#Skin Lightening soap

[sscplherbals-blog]

Buy Best Ayurvedic Fairness Soap Online | SSCPL Lazure Soap

Lazure Fairness Facial Soap with Saffron Turmeric Calendula Mulberry for Skin Whitening, Lightening, Glow, and Fairness. Herbal Ayurvedic Ingredients. Order Now | www.sscplherbals.com

[gencbeauty]

Kojic San Soap for Hyperpigmentation: Does It Really Work?

If you’re considering Kojic San soap for hyperpigmentation, it’s worth trying, but remember to be patient and consistent with your skincare routine. Visit https://gencbeauty.com

[bioprogreenmorocco]

 The Use of BioProGreen Moroccan Black Soap for Lightening Black Skin

Introduction

The quest for natural skincare solutions has led many to explore traditional beauty products, and one such gem is Moroccan black soap. Originating from the rich traditions of Moroccan skincare, this soap has been a staple in Moroccan hammams (bathhouses) for centuries. Known for its deep-cleansing and exfoliating properties, Moroccan black soap is now gaining popularity worldwide for its ability to improve skin texture and tone. Among the various brands available, BioProGreen stands out for its commitment to organic and natural ingredients. In this article, we will delve into the benefits of BioProGreen Moroccan black soap, its effectiveness in lightening black skin, and how it can be incorporated into a skincare routine for a radiant complexion.

Understanding Moroccan Black Soap

Moroccanblack soap, also known as "Beldi soap," is a plant-based paste made from a mixture of crushed olives, olive oil, and potash. Its rich, creamy texture and high content of vitamin E make it a potent natural exfoliant and moisturizer. Traditionally used in Moroccan hammams for cleansing and purifying the skin, black soap is renowned for its ability to remove dead skin cells, unclog pores, and reveal smoother, more radiant skin underneath.

BioProGreenMoroccan black soap is crafted using organic ingredients, ensuring that it is free from harmful chemicals and synthetic additives. This makes it an ideal choice for those seeking a natural and gentle approach to skincare.

The Science Behind Skin Lightening

Before exploring how Moroccan black soap can aid in lightening black skin, it's important to understand the science behind skin pigmentation and lightening. Skin color is primarily determined by the amount of melanin, a pigment produced by melanocytes, in the skin. Factors such as genetics, sun exposure, and hormonal changes can influence melanin production, leading to variations in skin tone.

Skin lightening refers to the process of reducing excess melanin production or removing pigmented dead skin cells to achieve a more even complexion. It's important to note that skin lightening should be approached with caution and care, as overly aggressive methods can damage the skin and lead to undesirable results.

How BioProGreen Moroccan Black Soap Lightens Black Skin

Exfoliation: One of the key benefits of Moroccan black soap is its ability to exfoliate the skin effectively. The soap's natural ingredients work together to gently remove dead skin cells that can cause the skin to appear dull and uneven. Regular exfoliation with BioProGreen Moroccan black soap helps reveal a brighter and more even skin tone by allowing fresh, healthy skin cells to surface.

Deep Cleansing: The deep-cleansing properties of Moroccan black soap help to unclog pores and remove impurities that can contribute to hyperpigmentation and uneven skin tone. By keeping the skin clean and free from debris, the soap helps prevent the formation of dark spots and blemishes.

Hydration and Nourishment: Unlike harsh chemical-based lightening products, BioProGreen Moroccan black soap nourishes and hydrates the skin. Its high content of olive oil and vitamin E helps to maintain the skin's moisture barrier, ensuring that the skin remains soft, supple, and healthy. Well-hydrated skin is less prone to dryness and irritation, which can exacerbate pigmentation issues.

Antioxidant Protection: The antioxidants in BioProGreen Moroccan black soap, particularly vitamin E, help protect the skin from free radical damage caused by environmental stressors such as pollution and UV radiation. By neutralizing free radicals, the soap helps prevent further skin darkening and promotes a more even skin tone.

Reducing Hyperpigmentation: Regular use of BioProGreen Moroccan black soap can help reduce the appearance of hyperpigmentation, such as dark spots and acne scars. The soap's exfoliating and cleansing properties, combined with its ability to nourish and protect the skin, make it an effective tool in achieving a clearer, more even complexion.

How to Use BioProGreen Moroccan Black Soap for Skin Lightening

Incorporating BioProGreen Moroccan black soap into your skincare routine is simple and can yield noticeable results over time. Here's a step-by-step guide on how to use the soap effectively:

Preparation: Before applying the soap, ensure that your skin is damp and slightly warm. This helps open up the pores and allows the soap to penetrate deeply. You can achieve this by taking a warm shower or steaming your face for a few minutes.

Application: Take a small amount of BioProGreen Moroccan black soap and apply it to your damp skin. Gently massage the soap into your skin using circular motions, focusing on areas with pigmentation issues or uneven skin tone. Be sure to avoid the delicate skin around the eyes.

Leave On: Allow the soap to sit on your skin for about 5-10 minutes. During this time, the soap will work to exfoliate and cleanse your skin, removing dead skin cells and impurities.

Exfoliation: After the soap has had time to work, use a gentle exfoliating glove or loofah to scrub your skin. This step helps remove the dead skin cells that have been loosened by the soap, revealing brighter and smoother skin underneath.

Rinse Off: Thoroughly rinse off the soap with warm water, ensuring that no residue remains on your skin. After rinsing, pat your skin dry with a clean towel.

Moisturize: Follow up with a hydrating moisturizer or natural oil, such as argan oil, to lock in moisture and keep your skin soft and supple. Hydration is key to maintaining the results and preventing dryness or irritation.

Frequency: For best results, use BioProGreen Moroccan black soap 1-2 times a week as part of your regular skincare routine. Over-exfoliating can lead to irritation, so it's important to give your skin time to recover between uses.

Additional Tips for Achieving a Brighter Complexion

While BioProGreen Moroccan black soap is an excellent tool for lightening and brightening the skin, it's important to adopt a holistic approach to skincare for the best results. Here are some additional tips to help you achieve a brighter, more even complexion:

Sun Protection: One of the most important steps in preventing further skin darkening is protecting your skin from the sun. UV radiation can increase melanin production and lead to hyperpigmentation. Always wear a broad-spectrum sunscreen with an SPF of 30 or higher, and reapply it every two hours when exposed to the sun.

