone steals glances at each other. “If everyone is okay with it, I suppose.” Everyone makes a silent agreement and relax into their sleeping bags. You swallow hard, seeing each of them release their throbbing cocks from their refinement. You play with your fingers, hiding the fact that your cotton panties are soaked in arousal. “You alright lass?” Soap laughs. His hand is already pumping the shaft of his cock. “Uh.. y-yeah. I just..” you pause. “It’s okay to be nervous sweetheart.” Gaz breathes. By now, even Ghost has shed his boxers. You’re the only one still wearing any clothing.

“Let us guide you yeah? No need to be nervous.” Your captain smiles. He’s closest to you, so he moves himself near you. “May I?” He asks, fingertips moving toward your panties. You nod your head. He grasps them, sliding them down your legs. “You touch yourself before?” He asks. You nod your head skeptically. He smiles. “S’alright. Just pretend like the room is empty yeah? You don’t have to if you don’t want to though.” You nod your head. He moves back to his sleeping bag, starting to glide his own hand over his cock. “Start slow.” Simon is looking you in the eyes as he pumps his cock slowly. You nod your head, fingers skeptically gliding along your stomach. “Rub small circles over your clit. You can slide lower if it’ll help.” You’re surprised how vocal Simon is to you. But he can see how nervous you are. You start slow like he said, body relaxing as you spread your legs further. When you look up, you can see that each of their eyes are fixed on you, making you a little self conscious, crimson creeping up your cheeks. You need to relax, so you let their small groans egg you on. Your fingers dip inside of your soaking hole, a collection of moans filling the room as you do. Simon spits into his hand, the squelch of it drawing moans from your mouth.

“Fuck.. so pretty.” Soap gasps, eyes on you. You’re breathing hard, your free hand moving to rub at your clit. Simon tilts his head back against the wall he’s leaning up against, a groan leaving his lips. Soap is leaning up against the couch, thumb gliding over the tip of his cock to gather the precum from the tip. Gaz watches you intently, hips bucking with each jerk of his hand. Your captain has his eyes on you as well. Hand working up his cock steadily. He keeps the same pace, stomach clenching up. A mewl falls from your lips and your body starts to shake slightly, a chuckle falling from each of their lips. “So eager to cum.” Gaz laughs. “Yeah she is. S’quite the sight.” Simon let’s out a deep chuckle. “Relax Y/N. No need to rush.” You try to let their voices soothe you, slowing your movements. “Slow down, try curling your fingers.” Soap instructs.

“Ah- like this Johnny?” You whimper. The way his name rolls off of your lips has his dick jumping in his hand. “Yeah sweetheart. Just like that.” He growls. His eyes are burning into you, you’ve collected the stares of each of them as you bury your fingers into your wet cunt. “Regretting not taking Garricks gang bang idea.” John chuckles, drawing small laughs from everyone in the room except for you. You’re too focused on the way your fingers are moving into yourself. “Almost busted when she said my name like that.” Soap laughs. Hand still steadily stroking his cock. Simon laughs, adjusting his position. “Y/N, you feeling good sweetheart?” He tests the waters, trying to get you to say his name. “Y-yeah. Feels so good Simon.” You pant, He raises his eyebrows slightly, groaning out. Soap chuckling when he catches onto what he’s doing. “Fuck that’s hot.” Simon groans.

Your moans are getting louder, unsteady. Your fingers are working at your pussy faster than before. You were getting close, they could tell. “S’alright love. You can cum for us. Show us what a good girl you’ve been yeah?” John breathes. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate and you’re working at your clit with your free hand, a mewl leaving your lips as you buck your hips into your hand. “Ah- I- I’m-“ you can’t finish your sentence, a cry leaving your lips as you reach your high, soaking your hand and your emergency blanket beneath you. Moans still spilling from your blushing lips. “Oh fuck-“ Gaz groans. He’s the first of the men to reach his own high, ropes of cum spilling from his cock and coating his front. He jerks himself off faster than he intends, bucking his hips as he pumps himself through his high. He relaxes, head tilting back as he pants, coming down from his high. Soap is next. Unsteady pants, each louder than the last as he finishes up his own front, he’s a lot more vocal than Gaz, groaning out as he finishes. “Fuck!” He gasps. Relaxing back into the couch. Your eyes draw from Soap to your Captain, hearing him moan out. He reaches his high, gritted teeth holding back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. His cock throbs against his hand with each spurt of his cum that covers his thighs and stomach. “Fucking hell-“ he gasps.

Finally, eyes fixed on Simon as he pumps his cock. Your clit is still throbbing as you stare, watching the cum spill from the tip of his cock. His head is tilted back and you’re watching as his adams apple bobs as he swallows back the whimpers he’d usually let out. He hisses as his hips jump, finishing up his front.

Each of you relax into yourselves, the room feeling hot and thick with arousal. Nobody says anything as each of you clean up, settling into your makeshift beds for the night. The silence is a comfortable silence, and everyone seems much more relaxed than before, leaving your captain feeling better about the welfare of his team. Each of you fall asleep with no words exchanged, and every single one of you had a new secret to take to the grave.

Or maybe, another game of never have I ever.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #soap smut #simon ghost riley #ghost smut

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gamblersdoll · 4 months ago

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Omg I asked so many people. Cause I need this. I even asked a mxm blog... Omg I am so embarrassed

Non alcoholic shy reader and neighborhood big bro satoru.

Context.

Reader is new in the building. And the grandma gives her alcohol and alcohol based food. Since the granny is the nicest woman alive. So, reader gives the food and alcohol to gojo. But one day, things escalated and he took her virginity.

he was a big brother to everyone, always preaching wisdom and how to do things in creative and certain ways— since he supposedly “went through the same thing last year or two years ago.”

yet, he had his eyes dead set on you, ever since you moved to the big house that almost everyone wanted. they questioned how you were able to afford it, yet, they praised you more. the house was nice, had a nice pool in the back. with a big, nice balcony overhead the patio. on top of that, it was much more spacious on the inside than out, it almost felt surreal when you stepped in.

and on top of that, you had already liked your neighbors. this one grandmother and gigi next door loved and adored you. you were of age and weening off the liquid alcohol, so you only really ate anything that wasnt too strong or no alcoholic based food or beverages. luckily, you found satoru who actually enjoyed it— she didnt mind, of course. she treated you like her own, always looking forward to sitting with her on a rocking chair drinking a arnold palmer.

yet, you were still excited to see this party down at some house that was obviously satorus’. you did feel nervous at first, no lying there. hell, you were new, so was it a problem?

the wall’s reverberated with the music, the hum and the rough beat pulsing through your veins all around you. you looked around yourself, damn. maybe everyone in the neighborhood was a alcoholic or just turned eighteen. you couldnt tell, the way they had two cups in hand and drank from both of them. on top of that, they mixed white alcohol and brown, like fucking idiots.

yet, again. both his ocean eyes and your colored ones were locked onto each other, leaving leading glances from across the room until he was buzzing to come over to you.

“new girl.” he chortled, leaning down to your face and holding his cup. you smelled it— yeah, that was malibu and henny mixed together.. idiot. he was more than buzzing, drunk even maybe. “you– doing alright?”

“yeah, i’m good.” you replied, watching how the tips of his ears were red and his nose looking like rudolf.

it felt like nothing was ever there, like no one was there. the way his lips crashed down to yours, a hand on your hip and him giggling in the kiss. “been meaning to ask how you greet people!” he tipsily says, ruffling your hair and taking his leave.

yet, something felt like he tells you to follow him.

so you, a girl that was so easy to get her heart racing, followed him to some random vacant room. he only giggled and hiccuped when you spoke about your move and how you only just started your freshman year of college, and he swirled his drink in the cheap plastic red cup.

he nods every now and again, a hand inching up your thigh and resting his head on your shoulder. it got you running hot, feeling how much thicker the air was and how his breathing matched yours. another hand groped a breast, him whining yet moaning at the contact.

his nips at your neck, snickering when you rambled about “what are you doing?” or whatever you said. he didnt care.

he simply knew that it would be a good idea to claim you before anyone else did.

and thats how you got here, a drunken satoru gojo between your legs. ontop of that, he was eating your pussy– no, slobbering all over it. was that what alcohol did to people? make their arousals more potent and make them more nasty than anything? hell if you fucking knew it.

his fingers were covered in what you truthfully believed was his spit, but it was ninety percent spit, ten percent arousal from you. and he piston it into your clenched walls.

he scooted up to your face, leaving a sloppy kiss on you lips, then your cheek as he slips himself in, until you hissed and tapped on him.

“whats wrong?” he asks, stopping himself and looking into your eyes. “too big?”

“no– well, maybe…” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away. “just.. go slow.”

his eyes dilate, he instantly knew what that meant.

you were a virgin, and you were allowing hims to take your virgin mary body and ravage it with all of his might. he grits his teeth, keeping himself from groaning and rolling his eyes back.

he does as promised, slipping away into your velvet walls and keeps himself there, allowing your shaking legs to subside and giving pepper kisses along your jaw to soothe your aching. you look up, nodding your head.

“you can, start now.” you pause in between, moaning instantly as you feel him pull away, slamming himself back in.

it felt pornographic the way his thrusts were, the ‘plap, plap, plaps’ that echoed and your moans drowned out by the music of eight bit playing in the back, it also felt so lewd the way your breasts bounced up from the sheer force of the ravaging nine inches he gave you.

and be damned if he could draw a orgasm while having you cream all over him. because thats what just happened whenever he hit that spot that does feel foreign at first, but with the way his mean fat tip was, it felt like heaven. and he was no better, deciding that since it was your first time, he would spurt himself all on your pretty nipples.

yet, usually he never went for the experienced women, because he knows once you start having sex, you crave it more than anything.

fortunately for you, he would enjoy you.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x black reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo smut #gojo x you #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #dvorahasks

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actuallysaiyan · 9 months ago

Note

hello! any fics/headcanons on dropping by high school nanami’s dorm room would be wonderful 🫶

warnings: mentions of being promoted, Reader and Kento are both 18!!! In their last year of being at JJT, smut, kissing, vaginal fingering, dirty talk word count: 1.6k pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader summary: Kento just found a box set of 1980s Astro Boy and he wants you to come over to watch it with him! a/n: I wasn't sure what you wanted for this, so I took some creative liberties and rolled with it. I wanted it partly smutty and partly fluffy. I hope you all enjoy!

It was a quiet Saturday night in your dorm room. You sit on your bed, watching reruns of your favorite sitcom. Considering this was your last year at Jujutsu Tech, you knew that things would mostly be a breeze. You’ve been on more missions this year than any other year, but it still felt so much easier than training and learning theory.

Your phone buzzes and your eyes gaze at it for a moment. Then your heart skips a beat when you see who’s sent you a text. Immediately, you open your phone and read the text.

Kento(8:45 pm): Hey are you still around? Or did you leave campus for tonight?

You(8:46 pm): I’m still here. What’s up?

Your heart is racing as you try to come to terms with the fact that your ultimate crush is texting you. You two are close, but he has no idea just how much you’re head over heels for him. He messages you again, mentioning that he’s managed to acquire the DVD box set of Astro Boy from the 1980s. You message him back, asking if you can come over and watch it with him.

Kento(8:50pm): Why don’t you come over right now? I’m just waiting in my dorm.

It doesn’t take much for you to reply that you’ll be over in a few minutes. You throw on a comfy hoodie and you turn off your devices. Then you grab some snacks from your drawer and you head out. With your door locked behind you, you walk down the hallway towards the boys’ side of the dorms.

You knock on his door, admiring the way he’s placed band stickers and mini posters on it to give it some personality. Your smile spreads further when you see him open the door. He looks really cozy right now; dressed in a band hoodie and some sweatpants.

“Are you ready to watch this with me?” He shows you the box set.

“Fuck yeah! I didn’t even think you’d manage to find it!”

Kento smirks, “I’ve got my sources, darling.”

He invites you inside and you feel immediately at home. It’s so cozy in his dorm room. You’ve been here more times than you can count, considering you two are so close, but this is just so special for you. You place your bag of snacks on the coffee table and you sit on the sofa. Kento joins you, but not before he puts the first disc of Astro Boy into the DVD player. You two are sitting so close together, your knees brush up together.

“Thanks for inviting me over.” you bubble, leaning in close to him.

“It’s really no problem.”

The DVD menu starts up and Kento selects the play all function. Then you both sit back, watching the anime you both had been wanting to see for so long. It has become a bit of a tradition for you and Kento to watch anime together. This time, it felt a bit more intimate somehow. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like you and him had these feelings just bubbling underneath the surface.

Eventually, he turns to you and offers you a soda. You accept with a smile on your face. Things are quiet and comfortable while in his dorm, until he stretches his arms and wraps one around your shoulders. You lean your head to nuzzle against his as you both continue to watch the show that’s unfolding before you on the screen.

“You know…” he whispers softly. “I’m glad we can still have nights like these.”

You turn to face him, “Me too, Ken. Especially since we both got promoted to Grade one recently.”

This makes both of your stomachs flutter. It was a serious move to be promoted to such a rank, but you two were the exemplary sorcerers for this position. Both you and Kento showed lots of strength, courage and ability. It took little to no time to go from Semi-Grade one to Grade one. And now you both were going on missions together, taking down curses together.

“I need to tell you something,” he finally starts up again. “It’s important.”

You turn to face him fully, your heart racing. He looks so good in just the glow of the television and the soft fairy lights he has strung up over the couch. He smiles sweetly before he cups your chin and his thumb strokes your cheek.

“Even if we end up on different paths,” he leans in closer. “I’ll always love you.”

Without another word, he presses his lips to yours. You feel like butterflies are erupting deep in your tummy. Time almost seems to slow down as you finally gain the courage to kiss him back. Your hands come up to begin playing with his hair. When he pulls away, he rubs his nose against yours.

“You’ve always been my pretty girl, yeah?”

You can’t help but nod. It takes so little effort for him to push you down onto the couch, pinning you there. Despite his slim build, Kento is very strong and muscular. He just hides it well. Then once he has you in the position he wants, he begins to undress you. Your eyes shine in the glow of the TV, and it turns him on even more. Something about this moment is just so special.

“I’m always going to be yours,” you promise as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He nips softly at the tender flesh, making you moan his name. Your legs wrap around him, wanting nothing more than to be as close to him as possible. He smirks against your skin, knowing just how needy you are for him now. He’s feeling just the same; needy and wanton for the woman he’s fallen for so deeply.