Healthy Diet: Your diet plays a crucial role in the health and appearance of your skin. Incorporate foods rich in antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals, such as fruits, vegetables, and nuts, to support skin health from the inside out. Staying hydrated by drinking plenty of water is also essential for maintaining a healthy complexion.

Consistency: Consistency is key when it comes to skincare. Regular use of BioProGreen Moroccan black soap, along with other skin-brightening products, will yield the best results over time. Be patient and give your skin the time it needs to adjust and improve.

Avoid Harsh Chemicals: Avoid using harsh chemical-based skin lightening products that can cause irritation, dryness, or damage to your skin. Stick to natural and organic products like BioProGreen Moroccan black soap for a gentle yet effective approach to skincare.

Professional Advice: If you have severe hyperpigmentation or other skin concerns, it's advisable to consult with a dermatologist. A skincare professional can provide personalized recommendations and treatments to address your specific needs.

Common Myths About Skin Lightening

There are many misconceptions about skin lightening, particularly regarding the use of natural products like Moroccan black soap. Here, we debunk some of the most common myths:

Myth 1: Skin Lightening is the Same as Skin Bleaching: Skin lightening and skin bleaching are not the same. Skin lightening involves reducing hyperpigmentation and achieving a more even complexion, while skin bleaching refers to using harsh chemicals to significantly lighten the skin tone. BioProGreen Moroccan black soap is a natural product that helps brighten the skin without the harmful effects of bleaching.

Myth 2: Natural Products Don't Work: Some people believe that natural products are not as effective as chemical-based ones. However, natural products like BioProGreen Moroccan black soap can be highly effective when used consistently and correctly. The key is patience and allowing time for the natural ingredients to work.

Myth 3: Exfoliating More Often Leads to Faster Results: Over-exfoliating can do more harm than good. While exfoliation is important for removing dead skin cells, doing it too frequently can irritate the skin and cause inflammation. It's essential to follow a balanced routine and give your skin time to heal between exfoliation sessions.

Myth 4: All Skin Types Respond the Same Way: Different skin types may respond differently to skincare products. What works for one person may not work for another. It's important to monitor your skin's reaction to BioProGreen Moroccan black soap and adjust your routine accordingly.

Conclusion

BioProGreen Moroccan black soap offers a natural and effective way to achieve a brighter and more even complexion. With its rich blend of organic ingredients, this soap not only exfoliates and cleanses the skin but also nourishes and protects it. By incorporating BioProGreen Moroccan black soap into your skincare routine, you can enjoy the benefits of traditional Moroccan beauty practices while working towards your goal of a radiant and luminous complexion.

Remember, achieving brighter skin is not about drastically changing your skin tone but rather about enhancing your natural beauty by addressing pigmentation issues and maintaining healthy skin. With consistent use, patience, and a holistic approach to skincare, BioProGreen Moroccan black soap can help you achieve the glowing skin you desire.

As with any skincare product,

[reviewss-blog]

Cocopulp Lightening Soap Review

Cocopulp Lightening Soap is deeply enriched with coconut oil. It makes your skin clearer and lighter by getting rid of spots and stopping them from showing up. This is because coconut oil softens and moisturizes skin. It makes your skin smooth, soft, and silky.Your skin is getting clearer, tighter, and more evenly toned every day. Light material that absorbs quickly.Deeply cleanses the skin and…

[beautyfineshopparis]

B.B CLEAR AHA Vitamin C LIGHTENING SOAP

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Car Wash

Summary: Derek drives Spencer through a carwash fundraiser.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: sorority, swimsuits, washing cars in swimsuits, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 1.1k

a/n: i think Spencer would feel so uncomfortable seeing a bunch of people in swimsuits washing his car lolol

main masterlist

The rhythmic thud of the highway under the tires accompanied the quiet hum of the car's engine as Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid made their way back from a particularly intense death row interview. The two FBI agents, having spent the past few hours delving into the mind of a convicted criminal, were both relieved to be heading home, though their minds lingered on the case's haunting details.

"Man, that was intense," Derek finally broke the silence, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he navigated through the bustling city traffic. "I'm glad that's over."

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "Yeah, I don't think I'll ever get used to that kind of interview."

Derek chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You'd think after all these years we'd have a thicker skin. But nope."

As they turned a corner, Derek noticed a sign up ahead, its bright colors catching his attention. "Hey, check that out," he said, nodding toward the sign.

“Oh, looks like we stumbled upon a fundraiser,” Derek remarked with a grin. “You’re in luck, genius. Maybe a little car wash will wash away some of that prison grime from our heads.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as they neared the scene. The sorority members were decked out in swimsuits and tank tops, holding colorful sponges and buckets of soapy water. They moved gracefully between the cars, laughing and chatting with the drivers, their enthusiasm infectious.

As Derek drove them into line, Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting from one vibrant swimsuit to the next. The vibrant scene seemed to overwhelm him. His fingers tapped nervously on his knee, and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend's obvious discomfort.

“Relax, pretty boy. It’s just a bunch of college kids raising money for a good cause. Nothing to be nervous about,” Derek teased, patting Spencer on the shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Spencer mumbled, trying to focus on anything but the exuberant display of youthful energy around them. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling out of place.

A cheerful, beautiful young woman approached the car, her hair and body glistening with droplets of water, and a welcoming smile on her face.

You leaned over, hands on the window frame, and peered inside. “Hey there! Thanks for stopping by! This is for the academic sorority – we’re fundraising for educational resources. Would you like a wash?”

Derek nodded, his smile brightening. “Absolutely. Do you have a special academic rate for FBI agents?”

You laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “Sorry, no special rates, but we promise the best car wash you’ll ever experience. Just pull forward, and we’ll take care of you.”

Spencer gave a nervous smile, unsure of where to look. The energy of the place was intoxicating, yet he felt like an outsider, his usual calm replaced with a peculiar kind of tension.

As Derek pulled the car into the washing zone, the girls and nonbinary members surrounded them, sponges in hand, and began their sudsy assault. The group worked with practiced efficiency, their movements fluid and rhythmic, creating an almost choreographed display of teamwork.

“Reid, you’re missing the show,” Derek said, nudging him playfully. “Lighten up a little. It’s just soap and water.”

Spencer tried to maintain his composure, but it was nearly impossible with the enticing spectacle unfolding outside the window. “I know, I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched through the window as a particularly enthusiastic member wielded a hose, sending a cascade of water over the windshield. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Derek chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You mean the half-naked people covered in soapy water rubbing their bodies on the car?”

“Yeah,” Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to the scene outside once again. “That.”

His gaze unintentionally kept finding you, drawn in by the way your swimsuit fit you so perfectly, and the way the bubbles seemed to cling to your skin, accentuating your every curve. The sun was relentless in its teasing, casting golden rays that danced across your shimmering body, emphasizing the soap suds glistening against your skin. Spencer's cheeks flushed with warmth, a result of both the sun and his own embarrassment.

You noticed Spencer’s stare, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you met his gaze. With a teasing wink, you took the sponge in your hand, wringing out the water so it cascaded down your chest, sending rivulets of soapy water running down your body in a mesmerizing display.

Spencer felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that would hide the obvious problem in his slacks. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re that uncomfortable, pretty boy?” Derek teased, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning as he tried to look anywhere but in your direction.

Derek laughed heartily, shaking his head. “I think she’s got her eye on you, man.”

As the car wash ended, and Spencer’s discomfort reached its peak, Derek rolled down the window to pay. But instead of approaching Derek’s side, you walked confidently to Spencer’s window, tapping on the glass.

Spencer rolled down the window, eyeing you with curiosity and suspicion. “Um, hi,” he stammered.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your smile dazzling. “Do you have a pen?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer fumbled in his satchel, retrieving a pen and handing it to you. His fingers brushed against your wet skin, and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

You took the pen, holding out your hand expectantly. Spencer hesitated for a moment before realizing what you wanted. He extended his arm, raising an eyebrow in surprise as you began writing your number on his forearm with a playful grin.

“The wash is on the house,” you said, smirking at him. “You can take me to dinner instead.” With a blown kiss and a confident stride, you walked away, leaving Spencer utterly speechless.

Spencer sat there, mouth slightly agape, as he watched you disappear into the crowd of volunteers. He glanced down at the number on his arm, then back at Derek, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Did that just happen?” Spencer asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

“Yeah, Reid,” Derek laughed, giving him a pat on the back. “That just happened.”

As Derek drove away from the car wash, Spencer couldn't help but stare at the numbers on his forearm, a giddy smile spreading across his face. This unexpected turn of events had certainly added a twist to their day, and as he contemplated the prospect of taking you to dinner, he couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest.

It was going to be an interesting evening, to say the least.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (2 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, briefly implied future physical injury, protective / possessive Soap, hand job, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You and Soap might no longer be together, but he is your "safe space", and you need to vent. While raging over the phone about your boyfriend, Soap arrives at your door.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

The anger and hurt in your voice are the only fuel John needs.

You have no idea that he is already on his way to you, that he hooked your phone call up to his helmet. That, even now, John is on his sportbike zooming down roads and weaving around cars in an effort to get to you.

There is a fire under his skin. It burns away all other concerns. Every word you speak is a blown furnace, the destruction mounting until each utterance infuriates him further. This “boyfriend” of yours, the one you started seeing after the two of you broke up, deserves a fucking sharp punch to the jaw. He deserves missing teeth and broken bones.

Men like him aren’t men at all. They’re rubbish, only valuing women as objects, seeing them as their housekeeper and not their partner.

In his ear, you’re hardly taking a breath. Your words are a stream of consciousness, each word angrily pushing into the other until it’s a jumbled mess. John listens to it all, using that as motivation to get to you. It’s doesn’t fucking matter that you’re not his anymore.

John still cares. He still loves you. The need to protect and defend you is innate. One teary-laced word was enough for him to drop everything and head in your direction. Doesn’t matter that you and he ended things a bit messy. It was simply complicated. The two of you needed to work a few things out but broke it off because that was the easy thing to do.

He regrets that. He regrets not fighting. Not getting his shit together.

The engine revs, and John turns onto your street, almost throwing himself off his bike to get to your front door. In one hand he’s holding his helmet. In the other, he’s holding his phone, the device pressed to his ear as you keep talking. Reaching out, he pounds on the door.

You immediately pause on the other side of the phone. “There’s someone at my door,” you murmur, voice slightly distant.

“I know,” he replies. “It’s me.”

Silence on the other end. But then he hears it—the familiar click of a lock. Following that is your front door opening, revealing you.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other. Your momentary shock slips, dipping into confusion.

“What are you—” you begin but promptly stop as John pushes past you and into the flat.

“Is that fucker here?” John strides into the kitchen, placing his helmet down on the counter before ending the phone call and slipping the device into his back pocket.

“John.”

He glances down the hallway and then turns to you. “Is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He’s not here.”

John’s chest heaves with relief, some of the tension receding.

“John,” you repeat, the concern in your voice enough to smother some of that fire burning beneath his ribcage.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, approaching.

His gaze roams up and down your body, searching for signs of injury. There is none, at least not that he can see. That doesn’t mean there aren’t marks somewhere hiding beneath the clothes. The very thought fans the flames, charging John’s nerves until they crackle like lightening.

“No, Johnny. I’m fine.”

Johnny.

Only two people are allowed to call him that and one of them is standing right in front of him. The use of it, the way it falls from your lips, is enough to slightly quiet the anger. He sighs, expelling some of that smoky frustration. But then his gaze flicks to a spot just over your shoulder, and a new feeling emerges.

There are fist-sized holes in the wall. Four of them. Much too large to be your hands.

“What the fuck are those?” John’s voice drops as he nods toward them.

The sadness that forms on your features nearly rips his lungs from his body. John has never seen you like this. Never this defeated.

“They happened after,” you answer.