“Can I show you just how much you mean to me?” He asks, his eyes dark with lust.

You smirk, “Oh yeah? How will you do that?”

He’s feeling like you’re challenging him now, and that turns him on even more. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. You moan at the feeling of him taking complete control of the situation. Then his other hand unclasps your bra and pulls it off completely. Your breasts spring free, bouncing slightly from being freed from their confines. You whine softly; your body heating up at the sensation of being half-naked in front of him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” He grunts before dipping down to capture one of your nipples into his mouth.

You buck up immediately, wanting nothing more than to bury your fingers in his beautiful blond hair. But he still has you pinned down to the couch, and his tongue is flicking against your nipples. He doesn’t even have to do much to turn you on, but he’s working hard on making you so aroused. He pulls away slightly, blowing air on your erect nubs.

“Pretty girl,” he coos softly. “Such a pretty princess for me.”

You whine again, begging him not to stop. He leans back in, sucking on your tits. He makes it messy and sloppy, nipping and biting at the tender flesh. His intent is now to turn you on and to mark you up. He wants you to see yourself in the mirror tomorrow and to see these love marks. They are the marks you’ll wear on your body to show the world who you belong to.

“Ken, please…”

He chuckles darkly, “What is it, princess?”

You mewl, “Please Ken I…”

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

Your mind is almost blank with just how much this is all turning you on. He’s usually quiet and sometimes stoic. But right now, Kento Nanami was a different man. You had heard rumors that he was a closeted pervert, but this was proving to be somewhat true. The way he was touching you and caressing you, it seems like he knows a thing or two about pleasuring a woman.

“I need you to touch me,” you breathe.

He chuckles again, then he presses his lips to yours. Your two stay connected like this for a few moments; tongues rubbing together sensually. When he pulls away to let you breathe, a string of saliva keeps you connected.

“Alright, you need me that bad, huh?”

You nod your head, “Need you so bad, Ken…”

His free hand slides down your body, caressing you in your sensitive spots. Then he slips his hand into your sweatpants, gasping softly when he feels that you aren’t wearing panties. He grunts as his long fingers spread your wet folds, prodding your tight entrance. Kento smirks, his eyes growing even darker with lust.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” He asks, rubbing your clit slowly.

You shudder, “M-maybe…”

You let out a moan of his name as one of his fingers slips into your tight cunt. Immediately your gummy walls begin to squeeze the digit and this makes him grunt. He releases your wrists to reach down to adjust his cock in his gray sweatpants. Then his eyes snap up to watch you as he fingers you.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, probably would make me blow my load in seconds.”

His words rile you up even more. Your hips begin gyrating against his hand, and he’s quick to slip a second finger into your pussy. Your juices begin gushing out of your slick hole, and you feel yourself growing closer to your orgasm faster than you ever thought would happen.

“Awhhh close already? Damn, princess, that’s flattering.” He goads. Your hand comes to cling to his arm, steadying him and yourself for the impending orgasm that’s on its way.

He moves his thumb to begin swiping against your clit and the added stimulation is what sends you over the edge. You cry out and whimper as the waves of pleasure crash over you. The entire time, Kento is right there, talking you through the intense pleasure. When you’ve ridden out your high, he leans in to kiss you so softly.

“My beautiful girl…I love you so.”

#bacon.writes #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami smut #kento x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n #Kento Nanami x you #Kento Nanami x reader #nanami imagine #nanami fluff #Kento Nanami fluff #Kento Nanami imagines #jjk kento x you #jjk nanami x you #jjk nanami x reader

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kkanabel · 2 months ago

Text

caffeine addiction ❃ from the start ❃ chapter 15 ❃ finale

bakugou katsuki x reader / coffee shop!au + fashion?au

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter | END

words: ~5.2k

T/W: nsfw, minors dni, yucky under the cut at the very end, gushing/squirting, fingering, porn with SO MUCH plot, bakugou being bakugou

You and Bakugou stood in the back of Kindeki, both of you watching as the last stitch of the final dress was finished. It was surreal to think that all the months of stress, frustration, and late nights had culminated in this. You both exchanged a glance, a small smile tugging at your lips. There was pride in Bakugou's eyes—pride for you, for himself, for the line you'd created together.

After packing up, the both of you headed to the runway show. The energy of the crowd buzzed around you as models strutted down the catwalk, the clothes flowing and sparkling under the lights, reflecting the effort and artistry you'd both poured into them. The world finally got to see what you had built together.

As the final model left the runway, the lights dimmed, and silence fell over the crowd. The announcer’s voice boomed, calling for the designers to take the stage. You glanced at Bakugou nervously, but he was already moving toward you, extending his hand. Without hesitation, you slipped your hand into his. Together, you walked onto the runway, and as the lights brightened, the applause became deafening. You bowed, fingers still tightly intertwined with his, and for a brief moment, it felt like you two were the only people in the room.

A few hours later, the congratulatory dinner was a flurry of smiles and laughter, drinks clinking together in celebration. Takumi, Mitsuki, and Masaru sat around the table, proud smiles on their faces as they admired the success of the line. You both had made it—photos of the show were plastered across tabloids and magazines, calling you two creative geniuses.

Bakugou’s mom smirked at him. "You really showed us, huh? You barely told us about this, and now you're all over the damn news!"

Bakugou only grumbled, his face flushed slightly from the praise. "Tch, whatever. It’s not that big a deal."

Takumi raised her glass. "To (Y/N) and Bakugou, the dynamic duo! You both have done something incredible here," she grinned widely, “I’m so proud of my baby niece.”

Laughter filled the table as they continued reminiscing, flipping through photos of the show, the models, and—of course—that moment on stage when you and Bakugou bowed together, hand in hand. The image had gone viral again– more speculation about your relationship. But when the two of you had toiled so much together for this line, it was only right to bow together, hands locked.

As the night wore on, the room thinned out. Your aunt was chatting with Bakugou's parents, and you were scrolling through the congratulations on social media, cheeks warm from the praise and alcohol. Bakugou, however, had barely spoken for the past hour. He nursed his drink quietly, eyes glancing over at you more frequently than usual.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

When the last of the guests finally left, Bakugou stood from the table, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Hey… walk with me.”

You blinked up at him, confused but nodding. The two of you left the restaurant together, the night air cool against your skin as you made your way down the quiet street. Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets, his face tense, like he was fighting something inside of him. He avoided eye contact.

"So, you wanna grab dinner tomorrow? Just us. You know, to celebrate," he asked, voice rough but casual.

You smiled, feeling relieved. "Sure! We totally deserve it after everything we went through, huh?"

The next day, the air felt crisp and cool, the breeze gentle as it tugged at the edges of your clothes. Autumn was beginning to make itself known—leaves were just starting to fall, swirling lazily in the wind, but the temperature hadn’t dropped too much yet. It was the kind of weather that felt refreshing, comfortable, not quite the bitter cold of winter.

Bakugou waited outside your apartment, leaning casually against the railing, his posture deceptively relaxed while holding two cups. When you stepped out, his gaze immediately met yours. He was dressed in one of the pieces from your line, a sleek black button-up. The sharp lapels echoed the pointed arches, with intricate gold and glass embroidery that twisted up the sleeves before tapering off at the top. The embroidery was your handiwork—done with precision and care—and it gleamed subtly in the dimming light of the evening. He paired it with simple black slacks that clung to his thighs and a nice watch that added to the understated elegance of his outfit.

You, too, were wearing a button-up from the same collection, though yours had silver embroidery that caught the light when you moved. You had draped it off one shoulder, giving it a casual yet fashionable edge, and paired it with a miniskirt from Masaki's last season—the show when this all started.

The entire ensemble felt cohesive, like you two were meant to match.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and steady as always. You nodded, falling into step beside him as you both began the short walk to the restaurant.

Bakugou handed you a to-go cup with a smirk on his face. The steam from the drink curled in the cool autumn air, bringing with it a warm, familiar scent. You raised an eyebrow as you took it from him, glancing up at him in mild surprise.

“A pumpkin spice latte?” you asked, an incredulous lilt in your voice.

“My pumpkin spice latte,” he corrected, his smirk deepening. “None of that basic stuff. Taste it first.”

You brought the cup to your lips, the warmth immediately spreading through your hands as the rich, spiced aroma hit you. The first sip was smooth and velvety, the creaminess of the milk blending perfectly with the pumpkin flavor, but there was something more. A hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, and the faintest touch of cardamom—subtle but distinctive, the kind of flavor that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. The espresso gave it a slight bitterness that balanced the sweetness just right.

“Wow,” you murmured, taking another sip. “This is… really good. You actually like pumpkin spice?”

Bakugou shrugged, walking beside you with his own cup in hand. “It’s not bad when you don’t overload it with syrup.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Figures you’d have a strong opinion on pumpkin spice.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes flickering to your outfit before he spoke again. “You look good tonight, by the way.”

The compliment caught you off guard. He wasn’t one to toss out words like that casually. You glanced down at your clothes, feeling a little self-conscious but also oddly pleased. The button-up from your fashion line hung off your shoulder in just the right way, and the miniskirt from Masaki’s collection felt like a bold choice, but you liked it.

“Thanks,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, you know. That embroidery on your shirt really suits you.”

Bakugou gave a low chuckle, his gaze sliding back to the road ahead. “Yeah? Maybe it’s just ‘cause you made it.”

“Duh,” pride nipped at your face but you still felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks. You quickly sipped from your cup to hide it.

As you walked, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, sipping your drinks between bouts of light banter. The breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant street food stalls, mingling with the comforting spice of your lattes. You couldn’t help but glance at Bakugou again, noticing the way the embroidered details of his shirt caught the fading sunlight, the golden thread glinting just slightly. He wore the sharp lines and subtle elegance of the piece like it was made for him—and it was.

“This embroidery took forever, you know,” you teased, brushing your fingers against his sleeve.

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer, more thoughtful. “I saw you working on it.”

That simple acknowledgment sent a flutter through your chest. You smiled, taking another sip of the latte and savoring the warmth, both from the drink and from Bakugou’s quiet praise.

The rest of the walk was filled with comfortable conversation, the air between you light despite the growing tension neither of you had fully acknowledged yet. You couldn’t deny it—the night already felt different, special in a way you hadn’t quite expected.

The upscale place Bakugou had reserved was one that usually had a waiting list a mile long. But when he’d called a week ago and mentioned his name, they had been more than happy to move things around. The reservation was set, and tonight was the night. The anticipation lingered in the air as you walked down the quiet streets, the soft rustling of leaves underfoot.

As you strolled, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift to all the things Bakugou had done for you over the past months. The big gestures—like staying up with you during those long nights, or how he’d taken over the sewing when you were overwhelmed—and the little ones, too, like how he’d bring you coffee just the way you liked it or let you wear his sweaters and hoodies when you were cold without a second thought. You smiled softly to yourself, feeling a sense of warmth bloom in your chest.

The restaurant was impressive, with sleek interiors and a warm, ambient glow that set the tone for an intimate evening. You and Bakugou were seated quickly, the waitstaff clearly eager to please. As you settled into your seat, you admired how comfortable Bakugou looked in such a fancy setting. His handsome features stood out under the soft lighting, his jawline sharp when he turned to speak with the waiter, his voice carrying that confidence he always seemed to exude.

The restaurant was everything Bakugou had promised—upscale but (mostly) not pretentious, with an intimate ambiance. You’d been talking about the runway show and the mountain of attention that followed, but the conversation shifted when you started musing aloud about your career.

“I just can’t help but feel like I didn’t do this on my own,” you said, swirling your drink absentmindedly. “I mean, if it weren’t for my aunt, I wouldn’t have even had a platform to launch from. It feels like... I’m just riding on her coattails.”

Bakugou's eyes narrowed, but not in annoyance—more like he was carefully considering what to say. He set his drink down, leaning in a little as his voice took on that low, gruff tone you were used to hearing when he wanted you to really listen.

“So what if Takumi gave you a start?” he said, holding your gaze. “Everyone in this business gets a leg up from someone. Hell, I wouldn’t be where I am without my parents. The fact that you didn’t build the whole thing from scratch doesn’t take away from what you’re doing now.”

You looked at him, feeling the familiar tension in your chest—the weight of the expectations you’d placed on yourself. “But it still feels like I’m not doing enough. Like... I have to prove that I can do it alone.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re already doing it. Yeah, Takumi gave you a road to start on, but you’re the one driving. And look at where you are now—hell, look at the stuff you’ve created. You’re not just following someone else’s path. You’re paving your own.”

You blinked at him, letting his words sink in. It wasn’t something you hadn’t thought about before, but hearing it from Bakugou—someone who’d grown up with fashion icons for parents—made it feel different. More real.

“Think about it,” he continued, voice steady. “There are a ton of people who just ride the wave of whatever their parents or mentors built for them. They don’t push it any further—they just stay comfortable, do what’s expected. But you and me?” He paused, red eyes intense as they met yours. “We’re different. You’ve taken what Takumi gave you and pushed it further. You’re creating things she wouldn’t even think of. That’s you, not her.”

You looked down at the table, fiddling with the edge of your napkin, his words slowly settling in. He wasn’t wrong. You had pushed yourself, and your designs were nothing like what your aunt had done. But it was hard to shake the feeling that you weren’t standing on your own feet yet.

“And as for needing help?” Bakugou added, his tone softening just slightly. “Everyone needs help sometimes. You don’t have to do everything alone to prove something. If anything, learning how to use the resources you’ve got—that’s smart. That’s what makes the difference between people who fizzle out and people who go somewhere.”

You glanced back up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You really think I can pave my own way?”

He snorted. “I don’t think. I know. You’re already doing it.”

The confidence in his voice, the way he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world—it made something in you settle. Maybe you didn’t have to fight so hard to prove you could stand alone. Maybe it was okay to accept the help that came your way, as long as you kept pushing forward.

"Thanks, Katsuki," you murmured, feeling a warmth settle into your chest that had nothing to do with the restaurant's ambient lighting.

He shrugged like it was nothing, but the way his eyes lingered on yours for just a second longer told you it wasn’t. You watched him for a moment, mesmerized by how effortlessly he carried himself, and your thoughts wandered again.

How lucky would I be to have someone like him as my future husband?