“After what?”

“The argument.”

You and John have had your fair share of arguments, but he’s never punched a wall. He’s never thrown anything or threatened you.

Never. Fucking never.

No. Fuck this guy.

“You’re breaking up with him.”

“What?” you ask, flustered by his sudden outburst.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. To kiss your lips. To be in your presence.”

You deserve so much more than whatever this fucker is providing. Which is apparently nothing served alongside fist-sized gapping wounds in the plaster.

Your mouth opens like you’re about to reject the idea, but it’s not a suggestion. You are breaking up with him. You will leave him even if that means John doesn’t get to have you. That’s fine. That’s okay. He can live with that. What he can’t live with is knowing you’re with someone who treats you like rubbish.

He needs to get this off his chest, to make you understand that you are entitled to more.

“I listened the whole way here and you know what I heard?” He pauses and notices the slight quiver in your bottom lip. “That you’re unhappy. Have been for some time.”

You blink and fresh tears form there. John has to bite back the instinct to kiss them away. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

He licks his lips, a large sigh leaving him as he points over your shoulder. “He treats you poorly.” John’s hand slices through the air. “Walks all over you. Doesn’t answer you for hours and then gets angry with you when he finally makes contact.”

As John talks, even he can hear his voice thickening. This always happens when he gets worked up, and you’ve always playfully teased him about it.

“He’s a fucking waste of space.”

“John—”

“Break it off. And—fuck. If you can’t face him, then let me do it.” He places his hand on his chest. “Allow me to defend you.”

Your features soften and John wants to drink it in, to remember the way you’re currently looking at him. He remembers this side of you, the one that easily pierces him like a needle breaks skin. A look like this will put John on his knees if you ask him to.

“Johnny.”

He’s done. Gone. There is no coming back from this. Whenever you say his name like that, you’re either annoyed with him, wanting him to listen, or you’re just about ready to kiss him. It momentarily rips away all the thoughts in his head, leaving him temporarily mute before his brain can catch up again.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping the sides of your face. “Get rid of him. I—I know you don’t want me but fucking hell. Don’t pick him. Don’t—”

John is silenced.

Not by your words leaving your mouth but from your lips pressing to his. It startles him—shocks him that you’re kissing him. Leaning into him. John responds, kisses you back, his tongue exploding with the remembrance of your taste.

But you’re still not his. You belong to someone else still and this isn’t right, no matter how much he fucking hates it.

“Stop, love,” he murmurs, pushing on your shoulders.

John loathes telling you to stop. To move away from him. Doing so is like fish hooks caught in the skin. He wants to reel you right back in, to taste your lips again, and fall into memory.

“I ended it,” you reply softly. “It’s over. That’s why there are holes in the wall.”

John pauses, his gaze growing serious. “What?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t like that I wanted him to leave. That I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Your fingers dig into the back of John’s neck and that one touch is enough to dissolve his resolve about not kissing you into dust.

He closes the distance, and you welcome him in, opening beautifully.

“Am I your rebound?” he teasingly asks between kisses.

You laugh against his lips and kiss him again. “Why did I ever leave you?” Your question is a sad murmur tinged with a regret that leaches off your words and floods into his heart.

“Because I was an asshole.” He believes these words completely but you’re shaking your head.

“No,” you reply. “You weren’t. Never that.”

The kisses between you, which at first were soft, quickly develop into deeper passion, twining like a spool of thread around a bobbin. John drags you against him, tasting over and over until you are imprinted on his memory.

Your arms drape over the back of his neck to pull him even closer, and John snaps. That gentle resolve is gone. He needs you.

Reaching down to cup your ass, John lifts you off the ground until your legs naturally wrap around his waist. He knows where the bedroom is but that’s too fucking far. The desire writhing between and around his bones is a blood-beast. A feral thing that calls out for your skin against his.

Setting you down on the counter, John shoves his helmet out of the way. You’re already reaching for him, undoing the front of his pants, slipping in to palm him. The inhale you make when your fingers wrap around his cock is sweet and John breathes it in as if that one sound makes up his entire lifeblood.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s going to taste you everywhere. His lips and teeth will mark your skin. His tongue will find a home between your legs. You’ll forget this fuckers name. He just needs a few hours and it’ll be his name you’re screaming.

You stroke him again, and John drags you right to the edge of the counter, intending to sink to his knees to worship between your spread thighs.

Your knees lock at his hips and with another stroke of your hand, you tell him what you want. “I need you inside me. I want to feel you.”

You ask so sweetly. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to.

John helps you ease his pants down to his thighs. When he goes to undress you, he only finds underwear under that large, oversized shirt.

“Fuck, love.” John’s finger drags that fabric aside and he groans at the sight.

You’re already wet. Aching. Ready for him. Begging him to bury himself inside.

This one will be quick. It’ll be rough and he’ll probably fucking spill within a minute, but he has the whole night to take you over every surface in this flat, to make you writhe and moan beneath him.

Placing one hand on the counter and one on your thigh, John starts to ease in. Inch by inch, slowly, he disappears until there is nothing left for him to give. He has a perfect view of how you stretch around him. How you slightly clench and unclench, the pleasure of it shooting to the base of his spine.

“Don’t leave me,” you murmur as Soap begins to thrust into you.

“Never,” he replies, nuzzling the side of your face as you pepper him with kisses.

John anchors himself, snapping his hips, chasing the end just so he can get you back into that bedroom to do so much more.

“You’re mine,” he groans as your fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer. “Always have been.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @keiva1000 @miss-mistinguett @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg

[sscplherbals-blog]

Best Ayurvedic Fairness Soap Online | SSCPL Lazure Soap

Lazure Fairness Facial Soap with Saffron Turmeric Calendula Mulberry for Skin Whitening, Lightening, Glow, and Fairness. Herbal Ayurvedic Ingredients. No side effects, No pigmentation, Safe and Ayurvedic | Order Now | Free shipping over Rs. 500/- | www.sscplherbals.com

[gencbeauty]

Enhance Your Glow - Discovering the Benefits of Kojie San Soap

Kojie San skin lightening soap features Kojic Acid, renowned for its skin-brightening properties. It effectively targets dark spots and uneven skin tone, promoting a clearer complexion and enhancing skin radiance with regular use. Buy it now from gencbeauty.com

[gaysindistress]

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Based on this ask that the lovely @navybrat817 got and jajfjejjdbd now I’ve got it bad for this man 🥺 he needs just as much love as our sweet Bucky 💕

He wants to be good for you.

He wants to be a good man for you.

He wants to be the man that you deserve.

That starts with leaving ‘Ghost’ on base. The one moment he can, he’s stripping off every layer of ‘Ghost’ and washing his sins away in the shower, scrubbing at the stains they leave. It burns his skin and leaves it red and irritated but he only stops when he’s clean and smells like the regulation soap. You hate it when he comes home not smelling like himself but he can put up with your pout if it means he comes home a good, honest man.

Only Price knows about you and the humble abode that you two share.

Only Price knows that you have two rambunctious dogs that drive you up the walls when Si isn’t home.

Only Price knows that you worry constantly about your Si when he’s working but refuse to text or call until he does.

“I don’t want to distract him,” you mumbled drunkenly against Price’s shoulder the last time they were home. “I know he’s your Ghost or whatever but he’s my Si and I…I couldn’t live with myself if my call distracted him.”

“Tell ya what lass,” Price muttered back into your hair as he watched Simon play with your dogs in the backyard, “I’ll call you when he’s safe and sound.”

“Oh John, that’s too much to ask…”

Price cuts you off, “honestly it’s not for you. He gets fussy when he doesn’t come back to a text from you. Won’t stop his whining until he hears your voice.”

You press a chaste kiss to his gruff cheek and settle back into his side with a smile when Simon stomps in, complaining about your “dickhead” dogs.

His love for you suffocates him some days.

His love for you consumes him some days.

His love for you fuels him to push through and come home every day.

There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you and he does what he can to show you that. His childhood was rough. That’s a given. His adult life hasn’t been much better and he struggles. He doesn’t know how to express his emotions outside of legendary side eyes and sarcastic remarks but he tries for you.

“If anything happened to you, i would burn the world to get you back,” he tells you one late night as you lay together in bed. He was gone for close to a month and the first thing he did when he walked through your door was scoop you up and head for the bedroom. Silently he stripped the both of you, climbed into bed, and drug you into his chest. With his thick arms wrapped around you and equally strong legs entangled with yours, he nestled into your hair and breathed in every molecule of your being. He missed you but his love for you had felt like it was drowning him and he needed you to feel just how much it choked him

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t mean that,” you say back although it’s muffled against his collarbone.

“Afterwards I’d bury myself beside you if it meant I could be close to you for eternity.”

The air in your lungs thinned and you damn near gasped at the closest thing to a love confession you’d ever gotten from him.

Trying to lighten the tension of it all, you’d joke about how that could even be possible if he burned the world. To which he replied with “I will find a way or I will make one.”

“Simon,” the syllables of his name are drawn out as you plead with him to do something. He smirks into the skin of your neck as he trails wet kisses down it.

“Yes, little one?”

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 09 - Shower Sex]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Namjoon x sub f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Idol!Namjoon

Kinks: clothed sex (he doesn’t bother to undress before he joins her), he wears a suit, cunnilingus, body worship, praise, good girl kink, vaginal fingering, slight strength & muscle kink, blowjob, edging (m.receiving), vaginal penetrative sex, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampie, mentions of having dirty fantasies all day, he is so obsessed with her, cuddly & loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: at some point, all i could picture was Nanami in the hair pulling scene like this is how i pictured Joon to look in his wet shirt jdjfaj make with this information what you want. i also notice a pattern with my Joon girlies, you guys really wanna see him in a shower jdfsjf

Namjoon had a long day at the office. He had interviews to hold, had lyrics to write and meetings to attend. It was an exhausting, tiring day, but that all starts to lessen the moment the apartment door falls in its lock behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out and begins taking off his outside clothes.

You don’t come running to greet him, which wasn’t such a surprising thing to happen, but this evening he is sad about it. It would have cheered him up a lot to be greeted by you. But alas, he has to wander through the house in search for you. Your hobby room is already cleaned up for the day and you laid out a few restaurant menus for dinner. Namjoon flips through the options, deciding on a jjajangmyeon place in the end. He leaves his bag by the dining table and calls out for you again.

You don’t answer him, but he is starting to get a gist of where you are. His latest album is playing from the direction of the bathroom. Namjoon smiles as he makes his way to you. You like to deny it but Namjoon always calls you his biggest fan. There are too many occasions where he comes home to you listening to his music and it always does something to him. Tonight it makes him crave every breath you take and every syllable you could ever mutter.

He knocks.

“Joon, is that you?” you call out and turn the music down.

“Yes, it’s me baby”, Namjoon confirms, “I know you’re showering right now, but can I come in?”

“It’s open.”

Namjoon slips into the bathroom, letting the door fall closed. You turned off the water for now, spreading soap on your skin. The air smells floral and good. Namjoon inhales deeply, feeling his chest lighten. This is your scent.

“Hey there baby, how was your day?” you ask him.

“I’m just glad that it’s over. I had to deal with too many fucking idiots.”

“I’m sorry to hear this. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, “just keep showering, I’m okay just looking at you.”

You chuckle, “okay, if you say so”, you say and turn your back to him so you could wash off the soap. You do so with the rain shower, using the opportunity to wet your hair as well. Your eyes are closed for it so you have no idea what Namjoon is doing until you suddenly feel two hands on your waist.

You smile, turning with your hands instantly seeking his chest.

“Huh?” You open your eyes. No Namjoon in front of you. “Baby?”

“Down here.”

You look down. Namjoon is kneeling in front of you, still dressed in his office suit which is now getting wet. He also didn’t bother to take off his glasses, looking up at you past their foggy, watery lenses. His clothes are already sticking to his sculpted body, especially around his chest and arms the fabric is stretching.

“What are you doing? You’re getting your clothes wet”, you gasp and try to turn the water off.

“I’m already wet, just let me have a taste, baby. Please”, he begs.