Your gaze lingered on his profile, admiring the sharp lines of his face, the intensity in his eyes even when he wasn’t looking at you. The way he treated you, with quiet care and unwavering support, made your heart swell. It was hard not to think about the future when you had someone like Bakugou in your life.

The thought slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“I can only hope that my future boyfriend treats me the way you do,” you said with a soft smile, eyes flickering up to meet his.

For a second, the air seemed to still. Bakugou’s eyes widened, just barely, and his posture stiffened. He didn’t respond right away, and when he did, it was with a tight-lipped nod. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice more rough than usual.

Bakugou froze. His grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. You didn’t notice. But Bakugou’s thoughts were running wild.

Future boyfriend?

He thought this was a date. He thought…

He had finally made a move. But here you were, treating it like just another dinner between coworkers. The words hit him hard, and for the rest of the night, he barely spoke. He couldn’t. His heart was pounding, frustration building with every second that passed.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor—how he seemed quieter all of a sudden, his responses shorter, more clipped than before. But you didn’t think too much of it, continuing the conversation, unaware of the storm brewing inside of him. Every time you smiled at him, every casual comment you made, Bakugou felt the weight of your words crushing him.

Future boyfriend.

The thought gnawed at him, each passing minute pulling him deeper into his frustration. The idea of some other dude going out to dinner with you like this—the idea of you smiling up at the mystery man made his chest burn.

You didn’t even see this as a date. To you, it was just another celebratory dinner. You thought it was casual, something friends or coworkers would do after a job well done. But to Bakugou, this was supposed to be something more.

Dinner passed, and soon you were walking home, the cool breeze nipping at your skin as you strolled beside him. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy with unspoken thoughts. You were rambling about your roommate, who had just returned from a trip, unaware of the tension rising beside you.

When you were a few blocks from your apartment, Bakugou suddenly stopped walking, standing still on the sidewalk. You paused, turning to face him.

“What’s up?” you asked, concerned by the serious look on his face.

He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. His heart pounded in his chest, the words on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t hold them in anymore—he finally snapped.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. Bakugou didn’t look away this time—his gaze was locked on yours, his face pained, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

“I’ve been in love with you from the fucking start.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His voice was strained, the weight of everything he had been bottling up spilling out in those few sentences. Trying to process what he had just said, you stared at him, the weight of his confession hitting you like a ton of bricks. His face was twisted in agony, his usual bravado gone. He turned his face away from you, unable to keep watching the dumbfounded look on your face. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—until you did.

Your hands started moving on their own. His eyes were wide as you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, turned his head to you, and pulled him down into a kiss before you even realized. It was desperate and rough, filled with all the emotions neither of you had realized were simmering beneath the surface. When you pulled away, you were both breathless, your lips tingling from the force of it.

He watched your eyelashes flutter in the dim lighting of the streetlights, hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

Bakugou’s voice was low, gravelly, as he leaned in closer. “We’re going to my place. I’m calling a fucking taxi.”

He could barely keep his hands off you as he fumbled for his phone, the weight of everything that had been unsaid finally crashing down around you both. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you peppered kisses down his throat, hearing him take in a sharp breath before taking the call. You couldn’t even register what you were doing—his scent made you dizzy and your heart flutter. The taxi ride to Bakugou's studio apartment was a blur of anticipation and unspoken tension.

The moment the car door slammed shut behind you, his hands found yours, interlocking firmly. His grip was a silent declaration of intent, and your body responded with a thrill of excitement that shot straight to your core. In the elevator, his lips and hands traveled up and down your body.

You didn't bother with the lights. The moon's glow from the large windows cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the stark contrast of his broad, muscular form against the black bed sheets. His crimson eyes never left yours as he approached, a hunger in them that was unmistakable.

With a gentle urgency, you both began to peel away the layers of fabric that separated your skin and his. Your hands trembled as they glided over his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the material. His arms, as solid as the steel beams that supported the city's skyscrapers, wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering above, a wall of heat and want. His scent of burnt sugar and coffee enveloped you as you laid atop his bed, the air thick with desire.

He whispered against your skin, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," his breath hot and sweet as he placed soft, wet kisses along your neckline. His hands found the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it, the fabric giving way to reveal the soft swell of your breasts. His eyes grew darker, his gaze lingering, as if memorizing every inch of you.

You felt his weight shift as he moved down to kiss your neck down to the top of your chest, his tongue swirling around your now-exposed skin. His mouth was a promise of what was to come, leaving a trail of fire down to your cleavage. You couldn't help but whimper as you arched into him, craving more of his touch, his taste.

With a playful smirk, his eyes zeroed in on your peaked nipples. He took one in his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, flicking and teasing until it was a tight bud. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut, the sensation of his warm, wet tongue rubbing circles onto you sending a shiver down your spine. His hand traveled down to the hem of your skirt, inching it up your thighs, the fabric brushing against your sensitive skin.

You felt your breath hitch as his teeth grazed over your tender flesh, the pleasure sharp and shooting right to your core. He suckled hard on the side of your breast, leaving a dark mark behind. You could feel your heart racing, your body begging for more.

He moved to the other side, giving it the same treatment, leaving you panting and writhing beneath him. His teeth grazed the skin, not breaking the surface, but the promise was there—a promise that made you quiver. His other hand slipped over the wet fabric of your panties as he muttered something about “Makin’ you mine…”

“Wait wha-” Before you could manage out any words, he cut you off– you gripped the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white, as he began to rub circles around your clit, the pressure building with every stroke. He somehow knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you squirm and beg. His mouth moved away from your breasts, leaving them sensitive and wanting to find yours again. His kiss was demanding, his tongue dancing with yours as his hand worked its magic between your legs.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the rustling of fabric as he removed your skirt completely, leaving you in just your black lace panties. He kissed down your body, his teeth scraping against the lace, his tongue darting out to taste the skin beneath. His breath was hot and erratic, matching the rhythm of your own.

His devilish smirk reappeared. “This lace looks familiar,” he ribbed, running a stripe of his tongue over your clothed lips.

Heat rose up your neck, causing you to overheat more than you already were. “T-There was an extra strip of fabric, and I-”

Bakugou scoffed, entertained. “It looks nice,” he says, taking a moment to admire the lace clinging to your body. “It’d be a shame to take them off.”

And then, finally, he slid your panties to the side and took your clit into his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, your body bowing off the bed as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt. You moaned, your hips bucking up to meet his face, his hands firmly holding your hips in place. Your hands shot straight to the nape of his neck, tugging at his hair for any sort of purchase.

You were lost in a haze of sensation, his touch everywhere, his mouth on you, his hands in your hair, his breath in your ear, whispering dirty, sweet nothings that made you wetter, made you need him more. The world outside had ceased to exist. There was only you, and there was only him.

As he played with your nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, you felt the beginnings of an orgasm coil tightly in your belly. You could feel your muscles tense, the pressure building until it was all you could think about. And when he inserted two fingers into you, you instantly came apart in his arms, your body shaking with the force of it.

Bakugou pulled away, smiling up at you, a smug look on his face that made your heart flutter and your face heat up. “Already? I’ve barely even started,” he smirked at you. With his fingers still inside of you, he moved up to kiss you again, the taste of your own arousal mixing with the taste of him.

His fingers thrusted in and out of your wetness for a moment until he curled his fingers up, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. To your chagrin, a loud squeal came out of you when he did this. Noticing your reaction, his shit-eating grin only got wider and wider before he started abusing that spot pressing up at it over and over again, making you scream.

He watched your face, the way your cheeks heated up and your mouth hanging open in pleasure, and he smirked. "So wet for me," he murmured, his voice a dark caress in your ear. "You're going to drench my hand." And just as he said it, your body responded, gushing around his fingers, making him chuckle in triumph.

Bakugou pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded with desire. "You're so fucking hot when you come," he said, his voice thick with lust. He held up his glistening digits, and you couldn't help but whine at the sight of your arousal coating them. He brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "So delicious," he added with a wink, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment and desire.

The smug look on his face only served to make you want him more. You reached out, grabbing fistfuls of his shoulders, and pulled him back down to you. "Please," you breathed, your voice shaky with need. "Just put it in..."

Bakugou's smirk grew wolfish as he obeyed, pumping at his girthy length while his fingers retreated from your warmth only to be replaced by something much larger. You gasped as he pushed into you, inch by inch, filling you up until you thought you couldn't take anymore. His cock was thick and hard, stretching you in the most delicious way possible. He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, before starting to move.

With every thrust, the pressure built again, the movement of his cock against your sensitive walls sending sparks through your body. You could feel your orgasm building, a storm on the horizon, growing stronger with every beat of your racing heart. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back.

He groaned, the sound low and animalistic, and picked up the pace. His hips pistoned into you, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet room. His teeth found your neck, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out. The pain mixed with pleasure, creating a heady cocktail that had you spiraling out of control as the tip of his cock rubbed at all of the right places. You could feel the storm inside you approaching, the thunder of your pulse in your ears, the lightning of sensation in your veins.

“Harder,” you begged with a strained voice.

“You’re going to regret asking for that,” Bakugou managed, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. He pounded into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every drive, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. His fingers dug into the curve of your ass as an anchor as he thrust himself into you. Your nails scraped down his back, leaving red lines in their wake, but he only growled, the slight pain fueling his need for more. Your breasts bounced with every impact, your nipples pebbled and sensitive, begging for his mouth again.

The bed frame creaked in protest under the onslaught of your passion, the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You were lost in the feel of him, the taste of him, the scent of him—everything about him consumed you. Your orgasm was close, so close, you could almost touch it.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice tight with need.

“Cum for me, Princess,” he said, his voice strained. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans. His thumb found your clit again, and he circled it roughly, driving you closer to the edge.

Finally, when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he picked up the pace even more, driving into you with a ferocity that had you clawing at the sheets. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came apart for him one last time.

Bakugou’s movements grew erratic, his breathing ragged, as he felt his own climax approaching. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down hard as he came deep inside of you, his warmth filling you up with his tip pressed against your cervix, making you shiver. He groaned out your name, the sound guttural and raw.

You lay there, panting and trembling, as he pulled out, his cock still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He collapsed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of your heavy breathing and the distant murmur of the city outside. Then, with a sigh, Bakugou leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice still rough from passion.

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with satisfaction, and nodded. You didn’t need to say it back—you both knew it was true. Your bodies were entwined, your hearts racing in sync. This was it. The moment you had both been waiting for, the moment everything changed.

He rolled over, placing you on top of him, and you straddled him, feeling his cock, now softening, pressing against your thigh. You leaned down to kiss him again, your lips swollen from the passionate affair. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he murmured against your mouth. His eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, for reassurance that this was real. You smiled, a soft, genuine smile, and kissed him again, deeper, slower, savoring the taste of him.

As your kisses grew more gentle, your bodies began to relax, the tension of the day, the tension of the months of unspoken love, finally dissipating. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” you whispered, feeling a little guilty that it took you this long to realize his feelings.

Bakugou’s hand stroked your hair, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “I’d wait forever for you,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re worth it, every fucking second of it.”

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passion, the moon casting its glow over your intertwined forms. This was the start of something new, something completely unexplored, and you were ready to face it together.

a/n: IT'S THE END!!! OHHHH MY LAWD it's been such a wild ride. thank you so much for reading & an extra special thank you to the reposts and comments-- they mean so much more to me than y'all know. i hope you enjoyed the series!

as always, stay safe & hydrated, and stay tuned for more bakugou~

also, let me know if y'all want some sort of epilogue-- and if so, what do you want to be in it? just their daily lives? their WEDDING? let me know in the comments :>

(oh yeah. as usual, not beta-read. lmk if there are any typos/inconsistencies. thanks!)

taglist: @takoyakitakii, @itzjustj-1000

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter | END (maybe)

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sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 1103

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.

The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.

Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.

Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.

His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.

Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”

“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.

Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.

“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.

Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”

“Sounds like her.”

“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”

“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.

“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”

“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”

“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”

She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”

Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”

“собственность дракона.”

“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.

“Clearly, you disapprove.”

“I’m not inking it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”

She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”

“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”

“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”

Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.

“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.

Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.

The Dragon.

“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.

“Depends on what you want me to do.”

“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”

In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.

Take me to part 2!

Masterlist

If you like what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or Kofi

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 18 days ago

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it’s ok to be happy, even after everything p4

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by @kokomaesadie

Hi! I love your Fred imagines and I’m still discovering more of your writing! I was wondering if you’d feel up to writing either a part 4 or a stand alone that could be tied to “It’s okay to be happy” if you squint lol. Basically, they’re at the burrow and they don’t know yet that Fred has started to laugh again and they’re trying to have some sort of semblance to the life they had before the war. And the reader maybe plays a new prank on Fred that he’s never seen before and it causes him to let out this big burst of laughter. Everyone else just kind of freezes in shock but becomes super happy about it. And maybe Molly goes to the kitchen to dry her tears because she’s so happy that her son is laughing again. Later she pulls the reader aside and just thanks her profusely for being with Freddie. I know that’s super specific and kind of ties your hands in creativity, so that example of what the reader does can be something different. I just figured that would be something to get a belly laugh out of Fred. If you’re not able to, that’s okay! Just a thought I had.

masterlist | navigation | p1 | p2 | p3

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

The Burrow was alive with the usual buzz that seemed to define it—chatter, clinking of dishes, the occasional burst of laughter from George or Ron. Everyone was trying to keep things light, to hold on to that pre-war energy, but it wasn’t the same. There was an emptiness that lingered in the corners, like a missing puzzle piece that nobody dared mention aloud.

Fred sat in the living room, half-listening to George as he talked animatedly about the shop’s new line of trick sweets. Y/N was across the room, chatting with Ginny, but her eyes kept drifting over to Fred. The slight smile he wore didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was still healing, still carrying the weight of everything he had lost during the war. But there was progress. In the past few weeks, Fred had started to laugh again. Not often, not loudly, but it was there—a soft chuckle or a quick smile when something really amused him. No one in the family had noticed yet, though. He seemed to save those moments just for her.

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at the thought. But tonight, she wanted more. She wanted Fred to laugh like he used to, to let go of the heaviness that weighed him down in front of the people who loved him the most. And she had an idea.

She quietly excused herself from Ginny and slipped out of the room, heading upstairs to where Fred had stashed some of the newest prank supplies. She had seen one of the items earlier and knew it would be perfect—something Fred wouldn’t expect.