“Do you mean that?” your heart is racing.

“Yes, please. All I thought of today was you. You kept me sane as much as you drove me crazy. I want you so much I can barely breathe.”

“Holy fuck, Joon”, you get out. You reach out to at least take off his glasses, placing them on the soap stand for now. Then you nod your head.

“Thank you. Baby, holy fuck”, he moans and pulls you closer. He connects his puffy lips with your lower stomach, kissing every inch of it while his masculine hands are running along your back.

You are terribly sensitive on your stomach so having him kiss you with such devotion is making your skin feel electric. You sigh his name, gasping each time he sucks on your skin gently.

“You smell so good. I’m addicted to you, baby”, he purrs in this terribly deep and seductive voice of his’. He dances his nose over your skin until his lips are on your hip bone. You are especially tender there and Namjoon worships it with eager kisses and languid licks.

“Joon, this”, you get out, following it with a quiet moan. If he wasn’t holding you in his strong arms like this, you would already crumble.

Namjoon purrs and kisses a way to your other side to repeat what he did. He wants you to feel worshipped everywhere, not one ounce of your perfect body should feel left out. The thought of holding you, touching you, was everything that kept him going today. He spoke of new music and answered the tiring questions of the uncreative interviewers with utter professionalism, but in his mind he was undressing you and making you arch your back. He listened to the egotistical, greedy ideas of the company and tried to redirect them in the most respectful of ways, but in his mind he was burying his fingers in your warm walls and making you scream his name. You were the very thing that kept him going today, so he truly wants to savour you now that he finally truly has you.

He lifts his lips from your well-loved skin, making himself taller by lifting his butt from his feet. His tender hands dance up your back as he goes, his eyes never leave your face. Once he truly straightened up, he reaches you just under your breasts, resting his chin against the spot.

“My motherfucking muse”, he says, voice vibrating in his chest.

You smile, although drunkenly, and run your fingers through his wet hair. It sticks to his face so prettily, glides through your fingers like it was made to be touched by you. Namjoon closes his eyes and smiles, body tingling from the touch.

“Yeah, you seriously are”, he decides in a raspy whisper, moving his head to kiss your upper stomach. He slides his hands to your sides, guiding them down as he kisses a trail to your heat.

“Joon, oh god”, you croak, chasing his lips needily. You really want him to use his mouth on your aching pussy. You can’t take much more.

“What do you need, my baby?” he asks, voice tickling your skin.

“Your mouth, please.”

“Mhhm, you’re so sweet when you beg for me”, he lulls, fulfilling your wish gladly. He tilts his head back and connects his mouth with your heaven. He parts you with the help of his tongue by flicking it through your folds slowly and with thought behind his movements. The way you sigh his name and grip his hair is so fucking addicting. The way you close your eyes and tilt your head back will always be his most favourite view.

When you are like this, he wants to make you feel so good. He exists just for your pleasure, feeding on your every reaction.

He connects his fingers with your pussy, massaging your entrance while his tongue circles your clit.

“Yes, please”, you beg, hips stuttering in anticipation.

Namjoon pushes into you, moaning with you as he fills you out. So warm and soft. The real sensations will always be so much better than any fantasy ever could. Namjoon closes his eyes, purring your name as his tongue makes sweet love to your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of you carefully, helping you get used to having him with you again.

“Joon, please don’t stop”, you croak, dropping your back against the shower wall just so you can arch it. You lift your right leg and put it over his shoulder, keeping him closer like this. You open up so much better for him and Namjoon takes it eagerly. He growls into you, lips and tongue working together to devour your sweet clit while his fingers curl inside you in search for your favourite spot. He knows your body blindly, so it only takes him a moment before he has you arching your back again as you moan his name, walls throbbing round his long digits.

“There, Joon”, you whimper, twisting his hair.

Namjoon growls into you, curling his fingers right where you need it most. Your clit is throbbing under his tongue, growing in size. He swears that he feels high. You are so sweet and so hot.

He drops his other hand from your waist and begins rubbing himself over his soaked slacks. His cock is so hard and swollen, twitching into his palm as he tries to make it easier to bear. His mind is running wild with fantasies of you. He is taking you against the wall, bending you over and taking you from behind, carrying you as the water soaks you and it’s driving him insane. His mind is his own worst enemy and he only realises that he began taking out his frustrations on you when you wail up with shaking knees.

“This is making me cum! Joon! Please!”

Namjoon comes back to reality. His fingers picked up speed, making angry love to your cunt and his mouth is making out with your clit sloppily. He became a little rough with you, bringing you close like this.

Namjoon growls because that is all he can do and keeps the rhythm going, rubbing himself faster as well. He peels his eyes open, keeping you pinned in a dark, hungry look.

“Namjoon! Ah!” you moan and arch off the wall, grabbing his head with both hands and closing your leg around him tighter as you break on his fingers.

Namjoon helps you through it with a dizzy head and his cock throbbing in his slacks. By the way you shake and scream, it is one of the more intense ones. He loves them because of how fucking honest they are. Not that you ever have to fake your orgasms with him. Namjoon plays your body as well as he plays his fucking music, he pays attention to you as well as he does to the words he writes. You are his most beloved artwork and the one he takes care of the very best. Orgasms with him are never fake, but damn, sometimes they’re just so intense you swear you pass out for a second.

This right now is one of those orgasms and as it dies down you have to tug him off of you because you were just too sensitive.

“Break please, too much”, you beg.

“Mhm good girl”, he lulls, redirecting his lips to kissing your inner thigh and his fingers to hold your leg.

“You are so mean. Why did you make me cum like this?” you whine, panting heavily.

Namjoon lets out one of his deep chuckles, smirking against your skin, “because your pleasure is important to me. You know that it is.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day”, you say and chuckle breathily, “fuck.”

“Mhm, yeah”, he purrs and sets down your leg carefully. He begins standing up, kissing a path up your body as he does until he is face to face with you. He cradles your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss. Just by the way his lips move against yours and how he can’t seem to stay quiet, you know that he is still hungry for more.

You break the kiss, giggling when he chases you needily.