A few minutes later, Y/N returned to the living room, her heart pounding with nervous excitement. Fred was still sitting in his chair, looking a little more relaxed now, but his eyes were distant. George had gone into the kitchen to help Molly with dinner, leaving the rest of them chatting amongst themselves.

It was now or never.

Y/N sidled up behind Fred, her steps light as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny contraption. It was a new invention from the shop—a self-propelling fake bat that squeaked and flapped around whenever it detected movement. Fred hadn’t seen it in action yet.

With a mischievous grin, Y/N tossed the bat into the air, watching as it zoomed forward and flapped its way right into Fred’s line of sight.

Fred startled, his eyes going wide as the bat flapped around his face, its squeaks echoing through the room. He jumped up, swatting at it, but the bat dodged his every move, zipping around his head with gleeful persistence.

For a moment, the room was silent as everyone turned to watch the scene unfold. Fred looked completely baffled, his arms flailing as the bat continued to swoop and squeak.

And then, it happened.

Fred let out a loud, booming laugh—deep and genuine, the kind that used to echo through the Burrow’s walls. It was as if the sound had broken through some invisible barrier, releasing the tension that had been building for months. The laughter continued, rolling out of him in waves, and it was so infectious that soon George, Ginny, and even Ron were laughing right along with him.

But the rest of the family wasn’t just laughing. They were staring, frozen in place for a few heartbeats, as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing.

Fred was laughing again.

Molly, who had just stepped out of the kitchen, froze in the doorway, her eyes wide and full of emotion. She stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her son’s bright, carefree laughter. Then, without a word, she turned and hurried back into the kitchen.

Y/N’s heart swelled with pride as she watched Fred double over, still laughing at the ridiculousness of the bat that had now perched itself on his shoulder. It was as if the sound had shattered the tension in the room, making it feel like home again.

Eventually, the laughter died down, and Fred collapsed back into his chair, wiping tears from his eyes. He looked up at Y/N, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, that was brilliant,” he said, his voice breathless but full of warmth.

Y/N grinned, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I thought you could use a good laugh.”

Fred smiled—really smiled—and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes.

Later that evening, after dinner, Y/N was helping Molly with the dishes when the older woman gently touched her arm, pulling her aside. Molly’s eyes were watery, her expression soft and filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” Molly said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N blinked in surprise. “For what?”

“For being there for Fred,” Molly continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t think you understand just how much you’ve done for him. He hasn’t been the same since… well, since everything. But tonight… tonight, I saw a glimpse of my boy again. And that’s because of you.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I just want him to be happy,” she whispered.

Molly smiled, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “You’re giving him that, dear. You’re giving him a reason to be happy again. And for that, I will always be grateful.”

Y/N hugged Molly back, her heart swelling with love for the Weasley family and for the boy who had captured her heart. As they pulled apart, Y/N glanced over at Fred, who was sitting by the fire, his smile still lingering as he joked with George.

She knew that the road ahead wouldn’t always be easy, that Fred still had a lot of healing left to do. But tonight had been a turning point, and she was going to be there for him every step of the way.

After all, she had promised to keep him laughing. And that was a promise she intended to keep.

#isaacismyhusbandeventhohedoesntknowityet #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader fluff

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ungodlywordsv2 · 1 month ago

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Always Meant to Be by Ungodlywords

tags: yandere, soft yandere, manipulative, possessive

disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and does not condone yandere behavior or any harmful actions. Please remember that these characters and situations are not reflective of reality.

All content shared here is my original work. I kindly ask that you do not copy, repost, or reshare my stories without my permission. Thank you for respecting my creativity!

I know you liked them, sweetie, but they were keeping you away from me. I couldn’t allow that. You understand, don’t you? You’re mine, and what’s mine should always stay by my side.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How they thought keeping you away from me meant they were helping you. They believed they understood you. What a joke. Those people—your so-called "friends"—with their fake smiles and empty promises, know nothing. They don’t know anything about you.

I initially tolerated their presence because they kept you occupied. I remember the way you laughed when they were around. At first, I thought it was cute, how you’d show them that beautiful smile of yours. But then I realized, with every joke, with every word, they were pulling you further away from me. Stealing you. They didn’t deserve your attention. They were poisoning your mind, making you forget what’s most important: me.

I had to do something. You understand that, right? I couldn’t let them keep taking you away. You belong with me, and I’m the only one who really knows what’s best for you. So I got rid of them.

Oh, don’t look so shocked. You didn’t need them. In fact, I did you a favor. Now, there’s no one left to distract you from us—from this perfect little world I’ve built for you. For us. They were nothing but obstacles, darling, keeping you from realizing what we have.

Hmm, you’re quiet now. I know, I know, it must be overwhelming at first. You’re not used to being... without them. This is gonna be a whole new different thing. But that’s okay! I’m patient. I’ll take care of you, like I always do. You don’t need anyone else. Just me. You’ll see, soon enough. You’ll understand why I need to do what I do.

You might feel lonely right now. I get it. I really do. But you’ll grow to see how much better things are without them. Without their lies and their whispers. Without their schemes to keep us apart. They never wanted you to be happy. Not the way I do. They didn’t see the truth. The truth that we were meant to be together from the start.

Do you hear that? The silence. Isn’t it nice? No more buzzing from your phone, no more knocks at your door, no more invites dragging you away from me. It’s just us now. Finally. You’re safe here. With me.

Oh, don’t try to get up, sweetie. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

You’re not going anywhere—don’t worry. You’re exactly where you belong. Right here. Where I can keep you safe. Protected. Where no one can come between us ever again.

You’re mine now, and you always will be.

#yandere imagine #yandere #yandere story #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #tw yandere #yandere x darling

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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hi dearest, i loved your gorgeous response to my ask about getting high with keanuverse characters!

i’m stoned again, watching bill and ted and feeling creative…. the song “two heads are better than one” from the movie rlly has me lost in thought about just how great a bill and ted threesome would be

anyways, much love 😚

- 🍃anon

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳Ofc! As one crusty stoner to another, I love getting your asks hehe, and this one was actually the one that helped get my out of my writers block! <3 decided to add some holiday spice after finding out that San Dimas actually has had freak snow storms in the 90s.

Tags/CW: drugs/getting high obvi, stoner/skater!reader(they met b&t at the skate park hehe), threesome, oral (m/f receiving), p in v, p in a, double penetration, spitroast, soft doms!Bill + Ted, claiming, semi bimbo-fied, reader ends up feeling a bit dumb from how much c*ck she's taking, service top!Bill, commanding!Ted, primal-ish!ted, ted treats you like he owns you, objectification, you're basically a f*ck doll for bill and ted tonight, c*ckwarming.

The night's have grown long, and despite San Dimas usually keeping up the heat in the winter, today had dipped well into freezing degrees. The forecast, to everyone's dismay, predicted the snow storm of the century, and what better an opportunity than to bunker down and party with your boyfriend and his best friend..

Bill and Ted had already stocked their tiny apartment with snacks, VHS comedies they has rented, and enough weed to supply you all into next week. After your shift at the mall, you hurry to beat the snow that threatens to come down. You watch as a few straggling customers try to find something to do in the mall, but one after another, the lights of each store grows dim, until it's just you and other managers locking up. You head to your car as the wind picks up, prickling your nose with its cold hand. You arrived at Bill and Ted's place just as the flurries started to tumble, catching in your hair and melting as you come inside their cozy abode...

Ted is the first to greet you, taking the large pack of soda and groceries you brought from your hands with ease and smile. His warm lips kiss your chilly cheek and you feel the heat rising even more there. He takes your groceries to the kitchen to unload, and you follow, finding Bill sitting on the counter, a bag of potato chips already being devoured. His pale eyes are rimmed with red, making them seem so much bluer.

"Alright! Now we can finally party!" Bill cheers with a smile and offers you a high five.

You gladly accept, hoping get on his level soon yourself. Ted can sense this, and when he's done tossing the food into the fridge, he comes over and puts his arm around you.

"I held out until you got here, but Bill couldn't wait." He laughs, taking a lighter and joint from his orange coat pocket.

"We can share this one," he continues, and holds it out to your lips, placing it there when you're ready and lighting it for you.

You love when he takes care of you like that, treating you like his little princess and doing it all for you. It's what drew you in to him, the way he knew instinctively when to be there for you. Ever since he patched your knee up at the skatepark without hesitating, you've been head over heels.

What makes it better is, Ted has always known when to let you do it yourself as well. He's there to treat you right when you want it, but he doesn't think you need his help all the time. It's what made you two work so well.

You inhale your first hit, the smoke filling your lungs, expanding as you hold it. You pull Ted in, bringing his tall frame down to your level, and letting the smoke in your mouth find its way into his. He happily accpects, shotgunning the smoke while letting his lips finish with a well placed kiss at the end. You look into those deep chocolate eyes of his and can feel the smile that's forming on your lips.

Soon enough, you find yourself starting to feel the buzz, the joint getting smaller and smaller as the three of you make your way into the living room, plopping on the couch together. You somehow end up between Bill and Ted.

"We should like, totally put some flicks on, dude!" Ted says to Bill with a goofy grin.

"Right on! Let's watch Dazed and Confused!" Bill's eyes are droopy and his laugh happy.

You find yourself left next to him as Ted goes to pop the movie in. Your mind grows fuzzier and as you sit and giggle with Bill on the couch about dumb jokes, you find that funny feeling that's been finding its way in your stomach since you met the two stoners. You know you and Ted are dating, but when it started out, you weren't sure who you were more attracted to. You wonder if Bill still has residual feelings for you the way you do for him as his hand brushes yours on the couch.

Ted can see you two interacting from the kitchen, and to his own surprise, he smiles about it. He knows that when Bill and him first met you, that both of them liked you. He knows Bill was a good sport about it all, losing a rock, paper, scissors battle with Ted and backing off so that he could date you. Still, Ted wonders if it was ever possible that he could share you.

You however, have no idea that Ted has fantasized about letting Bill in on the relationship, so you pull your hand back from Bill's after a lingering pause. Ted rounds the corner of the couch and sits back down next to you, relighting up the end of the joint and sharing it with you once more.

You know if you get much higher you'll begin to feel it in your body, when it hits just right and every moment feels so much better than before. It's dangerous because of how horny that makes you. You know Bill and Ted share a room here, so it would be hard to find alone time with just Ted. As you inhale a particularly long puff, you begin to think it won't matter in the end, especially with the way Bill and Ted are looking at you now.

You place your hand on Ted's neck, softly beginning to pull him in to exchange the smoke in your lungs once more, but Ted moves. He takes his own hands to your cheeks, steadying you and pointing you into Bill's direction. Bill leans in, okay with the offer as long as Ted is, and you find yourself lost in those droopy, icy blue eyes once again.

His lips part, pressing against yours ever so softly. You're reminded once more that Bill has the face of an angel, and as you exhale into his mouth, it's as if he's stolen all the breath in your lungs. A tingle runs from your lips gently on his, and smoke swirls up into the air as it escapes the gaps between you two. You feel Ted's hands on your neck and waist, guiding you. Before you can think about what you're doing, your lips move against Bill's and suddenly all you can do is what feels good right now. You don't think too hard on the implications.

As your kiss deepens with Bill, you feel Ted on your neck, kissing and sucking there, his hands wandering your body. He pulls on your shirt a bit, and whispers in your ear, deep and husky, full of want.

"I want to show you off.."

You oblige, Bill breaking the kiss and watching as Ted helps to take your top off, undressing you slow. Even the way the fabric on your skin feels right now is making you horny. When it's gone, goosebumps form on your bare skin as the cold of the night rushes in to feast on it. The snow outside falls gently, with big lazy flakes layering on the ground.

Bill can't hide his smile, even if he tries. He loves the way your body looks, and the two men exchange glances over it, and you feel a bit like an object to be shown and played with for a moment. That makes the wetness that was budding between your thighs bloom even more, you start to love the idea of Bill and Ted taking their time with you, using you up like the toy you are. It's not even in a cruel objectification way. No, they're just two curious stoners who have needs that want to get out with your body, and you know if you asked them to stop they wouldn't hesitate. That trust between you three makes this all the better.

You let Bill part your legs, his hand running up your thigh and going so deep between them. A tingle rockets through your body at the touch, and Ted works on getting your bra off. Once it is, your nipples harden in the chilly air, and you look up with a smile, biting your lip and laughing as Ted eyes you hungrily. You've never seen him want you so bad.

Ted's warm mouth engulfs one of your nipples, while his hands move to tease the other. The sensation is almost overwhelming alone, but you're practically soaking from how Bill's hands move against your cunt, not yet finding their way around your panties. Bill keeps his hand there, playing with you beneath your skirt until you're moaning out. You gasp when he parts your legs further, getting on his knees between them and bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. You look down at those brilliant blue eyes and that smile of his, watching with suspense as he slowly pushes your panties to the side, letting your damp cunt get a taste of that cool air.

You practically writhe against them both just from that. Your moans increase as Bill dips his head deeper, his mouth warmly blowing against your exposed pussy. You cry out as his tongue laps up the whole of your cunt, making sure to wet all of you even more, being sure to taste you completely. Ted continues at your breasts, and the combination of the two already has you practically cumming. Being this high makes it so easy, makes every movement feel so much more extreme. You feel the heat of your high radiating off your body, particularly your cunt right now.

Bill continues, bringing his attention to your clit, circling slowly, then faster. He uses a flat tongue between to really give all of it attention at once, then drives you made when he sucks softly. Your hand finds his mess of blond curls and tangles in it, trying to keep him on your clit when he's sucking hardest, before being overstimulated and having to take a breath. The two men laugh a few times from how much you're enjoying this, and you feel like you're under such a microscope for them right now. Like something for them both to play with together.

"I want you to moan his name..." You hear Ted's voice whisper to you, and you glance into his eyes.

He wants this. He wants to see you submit to his friend the way you have to him. You bite your lip, trying to really feel ready for that, and as Bill's mouth sucks once more, you do, calling out his name.

"Bill...! Please, god...it feels so good...!" You cry out, cunt aching for more.

"You'll have to ask him to let you cum. Maybe even beg..." Ted continues to instruct, and you nod like the good little slut you are, brain empty of everything except pleasure and pleasing right now.