“Do you want more?”

“Can you take more?”

“What a question, Joonie”, you say, playing with his hair.

“Fuck baby”, he sighs, dropping his forehead against yours, “I want you like I want coffee in the morning.”

“Mhm, my poet”, you purr playfully and drop to your knees.

“What are you doing?” he gasps, knees buckling as he watches you open his slacks. You tug them over his butt together with his briefs. His cock jumps free, slapping his stomach and making him moan in relief. The volume of his sounds grows as you sink him into your mouth a second later.

“Wait woah”, he yelps, gripping your head with both hands, “wait, wait, wait. Stop.”

You let him pull you off, allowing your drool to drip out of you.

“Don’t do that”, he hisses.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m too sensitive.”

You giggle, melting his heart with the sound of it, “and? Just try not to cum too soon”, you say and take him back inside. You make puppy eyes up at him, moaning around his cock and bopping your head back and forth.

Namjoon scrunches his face, wobbling so much that he ends up having to seek support on the wall. His arm tenses, stretching the fabric of his shirt. His wet hair hangs into his face like this, the water trickles down his big body. You mewl because of the view, sliding your hand to his balls to play with them as you fuck his cock with your throat. When you are like this with him, you have no gag reflex, no desire to breathe. Everything you exist for and need is his cock deep in your throat. 

“Fuck baby, you’re too much”, Namjoon lulls, deep voice even deeper. He pets your head gently, scrunching his nose and following it with an angry, “fuck.”

You mewl, sliding off of him enough that you can circling your tongue around him as you suck him greedily. The combination of your wet tongue and the intense sucking, makes his knees buckle.

“Shit baby”, he curses, dropping his other hand on the tiles as well. He falls to his elbows, head hanging between his arms and lips parted as the deepest moans roll of his tongue. He can’t even look at you anymore, eyes squeezed shut and brows tightened.

He turns you on so much. You massage his balls needily, sinking more of him back into your willing mouth. You have so much drool inside you that his girth fucks it out of you, forcing it to drip down your chin. You don’t mind the mess when it means making Namjoon moan like this.

“Baby, you’re too much”, he purrs, hips twitching each time you bottom out. It feels so good. All he fantasised about today was you and how it would be to pleasure you. His own body fell short in his fantasies, so to have you suck his cock like this, overwhelms him in the best way possible. You are so warm, so soft and so fucking sloppy. He could cum in your mouth, he knows you would like that. He would just have to let go, to give in, to give up control over his body. He could do it. Right now. Just do it.

“No baby, don’t”, he stops you, pulling you off his aching cock.

“Why?” you mewl, pouting at him. Your lips are puffy from use, your nose is a little snotty.

“I can’t cum in your mouth.”

“Yes, you can. Please”, you say and stick out your tongue.

“No, baby”, he denies you, cradling your cheek, “stand up.”

You obey his order, letting him pull you to your feet just by holding your cheek. He presses you against the wall, keeping one arm around you. Like this, you rest on it while he finds support by leaning his elbow against the wall.

“Put your leg around me.”

You obey.

“That’s it. Keep looking at me.”

“Joon”, you whimper, having to writhe as his cock breaches your dripping cunt.

“Keep looking at me, baby. Keep fucking looking at me.”

“Joon oh god.”

“Hurts?”

“No, just…gonna cum on your cock again. Feels so good.”

“Mhm, it does. Baby, your pussy is where I fucking belong”, he purrs and bottoms out. He picks up a passionate, deep rhythm instantly, tasting your moans and feeling you shake, “that’s where I’m supposed to pump my fucking load. Deep inside you, claiming you, making you mine. Fuck baby, all I thought of today was fucking you deep and slow.”

“Joon”, you whimper, hands unable to decide whether you want to clutch his broad shoulders or twist his hair.

“Keep moaning my name like this, good girl. What a fucking good girl you are”, he purrs, making hot love to you with his eyes just as much as he does with his perfect cock. The way he has you angled and how he pulls you closer with each thrust, allows his tip to fuck against your g-spot each time he bottoms out. Your clit rubs against his stomach like this and sometimes when you arch your back, your nipples rub against his clothed chest. If there is one word to describe how he makes you feel it would be enchanted because every single fiber of you exists for him and his magic touch.

“I’m yours”, you croak, fingers finally gripping his hair to twist it. You cannot take it any other way.

“You are, baby. Mine. All mine to fuck and fantasise about and fucking love. Mine. My woman”, he rasps, fucking into you in deep, long strokes with each word. It shakes you, ruins you to the very core. You thought that his mouth and fingers are your damnation but you were wrong. This is it. Sensitive from you first orgasm, riled up from sucking his cock and now cradled against his strong body as he pumps his cock into you, you find your second orgasm of the evening.

You sob into him, clutching him for dear life while he holds you safely. His hips never slow down, helping you reach highs you never thought able to reach.

“Good girl, cum on my cock. My good girl, scream my name like this, yes that’s it”, he talks you through it because he always does. If his mouth wasn’t preoccupied with making you cum, he always makes sure to make you cum with it another way. There isn’t one orgasm with him where he doesn’t talk you through your shakes and whimpers.

Tonight it makes you tense up so vigorously that Namjoon finds no strength to go on.

“Can I cum inside?” he gets out.

“Yes, please”, you whimper, hugging him tighter.

“___”, he moans and breaks, finally reaching the kind of heaven he craved for all day. He pumps into you in sloppy, quick ruts, growling into your neck and holding you against him as tightly as possible. This is everything he wanted and more and once he finally comes down, he feels shaken to the core.

He holds you, kissing whatever part of your body he can reach.

“Baby, my baby, oh my baby. I love you, I fucking missed you, oh baby. How are you? Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I love you”, he babbles, carrying his heart on his palms.

“I love you too, baby. I feel so good and you didn’t hurt me”, you say.

“But you’re shaking, baby was I too rough?”

“No, just shaking because it was intense. And ‘cause I’m a little cold.”

“You are? Oh baby, I’m sorry. Let’s dry up and cuddle on the couch, yeah?”