Your legs shake as you begin to come closer, your pussy bucking into Bill's mouth for any friction it can get. Your nipples are so sensitive, and Ted takes his time making sure each are sufficiently attended to, his hands sometimes roaming else where to squeeze and hold. You feel your pleasure rising, and you don't know how much more you can take.

"Please, Bill! I need to cum so badly..." You whimper out, and see him looking up at you, his hand moving to take over on your clit so he can speak.

"That's right, I want you to cum for me. I want you to be a good little toy and cum while moaning out my name for me." Bill commands, and you don't even try to deny him.

He puts his mouth back to your pussy, taking all of it once more, sucking and licking, a few small nibbles with well placed teeth sending you over the edge, driving you absolutely mad. You clutch his hair, clutch onto Ted who's begun to twist and bite your nipples the way you like, and waves of pleasure pass over your body as your legs shake and practically clamp down on Bill's head. Both men hold you fast, keeping you still, keeping your legs open as your ride out wave after wave of pleasure. You feel completely gone, your body stimulated beyond what you thought possible, and your orgasm goes on for far past what you thought it would. Bill and Ted are not ones to quit, however, and their tongues and hands keep you going until you're completely satisfied.

When your muscles finally give up, legs parting and falling to your sides, they both take a breather. Ted rests his head on your chest, that rises and falls quickly, tiredly. Bill rests his head on your inner thigh, eyes barely open, looking at you with a satisfied smile. The three of you take all the time you need to recover, simply enjoying laying there together. It's not like there's anywhere to go in the morning, the snow has piled up way past what they thought it would. You guys have all the time in the world to explore each other.

Bill is the first to move, reaching over and taking a deep hit of the joint once more. He passes it to Ted, who passes it to your lips once more. You wearily take another hit, unsure if you could even get much higher, but there's no way you're about to let them both out smoke you after that. Ted finishes his hit and puts the joint on an ashtray on the coffee table.

Ted helps move you, pulling you up til you're on your hands and knees on the couch. Every move you make sends shock waves of residual pleasure through your legs and stomach, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning from just that. Your cunt wants so much more now, aching to be filled and throbbing from what Bill's already done to you. You, almost helplessly, as Bill gets on the couch in front of you, his cock flopping out of his sweatpants as he pulls them down.

Ted moves behind you, and you can't see what he's up to, but in a moment, you feel the heat of the tip of his cock against your ass. You shiver as all of it flops against your ass, glancing back and seeing Ted measuring his cock there, seeing how it will fit so nicely and deeply inside of you. You turn back to Bill, and without having to be told, take his cock in your hand, stroking it and admiring how much girth he had.

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out like the dumb little fuck doll that you are, and Bill takes advantage of that, slipping his cock in as deeply as possible. You want to cry out but it comes out choked from how deep Bill is in your mouth, still in utter pleasure from how Ted slips his cock against your soaked cunt. Soon enough, Ted dips into your pussy, finding his way in slowly, but not stopping until he's gone as deep as he can. You're aching and stretched out by the time he gets to the hilt of his cock, and all you can do is look up at Ted who's slowly fucking your mouth the same way.

The two men keep taking what they want from your slutty little holes, and you find yourself closing your eyes and losing yourself to the sensation of being used so freely. You can't believe you've let both of them take you like this, trapped between the two of them so you couldn't get away if you tried, mouth and cunt filled to the brim with cock.

You feel Ted's hand reach up and grab your hair, pull it so that you can look back and see him. He keeps pulling you up until Bill's cock falls out of your mouth, and Ted's mouth is at your neck. You watch like a limp doll, unable to fight back, as Bill comes closer, taking your breaths in his hands, squeezing them together and lapping them up.

"You're pussy is mine, you got that?" You hear Ted grumble in your ear as he claims that part of you with his cock, his hand still pulling your hair.

You nod, unable to even speak at this point, letting and wanting them to do whatever to you, feeling so easily overpowered.

"Bill's allowed to have fun with your other two holes as much as he pleases, however..." Ted continues as Bill feasts on your breasts and let's a hand snake to your clit.

You squirm as he plays with you there, the cock that's filling you so deeply combined with that stimulation bringing you to your next orgasm. You spasm, your body unable to stop itself for cumming. Bill continues to work his hands on you as you work through yourself round of pleasure for the night. When you're finished, Ted's cock stalls for a moment, and you whine out.

"Tell him thank you for letting you cum." Ted instructs, face next to your neck, watching as Bill rises from your tits.

"T-thank you, Bill..." You stammer out, and Bill smiles, bringing your head towards him and kissing you deeply once more.

You happily kiss back, letting Bill explore your mouth with his tongue and yours doing the same. You can't believe how commanding your usually sweet, goofy boyfriend is. How how badly his best friend wants you. You also don't care for the implications, all you need right now is both of these men fucking your brains out until you're a mess that can barely walk. You let Ted slide of you, and with Bill's help flip you around so you're facing Ted once more. They both help to pick your weight up, and you easily slide back onto Ted's cock with your wet pussy. Bill reaches down, sliding some of your wetness to your ass.

"Is it okay if I try this?" You hear Bill ask, obviously wanting to try out your ass. You can tell he's half asking you, but who he's really asking is Ted. You nod, but Ted speaks up.

"As long as it's not her cunt, bro. I don't want anyone else accidently getting her pregnant, that's my job..." The way he talks about you like your his property has you wanting more, you feel so bare and ready to be used right now.

Bill nods, and slowly rubs his cock against your asshole, making slow movement, ready to stop if you were to protest. But you don't. You want both of them to fill you up down there, to feel completely full by both of their cocks was becoming more and more important as the time went by. You moan out as the tip of his cock begins to softly and slowly glide into your ass. Bill here's you groan in slight discomfort as it goes deeper, and he softly kisses your neck, assuring you. Ted doesn't move his cock inside you, not while you're so carefully starting to take Bill's. Instead, his hand goes to your clit, rubbing soft circles and easing tension from having Bill slowly go deeper inside you.

You welcome the pain and the pleasure of both, both men's mouths somewhere on your skin and kissing the pain away. Soon, Bill's entire cock has found it's way snuggly in your ass. You moan from how much it is, and for a few moments any slight movement from either of their cocks is driving you wild. Ted keeps his hand busy on your clit, kissing you deeply and sucking on your tongue as both of them slowly begin pumping in and out of you.

Your leg's can hardly hold themselves up, and you're lucky that both men can keep you suspended over their cocks so easily. You take Ted's cock in your pussy with ease, and slowly begin to take Bill's in your ass as well. You feel a heat like never before back there, and every time Bill plunges deeper, it's as if he's hitting a spot that you've never even tried before. You're a dumb mess between the two men, sloppily kissing both of them and changing when the other guides you to another. You feel pure bliss and ecstasy from how much pleasure is being taken from your sensitive cunt and asshole. Ted even makes sure to give your breasts the attention they need, before trading off to Bill who cups them from behind.

You feel both men's cocks rubbing harder and faster inside of you, feeling only a thin barrier between the two of them. You're stretched and full to the max, moans and words a jumble of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut from how badly you need to cum a third time. For a moment, the high makes you wonder if you haven't already, that's how good it feels to be sandwiched in between your boyfriend and his best friend. You don't even care if they use you as their fuck doll for the rest of the weekend. Part of you wishes the snow never let's up.

You feel Ted's cock begin to get harder first. Then Bill's follows, taking deeper and faster blows at your hole. You don't know how much more you can take, and you're babbling about how good it feels, while both men laugh at what a mess you are, enjoying the pleasure of taking so much of your body.

"God, babe, I can't believe how much of a slut you've been tonight. If I knew you were such a naughty girl, I would have shared you with Bill ages ago..." Ted groans out as he gets closer, looking you in the eyes, watching how hard it is for you to keep them open. You nod along like the dumb little whore you are.

"Yeah, I could have gotten a turn at taking such a tight asshole then." Bill whispers into your ear, biting and sucking your neck when he's done.

You feel completely taken by both of them. Completely owned. Completely devoured.

Your body relaxes into the pounding of your two holes and you let your trembling pussy cum for the third time tonight, taking all the pleasure it can get and then some. The unintended clenching and tightening of your holes sends both men over the edge. Ted first, who's faster cock slows and pounds cum as deep inside of your cunt as possible. Then Bill, who can barely slow down enough to finish, sealing his cock into your ass with a final stroke and letting his hot, sticky cum fill there.

Your body can barely keep itself up, and you whine when Bill and Ted take their cocks out of you slowly.

"Aw, does our princess miss being so full?" Ted asks as he pulls you onto his lap, both of your skins sweaty and glistening from the workout.

"Mhm..." You murmur, and to your surprise, and excitement, Ted lifts you up gently and let's you slide your pussy back onto his cock.

"There." He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. "Now you can keep it warm for me..."

You giggle a little and snuggle into his neck, and you see Bill stand up, likely going to clean up.

"Thanks, dude, I knew your babe would be a totally good fuck." Bill says over his shoulder lazily, but satisfied.

"Anytime, dude, use her holes whenever you want..." Ted says with a smile, eyes looking into yours, waiting for you to say no the way he has been all night.

With the way you've just been fucked by them, you wouldn't even dare to deny him. You hope that this isn't the last time this weekend, even. You snuggle back into Ted's neck, and he talks softly to you, praising you.

"You were so good tonight," his dominating voice gone, now ready to give you the care you need. "You just tell me anytime you don't want to, we'll stop right away."

"No, I..." You breathe into his neck. "I like how you two used me up...I think I needed this..."

You feel his arms wrap around you, almost like a protective barrier between you and the world, and you sink happily into him, your cunt still warming his cock perfectly.

"I'm glad, you were such a good girl for us, I'm happy you had fun too..." His voice seems sleepier by the minute.

You hum a positive reply, and he keeps praising you, drawing little circles on your back until you fall asleep right there.

You're thankful for a snow storm in San Dimas.

#bill and ted fanfic #ted logan x f!reader #ted logan x reader #bill preston x reader #ted x reader x bill #my writing

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virgoilluminati · 1 year ago

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World Class

Chapter 3

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A/N: So I basivally wrote this whole ass chapter and then tumblr went and deleted it..... bro was not happy. But hey I just rewrote it now for you all so your welcome. Hopefully it isn't completely awful. Enjoy :)

(Ps this is a walsh + bronze ship story too, so dont get offended cos i love them together :))

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst? Mentions of death

keirawalsh & lucybronze

Liked by lionesses, y/nmorrison and 93,000 others

keirawalsh early mornings on the greatest place on earth

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leahwilliamsonn this is where you two sneaked off too before breakfast!

y/nmorrison the fact most of us had to completely collapse after the session last night and you two decided to go for an early walk 🤦🏻‍♀️

lucybronze what can I say, gotta get them gains 💪💪

The breakfast table buzzed with conversations, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery as you, a member of the England women’s football team, contemplated the daunting task of choosing breakfast from the tempting buffet spread.

“Mary, I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on the mouthwatering options.

Mary Earps, the team’s talented goalkeeper, sympathized, sighing softly. “I know, we just have to choose.”

“But it’s so hard,” you lamented, your stomach growling in protest.

“I know. Do I go for a savory breakfast or something sweet? I’m supposed to be on a diet.”

“Let’s just get the fruit salad and then see how we feel,” Mary suggested, attempting to make a healthy choice.

With your breakfast choices in hand, you made your way over to the table where the rest of your teammates were seated. As you started to dig into your food, Leah, one of your fellow players, entered the room and frowned slightly, spotting the empty seats next to you.

“Where are Lucy and Keira?” Leah inquired.

“They’ve snuck out again,” Alex responded with a grin.

“Again!” Ella chimed in.

“Yeah, they’re making a habit of it,” Mary added.

Curious about the potential romance between Lucy and Keira, you leaned in closer to the conversation. “Do you think those two are…” You hesitated, not wanting to interrupt.

“Those two are what?” Ella asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“I don’t know, seeing each other,” you finally managed to say.

Laughter erupted around the table as your teammates realized your innocence. Ella, still chuckling, replied, “Oh, you, it’s so obvious. How have you only figured it out now?”

Blushing, you joined in the laughter, grateful for the camaraderie and warmth of your teammates. Breakfast discussions were more than just food; they were about friendship, support, and the occasional secret romance that managed to escape your keen observation.

As conversations divided into different groups, you found yourself immersed in discussions about potential Arsenal transfers with Leah. Then, Greenwood, known for her playful spirit, introduced a new topic.

“I know how about we play a game of Dead or Alive,” Greenwood proposed.

“That sounds… interesting,” you replied, intrigued but uncertain.

“No, it’s not like that,” Greenwood clarified with a grin. "Basically we go around the room and discuss what footballers we'd like to have breakfast with;dead or alive."

“I’ll start,” Ella declared confidently. “Cristiano Ronaldo.”

“Pft, please. Messi is the GOAT,” Alessia responded, sparking a friendly debate between the two.

As Ella passionately defended Ronaldo’s abilities, she couldn’t help but glance over at Alessia, who was adamantly championing Messi. “Alessia, seriously, you must see that Ronaldo’s athleticism and versatility make him stand out!”

Alessia grinned, ready with her counter-argument. “But Ella, Messi’s ball control and creative genius on the field are unmatched. He makes the impossible seem routine!”

Their heated discussion captivated the attention of the entire group, creating a playful rivalry that echoed the global footballing debate.

Meanwhile, Milly’s voice cut through the Messi vs. Ronaldo debate as she chimed in, “Maradona. Hands down.”

“I second that,” Mary declared from across the room, solidifying her agreement with Milly’s choice.

Amidst the lively banter, the conversation once again shifted towards Leah’s unique choice in the “Dead or Alive” game. Her unwavering commitment to selecting her teammates was met with a mixture of amusement and cringe-inducing reactions.

Leah, now the center of attention, defended her choice with a grin. “I’d be with this group of people!”

The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by a collective groan and laughter as her teammates playfully teased her. “Leah, that’s… different! Is there really no one else?” someone inquired with a smirk.

Leah, ever steadfast, reiterated her preference. “Nope. I’d want to be with you guys. We’re all history makers!”

Ella, never one to let an opportunity pass, prodded further, “Okay, then, out of all of us, who would you pick?”

Leah hesitated momentarily, but the teasing encouragement from her teammates eventually won her over. “You can’t make me do that."

Mary, with a mischievous grin, added to the pressure, “Yes, she can.”

Leah finally turned her head towards you, who was quietly enjoying your tea amidst the ongoing discussions. “I’d choose Y/N. She’s pretty cool, you know.”

The room erupted into laughter once again, the tension in the conversation dissolving into shared amusement and camaraderie. The breakfast table was a place not just for food but for the deep connections and lighthearted moments that made this group of footballers a true family on and off the pitch.

But before the conversation could move on, someone asked, “You’d choose Noah, no?”

Your heart skipped a beat as a wave of emotions washed over you. Noah,, was a sore subject. Guilt gnawed at you because you had made it to the Women’s World Cup while Noah’s dreams had been cut short. Uncertain how to react, you felt vulnerable.

In that moment, you decided to mask your emotions with a laugh, albeit a shaky one. “Oh yeah, probably him! Haha.”

Your teammates recognized your discomfort and quickly changed the subject, wanting to ease the weight off your shoulders. Williamson, always considerate, stepped in, directing a question to Alessia about her transfer to Arsenal.

Alessia, appreciating the diversion, animatedly explained her move, and you silently thanked your teammates for their understanding. Your thoughts briefly returned to Noah, a constant presence in your heart, and the complex mix of emotions you carried with you. Amidst the laughter and camaraderie, you found solace in the support of your teammates, knowing that they were not just a team on the field but a family that understood and cared for each other’s burdens and joys.

Lucy and Keira made their way to the breakfast table, casually sitting down with apologetic smiles on their faces. "Sorry we're late, guys. We kind of overslept," Lucy explained, and Keira nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, it was a long night." Their late arrival raised eyebrows from everyone else around them, but not wanting to question it any further, the group simply dug into their breakfasts and started discussing life with each other.

As Lucy dived into her breakfast, she couldn't help but notice you, who seemed more interested in playing with your food than actually eating it. Concern gnawed at her, but she decided not to intrude on your moment and instead waited patiently until the meal's end to approach you.

Once the plates were nearly empty, Lucy turned to you with a warm smile. "Hey, Y/N. Mind if I join you for a moment?"

You looked up from your plate, pushing around your food. A faint smile touched your lips as you replied, "Sure, Lucy. What's up?"

Lucy leaned in a bit closer, lowering her voice. "I've noticed you're not really eating, and you seem a bit distant. Is everything okay?"

Your smile faded slightly, and you hesitated for a moment. "I've just been feeling a bit off lately. It's nothing major, just some stress and worries."

Lucy nodded understandingly. "I get it. We all have our moments. Sometimes, a walk by the beach can help clear your mind. If you ever want to talk or just take a break like this, I'm here for you."

Your smile brightened again, appreciating the offer. "Thanks, Lucy. That sounds nice."

As breakfast came to an end, Lucy decided to put her words into action. "Well, it's still early, and I thought maybe we could take a walk down to the beach. Clear our heads, you know?"

You, though confused by the unexpected gesture, was intrigued. "A walk to the beach? Okay, sounds nice. Let's go."

You both left the breakfast table behind, heading towards the beach together, leaving behind uour concerns and worries for a while, lost in the serene beauty of the early morning waves.

Lucy and you sat on the edge of the football field, their legs dangling over the side as they caught their breath after a rigorous practice session running along the beach. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue over the field, creating a tranquil atmosphere.

You turned to Lucy, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What made you want to be a footballer, Lucy?"

Lucy leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows and staring up at the darkening sky. "Dunno. Always liked it. PE was about the only thing I was good at. And well, it was always fun to beat the boys. Why?"

You hesitated, her gaze shifting to the grass beneath her feet. "Dunno. It doesn't matter-"

Lucy sensed something was bothering You. She nudged you gently. "No, what is it?"

You sigh and finally admitted, "I just feel like sometimes I don't deserve to be here, you know. Like maybe someone else should have my place."

Lucy's eyes widened with empathy. She turned her head to look at you directly. "Hey! That's not true. You're brilliant! Yesterday is a prime example of it."

Your uncertainty lingered as she mumbled, "Hmm."

Lucy reached out and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Trust me, Sarina doesn't pick just anyone. She chose you for a reason. You need to accept that."

You nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced. "I know. I just feel like-"

Lucy interrupted, changing the subject, "Your family must be so proud."

You sighed, your expression growing somber. She picked at a blade of grass absentmindedly. "Hmm. No, that would be great, but uh... they kinda see football as the thing that killed my brother, so uh... we just avoid the topic."

Lucy's face softened, sympathy in her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Y/N-"

You shook her head, managing a small smile. "Don't be. I have Jude and I have my dad, and now I have this group. I am truly blessed. I just can't speak about it at home, that's all."

Lucy nodded in understanding. "Just know, family isn't always blood. We look out for each other, alright? If you're ever in doubt of your place, which you shouldn't be, come speak to us, alright?"

Your smile grew, genuine gratitude in your eyes. "Thank you, Lucy. I needed to hear that." You both sat there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, the bonds of their friendship strengthening with each passing day.

From that moment onwards, Lucy took on a role in your life that went beyond just being a teammate. She became like an older sister to you, always there to lend a supportive ear and offer guidance. Her concern for your well-being extended beyond the football field.

Lucy made it her mission to ensure that you were okay, both physically and emotionally. She’d check in with you regularly, asking about your day, your struggles, and your dreams. You appreciated the genuine care Lucy showed her, and it helped ease her feelings of self-doubt.

But Lucy wasn’t just all sweetness and comfort. She also knew how to push you to be your best self. During practice sessions, Lucy would challenge you to give your all, to push past your limits, and to believe in your own abilities. She’d remind you of the talent and potential that Sarina saw in you.

Your bond strengthened with each passing day. Lucy’s presence became a source of strength for you, and you found yourself growing more confident on and off the field. Lucy’s tough love and unwavering support became the driving force behind your determination to prove yourself.

lionesses + england

Liked by ,chloekelly,alessiarusso and 120,000 others

lionesses How brilliant was y/n today! First world cup and senior women's debut

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germanywasrobbed Yeh, kept stumbling over everyone...

y/nisno.1 @germanywasrobbed your still bitter about the euros....

user124 she is actually so iconic

user890 legend 🔥

user3516 starting lineup soon? Morrison, James and Russo - a trio we'd love to see!

You spent most of the World Cup matches observing the action from the substitute bench, a place you'd grown far too familiar with. You knew you were not as seasoned or experienced as your teammates, many of whom had been part of the national team for years. As the tournament progressed, you often found yourself itching to be on the pitch, to contribute to the team's success.

However, your moment finally arrived during the crucial game against China in the group stages. It was the final few minutes of the match, and your coach decided it was time to give you a chance. You exchanged a few nervous glances with your fellow substitutes as you prepared to enter the game. Your heart pounded, and your mind was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

As you stood at the sideline, ready to make your entrance, Chloe Kelly, one of the team's stars, approached you with a reassuring smile.

Chloe Kelly: "Y/N, it's your moment now. You've worked hard for this. Go out there and give it your all. You've got this!"

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for Chloe's support. As Chloe walked back towards the bench, she leaned in and whispered, "Good luck, Y/N. Show them what you're made of!"

With those words of encouragement ringing in your ears, you stepped onto the pitch. The roar of the crowd enveloped you, and the electric energy of the World Cup filled the air. You knew that this was your opportunity to prove yourself, to demonstrate your dedication and determination to your teammates and fans alike.

As you sprinted towards the penalty box, the stadium buzzed with anticipation. The commentators, Martin Tyler and John Motson, added to the atmosphere.

Martin Tyler: "And here comes a surprise move! Y/N, the young talent, is making a run for it as she takes the ball from Walsh!"

John Motson chimed in, "That's right, folks! She's showing some incredible speed and determination."

But the defenders were closing in on Y/N faster than expected. Martin Tyler remarked, "Indeed, they are not giving her an inch. She's got to make a decision fast!"

Inside the penalty box, your heart raced. The electric energy of the football match was surging through her like a storm. You knew the game was already well in hand; your teammates had scored five impressive goals. Yet, you had an insatiable desire to make your mark.

In that moment, you felt a mix of emotions. You were a rookie, inexperienced, and you felt out of place among these skilled players. Scoring now would not only be a personal triumph but also secure your legacy as someone who could rise to the occasion when it mattered most.

As you prepared to take the shot, the world seemed to slow down. Two defenders closed in on you. Martin Tyler's voice filled the stadium once again, "Y/N now inside the penalty box, she's going for the shot!"

But just as you were about to unleash the shot that could define your career, the defenders pulled you down. John Motson exclaimed, "Oh, but she's taken down by two defenders! The referee blows the whistle!"

Martin Tyler continued, "That's a clear foul, and Y/N had a golden opportunity there. This could be a game-changing moment!"

On the ground, you felt a rush of disappointment and frustration. Yet, there was also a glimmer of hope. The free-kick in this dangerous position could still be a chance to make your mark.

With determination burning in your eyes, you stepped up to take the free-kick. The crowd held its breath, and your teammates waited with bated anticipation. But in a last-minute decision, you spotted James, unmarked and ready. In that critical moment, you felt a surge of confidence in your abilities but also recognized the opportunity to make a play that would secure the goal.

You didn't take the shot yourself. Instead, you expertly curved the ball towards James, who was positioned perfectly. As James leaped to meet the pass, you could see the realization dawning on the defenders too late. James connected with the ball, sending it crashing into the back of the net with precision.

The stadium erupted in cheers, celebrating the goal. Your heart swelled with happiness at having contributed to the team's success, but a hint of annoyance gnawed at you. You knew you had the skill to take that shot yourself, to potentially score and secure your legacy as a goal-scorer. Yet, in that crucial moment, you had chosen the path of teamwork over individual glory.

As your teammates celebrated around you, you couldn't help but smile, recognizing the power of unity in football. But deep down, the desire to prove yourself in a solo effort still burned brightly. You were determined that your next opportunity would be the one where you could shine individually and claim that goal for yourself.

As you made your way toward the changing room, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins after the thrilling game, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out to find a call from your boyfriend, Jude. The smile that had been playing on your lips since the goal widened as you answered the call.

"Hey, Jude," you greeted, your voice filled with excitement.

"Y/N, you were brilliant!" Jude's voice came through with unbridled enthusiasm, and you could hear the celebratory cheers of his teammates in the background when he mentioned your name. It warmed your heart.

"You think?" You replied, your own excitement mirrored in your voice.

"I know! That was such a good goal!"

"James did it, I just helped," you modestly downplayed your role

But Jude wasn't having it. "Nope, Mrs. My girl knows how to shoot. She may have done it, but I know you could've too."

You chuckled at Jude's unwavering support. "Thanks, Jude. It means a lot. I can't wait to celebrate with the team."

Jude's voice softened, filled with pride and affection. "I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Enjoy the moment, and I'll be right here cheering you on from home."

You listened intently as Jude continued, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering belief in you.

"Remember, don't be afraid to take those chances yourself. You've worked so hard for this moment, and you have the talent. Even if the whole world were against you because you missed, I'd still be proud of you because I know how hard you've worked."

Your eyes glistened with emotion as you absorbed his words. You knew that having someone who believed in you, who saw your potential even when you doubted yourself, was a precious gift. "I won't forget that, Jude. I promise I'll keep giving it my all, no matter what."

With renewed determination and the loving support of your boyfriend, you headed into the changing room, ready to celebrate the win with your teammates. You knew that your journey in football was filled with ups and downs, but with Jude by your side, you felt unstoppable.

As soon as you made your way to the changing room, the door swung open, and you were greeted with a thunderous round of applause from your teammates. The room was filled with cheers, hugs, and a palpable sense of pride and camaraderie.

Your captain, Leah, stepped forward and wrapped you in a warm embrace. "Y/N, that was incredible! You made a real difference out there!"

One by one, your teammates surrounded you, offering their congratulations and sharing in the joy of the hard-fought victory. The room was filled with laughter and chatter, and you felt an overwhelming sense of belonging and acceptance among this remarkable group of athletes.

Chloe Kelly, the teammate who had encouraged you before you stepped onto the pitch, gave you a high-five and a wide smile. "Told you, Y/N, you're a game-changer!"

The celebrations continued as the team relished the moment together, and you couldn't help but feel the warmth of their support and friendship. It was a scene of pure elation, a reminder of why you loved the game and cherished your place among these incredible women, led by Captain Leah.

Amidst the festivities, the last to come and give you a hug was Lucy Bronze, one of the team's seasoned stars. She embraced you tightly, and in that close moment, she leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're the Morrison they'll talk about."

Her words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. Lucy's acknowledgment of your performance, and the reference to Morrison, a legendary figure in the sport, filled you with a sense of honor and responsibility. It was a powerful reminder of the potential and promise you held as a rising talent in the world of football.

With a grateful smile, you nodded at Lucy, silently thanking her for her encouragement and for making you feel like an integral part of the team's success.

lucybronze

liked by lionesses, y/nmorrison, and 56,000 others

lucybronze Now it gets tricky....

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keirawalsh Stage of 16 here we come. 🔥

user561 i'm your biggest fan

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lucybronze @keirawalsh nope 👀

user134 lucy, keira its literally 4am

y/nmorrison @lucybronze & @keriawalsh you two! go to sleep! 😂

#lucy bronze #lucybronze x keria walsh #wonze #lucybronze x reader #leah williamson #leahwilliamson x reader #jude bellingham #footballreader #fanfiction #womens football #womens world cup #englandwomensfootball #mary earps #millie bright #racheal daly #ella toone #chloe kelly

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laundrybiscuits · 5 months ago

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This is the start to a wholly unasked-for sequel to wait for the season that I’ve been poking at for some time. It’s definitely even weirder than that already-kind-of-weird fic, so maybe give it a miss if you’re looking for the standard fare. Steve isn’t even mentioned in this snippet. I'll post something more normal soon, I promise.

From the living end of memory, the past seems inevitable.

You had to go through that terrible thing so that you could become the type of person who would survive that later, more terrible thing that most likely occurred in a thematically resonant way—and with a little determined creativity, the thematic resonances start popping up all over the place.

So then you arrive on the other side of the terrible thing, the second terrible thing, with your memories all worn smooth like rocks that have been jostling around in a pocket for years. They fit together now, no inconvenient angles or edges anymore. It’s all one continuous shape, the shape of how things happened, and you tell yourself that there was no other way for your story to go.

It was always going to happen this way.

It was always going to be the concrete; the buzzing overhead lights; the placid, thoughtful voice saying “Let’s see if we can get it to wear some clothes, why don’t we?”