“Mhm yeah”, you move your head so you can look into his eyes. You smile, wiping his hair out of his face.

He leans into the touch, feeling star struck. He is so happy to be yours.

“I can’t believe you horndog didn’t even bother to undress.”

“I was so horny, you have no idea.”

You giggle, “you’re cute.”

He smiles, “what do you think of Jjajangmyeon? I saw the menus outside.”

“Sounds amazing. They taste especially well after shower creampies.”

“Shut up”, he says, suddenly feeling shy.

“Never”, you tease, chuckling fondly as you pull him into an adoring kiss.

[bandgie]

Bath Time

bf!Changbin x gn!reader

MDNI 18+, handjob, elements of sub!bin, nipple/boob play (m!), fluff, this is totally self indulgent!

1k words

With Changbin's back to you, it's easy to wash and rinse the soap from his head. Your senses are filled with the feeling of warm water on your hands and the smell of scented soap. You told him that you wanted to give him a spa day, something to help relax your busy boyfriend from his idol life. 

Your boyfriend's skin is soft under your touch and your hands travel down to his shoulders where you dig your fingers in. Changbin whines from the massage at first, a protest from his stiff muscles. You lighten your touch and add pressure to the area between his shoulder blades. It's from his continued hard work that he was able to grow such broad muscles. Your hands feel so small against it, and you doubt you're making any real difference in his stress. 

That's proven wrong from Changbin's groans though. He gently rocks in the tub from your ministrations, the water sloshing quietly. A particular loud sound from him has you laughing, "Does it feel good Bin?"

Maybe it's the heat of the bath, or the overwhelming smell of lavender, but Changbin shivers at your words. It was so innocently said, but he can feel the way his lower half twitched, pulsated. Everything you do feels good to him, and you saying it only adds to the pleasure.

"Y-yes," he stutters. 

You hum in response, but the vibrations in your chest echo in his mind. Changbin tries to think of every disgusting thing he can to prevent himself from getting hard, but it's nearly impossible. All he can focus on is your delicate fingers, the fact that he's completely nude and wet, how the front of your shirt is drenched to the point that he can see the outline of your chest. When your hands move to the front of his shoulders, he knows he's screwed. 

You lean over Changbin to properly massage the top of his pecs, but a mere glance at the water has you halt. Even though his figure is deformed underneath, you can still make out the standing of his cock.

There's a small scoff of disbelief that leaves you and when you turn to Changbin, he's already a pretty shade of pink. 

"Looks like someone's happy to see me," you muse. One of your hands runs against the softness of his stomach underwater, stopping just above his pelvis. "I thought you were being a little too quiet."

Your other hand gropes his pec, squeezing the flesh rather than massaging it. Changbin whines at the pressure, hips thrusting upwards. "I didn't mean to!" There's a small frown on his face, but his eyes are wide with desire. "How can you expect me to not when you're touching me like that!?"

His complaining only stirs you more, pinching his hardened nipple between your fingers. You pull and tug on his bud, watching how his back arches. Your other hand goes back up to grope both of his pecs. You squeeze them in your palms, kneading the flesh. 

"What about Jut and Dae hm?" You jiggle them for emphasis. "Are they happy to see me?"

There's red marks from your fingers on his chest, but the look on Changbin's face is far from painful. He nods eagerly, licking his lower lip. "They are! They're always happy to see you."

He can feel how your chest purrs in satisfaction. Changbin nearly squeals in excitement when your hand finally goes down to his cock, gently gripping the base. You play with him between your fingers, running the tip over your thumb before going further to play with his balls. 

"Such a nasty boy," you tut playfully. "Gonna makes the water all dirty."

As if in punishment, you squeeze his balls in your gasp. A gasp leaves Changbin's lips when you move your hand to drag the skin of his cock down to expose his throbbing head. You twist your hand as you move upwards with slow jerking movements. Your other hand never ceases from gripping his chest. 

The water begins to move rather rapidly from Changbin's movements. He's humping into your hands eagerly. One hand planted at the bottom of the tub for balance while the other grips your wrist playing with his nipple. He turns to look at you, lips pouty and shiny form how much he's been licking them.

You know what he wants and you want to deny him from it. A kiss is what makes your boyfriend cum the hardest. You would love to deprive him from it just a bit longer, but the whole reason for you doing this is to make him feel good. In any way possible. 

It's with tenderness that you kiss Changbin with. He melts at the feel of your lips, moaning into your mouth. Your hand rapidly moves underneath the water, stroking him with quick, tight pulls. He gives up on using his lips and shoves his tongue in your mouth. Both of your salvias mix, and you find yourself giggling. 

"Impatient," you mumble in the kiss. Changbin only whines in response, upset that you're talking instead of kissing him. You let your lover ravish your mouth, teeth clashing from his neediness. 

He squeezes your wrist hard suddenly, mouth going slack and eyes crossing. "Cumming! Don't stop, please."

You squeeze the softness of his chest harshly and the tip of his cock. Changbin makes a choked sound, but muffles it with a messy kiss. He jerks his hips upwards to meet your strokes, and even in the water you can feel his cock twitch when he releases. 

A part of you is disappointed that you can't feel his cum run down your fingers, that you can't smear it on his belly before shoving your fingers in his mouth. Instead, you watch the strings of arousal float to the top before diluting into the water. 

Changbin pants in your mouth, convulsing in the aftershocks of his orgasm. You coo at him and give consecutive pecks to his swollen lips. He puckers his lips to properly feel your kisses, but you can see the drowsiness in his eyes quickly catch up to him.

"Oh Binnie. Don't fall asleep yet! We need to take another shower, you got this one dirty."

a/n: I thought about doing this with Chan at first, but binnie's boobies were infiltrating my mind border from @roseschoices!

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @twinkleinadiamondsky

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords

[thegnomelord]

#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.

Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Washing their hair

CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.

As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.

By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.

"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.

"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."

He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.

"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.

"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.

He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.

"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.

"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."

"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.

Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.

The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.

"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.

You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.

Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.

"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.

"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.

His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.

"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.

His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.

Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.

You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.

"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.

"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.

You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.

Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.

"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.

"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.

Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.

You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.

But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.