Embarrassingly enough, that’s the first thing Eddie remembers from his new life. He’s seen clips of the grainy footage from the months before that, but when he tries to remember lurching around and sinking his teeth into some disgusting raw slab of meat, it’s like a black hole. His mind doesn’t even want to get near the edges. He feels irrationally like if he thinks too hard about it, his mind will decide that actually, sentience isn’t such a hot shit idea after all, and he’ll tip right back down and down and down.

———

Wayne’s old now, and it makes Eddie uncomfortable in a way he doesn’t really want to look at too hard.

Wayne had never been young, exactly; Eddie doesn’t remember a whole lot from back when he first went to stay with Wayne, just a lot of promises that it was temporary, promises that stopped coming after a while. But what he does remember looks a hell of a lot like Wayne when Eddie was nineteen or twenty: wrinkles, bald spot always hidden under some ballcap or other, grumbling I’m an old man but Eddie never truly believing it because somehow, over the years, he’d got to believing that Wayne would always be there. Fucking stupid! So so fucking stupid from Eddie, who on paper looks like someone who should know better.

Now Wayne’s actually old. Now he moves so slow, Eddie gets impatient just watching him through the lit-up window, doing the washing-up and puttering around the kitchen with stooped shoulders.

It’s easier on him if I don’t, thinks Eddie, but he already knows he’s lying as he thinks it. Or rather, he’s lying in a very specific way: it’s easier for Eddie if he pretends Wayne is dead, but probably not so much the other way around.

That makes him a pretty terrible person, he guesses, but then again—not exactly a person anymore. He doesn’t know how much that matters.

It would hurt him, thinks Eddie, tentatively, and that might actually be a little bit true. It’s just not as true as the other truth: that Eddie wants to keep Wayne locked in the box marked BEFORE because it’s too difficult to even think about explaining. That if Wayne’s back in his life, Eddie has to reckon with him as someone who will just continue to get older every single day until one day Wayne is as old as he will ever be.

It’s easier if he doesn’t. Doesn’t he deserve an easier life? Didn’t he go through purgatory? Hasn’t he paid and paid and paid? He should get whatever he wants, he should rip through the skin of the Earth to sink his teeth into the candy flesh, chew it up—

So yeah, he’s a monster in more ways than one.

———

There’s BEFORE and there’s AFTER, but really that’s just a narrative device. Really there are a lot of before-afters.

There was before-after Eddie woke up; that’s the big one, maybe. Then there’s before-after Eddie is Eddie again and could think in words like a human. Like a person. Then there’s before-after it becomes scorchingly, irreversibly clear that Eddie is neither human nor person.

And of course, there’s the before-after Eddie finds himself outside in government-issued sweatpants and a plain blue t-shirt, looking up at the gibbous moon for the first time in his new not-quite-life, and feels absolutely nothing about it.

It hits him later, kind of. He doesn’t even try to get somewhere safe (for whom?) to bunk that first night, just curls up in the nearest Greyhound terminal and felt sorry for himself, performatively. It seems like the thing to do. Woe is Eddie, friendless nightmare beast, freakier than anyone’d ever guessed he could be, and not in a fun way.

He hadn’t even—

Back before, like before he’d even died in the first place, he probably would’ve taken it harder. Hah. Harder.

But it hadn’t even occurred to him to reach into his own stringless scrubs and make baby Jesus cry, not for a long time. When it had, he’d felt oddly proud, as if that was proof that he's not some mindless beast at his core. That's probably not quite right, though. He thinks about it some more and decides it doesn't mean anything after all.

And then when dawn hits the Greyhound terminal, he belatedly realizes that shit, maybe he should’ve been thinking more about what vampires can and can’t do, traditionally, and he’s a little worried about burning to a crisp but it’s already too late, so he just rolls under the bench with the last of his consciousness and hopes like hell he looks too dangerous to mess with.

Somehow he’s okay; somehow the cops aren’t even called. This is by way of being an inference, given that once the sun is out for real, Eddie is for all intents and purposes no longer a participant in goings-on. But he wakes up in the orange light of the sunset and everything seems to be the way he left it, maybe a handful more Burger King wrappers and fresher eau de urine gathering in the corners. The slim roll of go-away-please cash is still in his white cotton briefs. He’s not in a drunk tank and nobody’s prodding him. Nobody’s even around. Cautiously, he wonders if it’s another freaky power they just never thought to check for.

He doesn’t feel much like testing it, and also it’s actually really fucking uncomfortable to be crammed underneath a bench like he is, so he crawls out and starts trying to pull together some kind of life.

———

“Eddie,” the labcoat says, while he’s still staring up at the night sky for the first time in almost a decade.

Yeah, that whole thing where he walked outside and looked up at the moon wasn’t actually that romantic. They didn’t exactly let him waltz out into the wide world with a bindle on his shoulder; they decontaminated him, made him sign a bunch of stuff, and had this labcoat in sensible shoes slip him a shifty fifty in exchange for promising to come back on a regular basis for “check-ups” that they both know aren’t for Eddie’s benefit. They pretend otherwise, because it’s nicer that way.

“What,” says Eddie. “I’m just saying, I dunno how the economy works nowadays, but I’m guessing fifty bucks isn’t gonna get me too far.”

The labcoat pushes gold-framed glasses up her nose. “You understand that we did not have to do this at all, right?” She doesn’t sound—she’s not being mean, or even condescending. She’s just telling him so he understands. “You do not legally exist.”

That’s all she says, but Eddie knows what she means. He also knows that this money’s coming with strings, and he wants to get the absolute most he can out of this while he still has something they want.

“Okay, but—”

The labcoat rolls her fucking eyes and reaches into her own fucking pleated slacks and pulls out her own fucking wallet, counting out two twenties and a ten gone soft around the corners. She probably gets paid real good. There’s a picture of a kid in the wallet, maybe five or six years old; it looks like a school photo with that weird cloudy blue-grey background. The kid looks happy. He’s grinning. His name is probably Chris or Lionel or Jacob. He’s probably in some kind of youth T-ball league where he mostly sits in the outfield and eats grass. He’ll probably get into a good college someday, maybe on a baseball scholarship after he gets really good at T-ball after all and hits the winning home run for his high school varsity team. It will be a whole different millennium and he will never, ever know that the Psych 101 class he’s skipping to dry-hump his English-major girlfriend was paid for by the three and a half years his mommy spent administering heavy-duty sedatives to Eddie so they could run all their little tests without Eddie getting bitey.

“Thanks,” says Eddie, because he’s got manners. He’s still got manners.

“We’ll see you in a month,” the labcoat says.

#okay so—I’ve been reading a lot of postmodern fiction lately #I’ve generally been a pomo enjoyer for many years despite the fact that it makes me a parody of myself #but that is why this is a wee bit more experimental. I do not expect people to like it!#this is pure self-indulgence #fic: maybe when the earth starts to melt #fic: wait for the season to come back to me

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: The "Bonus Tracks" have arrived! AKA: Sequels to “Never Say Goodbye.”

I have two parts in the wings for you, but let's start with Part 1...

Word Count: 4,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death, cavity-inducing fluff (all to come through Parts 1 & 2)

Bonus Track #1: Disturbing the Peace

Dean walked into the bullpen of the Sioux Falls Police Department with a file in hand.

He went into one of the holding cells, where his latest perp was waiting for him with a salty attitude and an untouched paper cup filled with water.

“Jessie Deluca. Thirteen years old, already with two priors for petty theft,” Dean read off the file.

“Wasn’t me,” the kid said coolly.

Dean flashed Jessie a wry smile and sat across from him at the table.

“Sticking gum in the camera lens is creative, I’ll admit. But the nice old man who owns the 7-Eleven recognized your jacket,” Dean said, gesturing at the kid’s dark red hoodie. “Maybe next time don’t dress like a fire hydrant.”

“Plenty of people could have this jacket. Not like it’s Prada or anything,” said Jessie. He was stubborn, crossing his arms in the way only punk-ass kids could accomplish. “Besides, you’re not allowed to question me without my mom here, dipshit. I’m guessing you’ve been a cop for all of what, five minutes?”

Dean’s expression flattened into a more wan smile. “Oh, your mom’s on the way. We’re just chattin’.”

“Well I don’t feel like talking to a dumbass plebe,” Jessie quipped, with all due snark.

“All right, kid, listen the hell up,” Dean said more sharply. His gaze tightened with sternness. He glanced behind him, where he suspected your father Jack was watching. Dean was often partnered up with Jody, but she was out sick today. Which meant he had “the hawk” watching his every move.

Dean leveled the kid with a look.

“Fact is, you’ve got three strikes here, Jessie,” he said. “Now, you were dumb enough to go in with a gun. And we will find where you stashed it.”

Jessie snorted in response.

“…But you’re lucky,” Dean said. “No one got hurt this time. Problem is, at the rate we’re going here, you’re not gonna make it to next time.”

Jessie seemed to pause at that. But after a moment of indecision, he leaned forward on his crossed arms on the table.

“What part of ‘you can’t talk to me’s not getting through your thick head, Hasselhoff?”

Dean frowned, but before he could lose his temper, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked down and realized you were texting him.

Hey, sorry I’m going to be late tonight, you said.

Dean raised a finger at the kid. “I’ll be back.”

Jessie gave him a whatever look. Dean waited until his back was turned to roll his eyes. He exited the holding cell and found Jack on the other side.

“Kid’s a piece of work,” Dean said.

“Remind you of anybody?” Jack asked slyly.

Dean scoffed. “Maybe. I’ll be back, but let me know if his mom shows up.”

Jack nodded, and it gave Dean leave to get back to his desk and call you back. It took you so long to answer that he thought you almost wouldn’t.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted. It brought a small smile to his face.

“Hey. How’s work goin’?”

“It’s ridiculous. Jerry wants fifty new books logged and shelved by the end of the day. And we’re getting a new shipment in tomorrow,” you replied. “…Well, they’re not new. They’re ancient. Transferred from a museum that closed in Boise. But you get the idea.”

Dean’s smile threatened to grow, but it faded when he remembered why he needed to check in on you.

“Is that why you’re getting in late again tonight?” he asked.

“No, I promised I’d help Jason with his applications for grad school,” you said, making Dean frown.

“Who the hell is Jason?”

“Remember? Mrs. Jenkins’ grandson?”

Dean’s frown deepened. “No, that guy? Come on. You already helped him with, uh, cleaning out his grandma’s apartment, right?”

“Yeah, because she died, Dean.”

“Then it was cleaning out his apartment.”

“So he could move into her apartment,” you pointed out. “That he inherited upon her death.”

“And now you’re gonna go over there and share a screen all night?” Dean didn’t like that thought. Not one bit. “I don’t trust him, babe. He’s shifty.”

“Dean,” you tried patiently. “We practically grew up in the neighborhood together. I’m just helping him out because he’s gone through a rough time.”

Dean quieted. He still wasn’t totally on board, but he didn’t want to sound like a needy bitch either.

“All right, whatever,” he said.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me,” you cajoled. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Right.” Perhaps he was a bit grumpy, but he felt justified. Due to both of your schedules, he hadn’t even shared a meal with you all week.

“Okay, I have to get back to work. Bye!” you said, hanging up shortly after. Dean didn’t have a chance to reply.

He sighed, pocketing his cell.

He returned to Jessie, where he noticed the water cup was now drained.

“Having fun?” he asked the kid.

“About as fun as you look right now. What, fight with your girlfriend?” Jessie sassed.

Dean gave him a flat look.

Jessie smirked. “Ah, definitely a fight.”

Dean sighed. “Wasn’t fight, just…you know what, mind your business.”

He discreetly checked his phone again, seeing if you’d sent him any other messages. But the kid had sharp eyes. He peered over the table at Dean’s background.

It was one he’d taken on his first date with you. Really, he’d surprised you with the picture when you two got to the restaurant.

You were trying to fix your hair after the wind had mussed it up. But at the angle he took it, you looked equal parts adorably confused, playfully amused, and sexy in your black suede dress and wind-swept hair.

“She’s hot,” Jessie nodded.

“Shut up,” Dean said, locking and pocketing his phone. “What’re you, like twelve? And still stealing Twix at the gas station? Do better, dude.”

“Too hot for you, even,” the kid continued, as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “Probably downloading another guy’s hard drive, if you know what I mean.”

“All right, smartass. That’s enough,” Dean said, with a more irritated frown.

That was when Jack came into the holding cell, escorting a woman inside.

“Jessie’s mother, Ms. Sandy Deluca,” Jack said.

“Just Sandy, please. You don’t have to remind me about the deadbeat I married,” she said, giving Dean a cursory (but appreciative) once-over. He gave her a thin smile.

He had to assume she was in her forties, but she also looked rough, and smelled like the crusty bowels of a bar.

“And you. What the fuck’re you doin’, huh?” Sandy bat her son across the back of her son’s head. Jessie flinched and withdrew inside, more like the child he actually was.

Dean noted all of this, sharing a subtle frown with Jack. Both men sat down across from mother and son and explained that Jessie was suspected of robbing a 7-Eleven at gun point. The owner saw him take off. And at some point, before Dean caught him, the kid managed to toss his gun.

“It’s only a matter of time before we find it. And if the prints match, that’s it,” Jack said. “Jessie gets booked for a felony charge.”

“He ain’t did it though. You don’t even have him on tape,” Sandy said. “All you got is one senile old man.”

She had a point, but not one Jack or Dean were willing to concede.

“If he admits what he did, we can work with him,” said Jack. “Maybe the felony charge gets dropped down to petty theft, and he probably only does a short stint in juvenile detention.”

Dean stared at Jessie, his thin, boyish face, his sandy brown hair, and shuttered eyes. And maybe Dean saw a bit too much of himself.

He tapped Jack’s elbow beneath the table, earning the man’s attention.

“Well, we’ll let you think on it for a few minutes,” Jack said. He got up along with Dean and headed outside the cell. They were able to look in through the one-way window.

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Jack asked.

“We can’t hold him. Not for long, unless the gun shows up,” Dean pointed out. “He stole, what, thirty bucks in bread, cans of tuna, three Twix bars? He’s a punk, but he’s not a killer. He’s just hungry.”

Jack considered this with a sigh through his nose.

“Yeah. But it’s his third strike on theft. This time he took a piece. Armed robbery, even for a kid…that’s gonna require jail time,” he said.

“Okay, how about this. Why don’t we let him go for now, hook him again when we find the gun?” Dean suggested.

“And maybe we don’t look too hard for it. That what you’re trying to tell me?” Jack asked.

Dean just held the other man’s gaze, leaving the decision up to him. But Jack had come to know his future son-in-law too well for that.

He sighed again. “All right, we’ll let him go. For now. But this is his last chance.”

Dean called his brother on the way home from work, tired, but ultimately in a better mood than he had been after talking to you.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, Sammy. How’s the Big Apple?”

“Musty,” Sam said with a chuckle. “But good. Eileen and I are headed to a Broadway show tonight, to celebrate the end of semester.”

Dean smiled at that. Trust Sam to find his soulmate in a subway station. And trust the universe to land his brother with another hunter.

Or a huntress, as Dean had teased him. A banshee had killed her parents when she was a baby, and had rendered her deaf in the process. A hunter had raised her, and Eileen had continued the family business into adulthood, all the while looking for the creature that had killed her parents.

When she met Sam, however, he of course wanted to help her. He even took a week off school once they tracked the banshee to Lebanon, and helped her kill the thing himself. Now though, Sam had been subtly trying to convince her to retire from the hunting life. To build a life with him.

But, as always with hunters, Eileen seemed wary of fully committing to leave the life she’d always known.

Dean could understand that.

“That’s right! My smart-ass brother got all A’s in lawyer school,” he said. “I should get one of those bumper stickers.”

Sam scoffed. “Right, like you’d tape up the Impala like that.”

Dean grinned. “Anyway, end of semester, huh? That mean you’re coming back home soon?”

“Not this weekend, but the week after. Just in time to help you guys prep for the wedding,” said Sam. “It’s like, what, three weeks out?”

“And counting,” Dean replied. He couldn’t believe it was getting this close either.

“Eileen and I’ll stay with Bobby though. We don’t want to crowd your apartment,” Sam said. “How’s everything going, by the way? How is she?”

Dean huffed. “She’s probably just fine.”

“Probably?” Sam noted. “What’s going on?”

Dean was reluctant to talk about it, but his brother knew him too well to just let it go. He prodded until Dean had no choice but to spill it.

“The wedding’s just got her all over the place. Plus her job’s got her working evening shifts half the week sometimes,” Dean said. “And when she’s not doing that, she’s volunteering herself all over the damn neighborhood…”

Dean chuckled dryly then, realizing how much he sounded like a needy chick right now.

“I don’t know,” he said. “God, I sound like a freakin’ sap.”

“No. It sounds like you miss her,” Sam said.

“Hmm,” Dean nodded. He popped a frozen dinner into the microwave and watched it spin. “Yeah, probably.”

A lot, a voice in his mind corrected. He knew he didn’t have to say it for Sam to get the picture.

“Just tell her how you feel, man,” Sam said. “You know for a fact that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you.”

Sharing and caring had never been Dean’s strong suit, by any means, but he knew his brother might have a point this time.

So he waited up for you. For hours.

He started to fall asleep on the couch before he realized what time it was, creeping past midnight. He texted you, called you. It all went unanswered. Dean started worrying long before then, but he tried not to let his mind jump to conclusions.

He cleaned the kitchen and waited. He tried watching the next couple of episodes in season three of Game of Thrones, your favorite show, but couldn’t concentrate on the storylines. He usually had you to explain the complicated plot points and remind him of who’s who.

So he switched over to Dr. Sexy M.D., which you’d tried not to judge him for.

But finally, around 1:00 a.m. on a weekday, Dean felt your presence before you pull into the driveway. He was sitting on the couch, and he crossed his arms when you walked in.

Still, you gave a tired smile when you saw him. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” he responded, but you knew immediately that he was off. You saw the tight look on his face, his tense demeanor. You even caught a glimpse of his emotions before he cut you off…which in itself was a tell that he wasn’t in a good mood.

You frowned and set your purse and work bag next to him on the couch.

“What’s the matter?” you asked. Dean raised both brows at you, as if he was annoyed that you had to ask. It wasn’t like you could read his mind.

Well, you could, if he hadn’t closed himself off.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

Your brows knitted at his tone.

“You know where I was,” you said. “I was helping Jason—”

“You’ve been with that guy at his house all night?”

You tried to give him a patient look, but you were bone tired. And you hadn’t expected to get the third degree from the minute you stepped through the door.

“Dean, I told you. We were working on his applications to grad school, mostly on his entrance essays.”

“And that really took all night, with no breaks?” he asked. Now with a more suspicious brow raise.

“Of course,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I mean, we stopped to eat dinner.”

But then you raised a finger as something occurred to you.

“And oh! He showed me his new motorcycle,” you said, with excitement that he didn’t share. “Dean, you’d freakin’ love it. I can’t remember what model he said it was, but I told him, ‘My fiancée’s a major gear head. He’d love to get a motorcycle.’ But I’d literally die if you made me get on one of those things—”

“So, correct me if I’m wrong,” Dean said, interrupting you as he got up from the couch to stand across from you.

“You spent all night at some guy’s house. You had dinner with him, and he tried to impress you with his new goddamn motorcycle?”

You considered what he was suggesting, and you had to suppress a grimace. Yeah, it did sound bad, but it really wasn’t.

“It wasn’t like that at all, Dean,” you said. “Jason’s just…he’s feeling a bit lost. He wants to continue school, but he’s not sure if he can do it. His grandma practically raised him, and it’s a whole thing—”

“That’s not your damn problem!” Dean said, raising his voice. “You realize that, right?”

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a frown.

“Okay, you need to take that way down,” you warned him.

Dean took a beat, briefly closing his eyes as he reigned himself in.

“I’m sorry, all right,” he said. And he drew a hand over his tired face. “It’s just…lately, for the past few months, it seems like you’re never here. We’re like ships passing in the night. And if I didn’t check in, I’d never fucking hear from you.”

You sighed, staring back at your fiancée with both hot guilt and a prickle of resentment.

“So, do you like how it feels?” you asked.

Dean sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, welcome to my world, Dean,” you said. “I lived that existence for the first two years of our relationship.”

He couldn’t exactly refute that, but it still hurt to be reminded of what he put you through.

“What, are you doing this on purpose or something?” he asked. “You’re punishing me. Is that it?”

You relented then, reaching for his arm.

“Of course not, Dean,” you said. “I just find it ironic that you can’t handle just a taste of what I went through.”

Dean’s lips pursed.

“Until I finish training our new hires, there isn’t much I can do about what my job demands of me,” you said. “But if you want to help me, how about everything I’m doing to plan this wedding? It’s literally a month away, and there’s plenty to do. I feel like I’m going insane with these vendors calling me 24/7, mostly demanding money.”

You covered your face with your hands for a moment, shaking your head.

“Tomorrow I have my final fitting for the dress, after work,” you said. “This weekend I have to finalize the seating chart, make the final deposit on the venue, and a shit-ton of other things.”

“Okay, well I can help with that,” Dean said, trying to take your hand. “All you need to do is ask.”

You gave him a peeved look.

“You see, I would. But the last time I tried, you said you were working late,” you said. “I called my dad to see where you were. Come to find out, you’d left early.”

Shit, Dean thought.

“When was that?” he asked.

“Last week, Thursday,” you jogged his memory.

Shit, he thought again.

What you didn’t know was that he left early that day to pick up your wedding ring, which he’d had customized for you. But he couldn’t tell you that without giving away the surprise.

“Listen, there’s an explanation for that.”

“Well right now, I don’t feel like hearing it,” you said. You slipped your hand out of his and left him to beeline for the shower.

Dean watched you go, silently simmering. Was this what he had to look forward to when you two actually got married?

You and Dean didn’t even look at one another as you got ready for bed in silence.

You were annoyed that he didn’t trust you. A bit resentful that he chose now to complain about you being busy, when you’d tried so many times to get him to help you with the wedding planning process.

But at the same time, as you two climbed into bed without uttering so much as a word, it felt like you won the battle, but lost the war.

And you didn’t feel any better when you woke up the next morning.

Because when you saw the empty side of the bed next to you, but didn’t hear Dean puttering around the apartment, you realized that he’d left for work without saying goodbye.

He usually greeted you with a kiss on the cheek or the forehead; the best alarm you’d ever had. But today, you were forced to wake with your alarm. So you turned it off on your phone and dutifully got up to get ready for work.

Your mind was buzzing with too much coffee on the drive over to the museum, and when you arrived, your phone sounded off in your purse. You checked it and found a text from Jason Jenkins.

Hey, thanks for coming over to help yesterday, he said. I think I’ll actually get into grad school now. These essays are top notch thanks to you.

Your lips quirked with a smile. You replied as you walked into the museum, waving hello to your boss, Jerry, as you went.

You’re welcome! you replied. Dean’s words from last night replayed in your mind, so you decided to keep it brief. But then, Jason replied again.

But I also had a good time last night, he said. You’re just so easy to talk to…would you want to come over for dinner? I make a mean carbonara.

You deflated when you read the text. Goddamn it.

And you knew then that Dean might’ve had a point last night. With a sigh, you raised your gaze to the heavens. You didn’t have enough coffee to deal with this.

But you knew you had to reply.

Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but—

You paused, then deleted that response. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but maybe you could say something that made your boundaries clear without making him feel bad about himself.

Sorry, Jason. I’m staying in with my fiancée tonight. But good luck! I’m sure you’ll get into grad school.

With that message sent, you pocketed your phone and continued to your desk in the museum library. It was surrounded by tall shelves of books from all over the world, and you often enjoyed perusing through them when you had down time (not that you had much of that these days).

Jerry came in, wheeling a large shipment of boxes. You gave him a wan smile at the sight.

“Delivery,” he said. “Need these books logged and shelved, please. By end of the day, if you can. Oh, and tell Charlotte we need more toner for the copy machine.”

You playfully saluted your boss. “On it.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I know it’s been a lot for the past few months, but you’re doing great, kid.”

You didn’t appreciate the kid remark, but you did thank him graciously. It was nice to be recognized for your work because you did take pride in it. But right now, as you looked at the ten large boxes piled on the dolly, you really wished you could control + alt + delete this day.

Instead, you sighed and opened the first box, pulling out a stack of heavy books. One of them caught your eye, as it was leather-bound, but bordered with gold, and had hieroglyphic images on the cover. The largest of which was a golden sun, encircling a lion’s head.

You weren’t supposed to touch the books without gloves on, but you were so intrigued that you forgot to slip on a pair before you reached for it in wonder.

The moment you touched the cover, however, a burst of energy swirled around the book—and then wrapped around your hand.

You didn’t realize it, but your mind went hazy as amber rings of magic illuminated your pupils.

Dean got home from a long day of work, sighing when he saw that the apartment was empty.

He felt bad for how things got left off between the two of you last night, but frankly, he was surprised (and maybe a little hurt) that you didn’t reach out to him at all today.

Usually when you guys argued, you were the first one to reach out to him after you both had time to cool down. You could be stubborn about things, just like him, but you were also quick to forgive. And that often forced him to confront his honest feelings.

When his phone started ringing, Dean paused in the living room and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, there! Is this Dean?”

“You got me. Who’s this?” he asked. It was the receptionist at the shop where you found your wedding dress. Apparently, you hadn’t shown up for the appointment of your final fitting, and you hadn’t called to reschedule.

“Well, that’s not like her,” Dean said with a frown. You’d never dropped the ball on anything having to do with the wedding. Not once.

“Let me get ahold of her and we’ll get back to you,” he said. The receptionist agreed, and the moment he hung up with her, he called you. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail.

A tendril of worry started to grow in his mind, but he tried to keep it at bay when he called your boss next.

According to Jerry, you took your lunch break early and never came back.

Dean’s worry became a living thing after that.

But before he could call Jack and mount a full police squad search, the front door of the apartment unlocked, and you walked through the door.

You looked completely fine in your business casual white blouse, pencil skirt, and heels, but you didn’t have your purse, work bag, or any of the usual things you carried.

Dean hung up with your boss and eyed you in disbelief.

“Well, well. I guess you’re playin’ hookie today,” he remarked dryly.

You gave him a cursory glance, but you all but ignored him on your way to the kitchen. Dean’s incredulousness grew, along with a spark of irritation.

He followed you into the kitchen, where you started rifling through the pantry looking for spices and herbs, of all things. You examined a clear parcel of thyme.

“What are you doing, babe?” Dean asked. “Are you tired? Did you just need to take a beat? Because I can understand that…”

You didn’t seem to be hearing him, so he grasped your hand.

“Hey, what the hell’s going on with you?” he asked. Your brows knitted together in annoyance.

“By the gods, what a nuisance.” You slipped your hand out of his and continued what you’re doing.

Dean felt struck with hurt as he stared at you once again in disbelief.

But then, a spidey sense began to prickle at the back of his neck. This wasn’t like you at all…

You finally seized him up through impassive eyes.

“Pretty,” you remarked, “but the world of men seems to have remained the same. Needy, clawing, and pathetic.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. He called your name uncertainly, but he realized something.

He couldn’t feel you. Not your thoughts, and not even your emotions through the soul bond. It was a gut instinct, but Dean's was rarely wrong.

Whoever was wearing your face, it wasn’t his girl.

You smirked and stepped toward him, drawing near enough to place a hand on his chest. He tensed, knowing that this wasn’t about to end well.

With a burst of amber-hued magic, you flung him across the room.

Dean crash-landed against the couch with a yelp and a grunt. He’d definitely be feeling that in his back later.

He heard the crashing of glass and ceramics hitting the hardwood floor after he fell. When he was able to slowly pick himself up, he saw that he’d shoved the couch into the coffee table, where a vase and a few frames had fallen.

And when he managed to lift his gaze to the rest of his surroundings, he found an empty apartment. The front door was left ajar.

You were gone…

Or at least, whoever possessed you was.

AN: So first of all, sorry for the cliffhanger lol. But Sam's soulmate is revealed! (I was VERY upset when Sam and Eileen didn't get their reunion when Jack brought back everyone after the "snap.")

Like my top note said, this will be two parts. Let me know what you think of Part 1!

Next Time:

Dean searches for you with Sam, Eileen, and Bobby's help. But there's just a few weeks before the wedding.

What could possibly go wrong?

Keep Reading: Bonus Track #2

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Dean Winchester Masterlist

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