#While it seems like signatures have slowed down a bit

[saltpepperbeard]

WE'RE OVER 50,000 NOW LET'S GOOOOOOOOO

[nymphomatique]

nerdy, loser miguel so pussy starved and hungry, eating you out with his whole soul, but you just keep degrading him, one hand yanking at his hair and shoving him back down every time he breaches for air and hissing at him because “come on, nerd, you’re the one that begged me for a taste. now do it right or get the fuck out.”

im so normal about this your au is feeding me 🫶🏻

totally not going insane over this ask btw ❤️

cw: munch!miguel makes his return, cunnilingus, fem orgasm, praise, hair pulling, nerd miguel EATS, slight d/s dynamics, one singular slap in the face (sorry)

i can’t like omg imagine his glasses on his head while he’s trying his best to please u :( but you’re his first so he doesn’t know what to do so he tries to lick like he’s seen in the porn videos (which he won’t admit) he watches.

and you’re sooo frustrated because what kind of man doesn’t know where the clit is?? even though miguel means while you won’t stand for it as long as he’s your property!

“been beggin’ to eat my pussy and you’re just waffling down there. pissing me off,” you huff. you grab his head by a handful of his hair and pull him to where his mouth is directly above your clit. “see that? can’t even call you four eyes with your glasses on your head n’all. make sure your mouth stays there. got it?” miguel nods feverishly and looks down expectantly. “you can start again.” you allow him and this time it feels different.

a good different.

you can’t help but you let out a gasp as the expanse of miguel’s tongue licks and sucks on your clit passionately. “f-fuck, you’re doing so good for your mistress right now. keep going.” you breath out, gripping his hair even tighter and pulling him into your sopping wetness.

“taste so good, mmhp,” he moans into you, his hands moving from their place under him to grip at the expanse of your thighs rather tightly. he licks up and down and even sticks his tongue into you, which makes you squeal and close your legs around his head. wordlessly he pushes them apart and pins them down, lifting your pelvis in the process, a small oh! leaving your mouth at his display of strength.

miguel looks at you with a dazed expression on his face before he goes back to licking into your cunt, his nose bumping into your clit as he explores you with his tongue. you can’t control your moans anymore, letting out babbles of “fuuuckkk right there, oh my god miguel- so fucking good for me,” amongst other praises.

“g-gonna come, slow down a bit,” you exhale weakly, feeling the pleasure begin to burn and overwhelm you. but he doesn’t stop, he keeps going as if he’s in a trance, your pulling and pushing at his hair leaving no impression on him.

“oh- oh my god i’m cumming!” you moan out, your whole lower body convulsing. miguel seems to have snapped out of whatever trace he was in and you meet his brown eyes that seem shy once again. his lips are covered in your cum, his cheeks flushed, his skin glowing with the slight sheen of sweat, his hair perfectly tousled thanks to you with his signature black frames sitting atop his head. he has the audacity to ask “d-did i do good?”

you smack him in his face for asking such a stupid fucking question.

you pretend you don’t see his boner after that.

can u tell i got carried away after the first two sentences cus LMAO

[alastor-simp]

Sickly Deer - Sick Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary - Alastor is a very proud man, and he will almost never admit that something is wrong. However, you noticed he seemed a bit off today and wanted to know what was wrong?

❥Tags: Sick alastor, sick day, alastor becomes sick, female reader, reader takes care of a sick alastor, stubborn alastor, fluff , adorable fluff, taking care of someone sick

❥Notes: Always wanted to do a sick character story and I finally get to do one with Alastor.

Was a quiet day in the hotel today. Usually there was the occasional chaos, but surprisingly it was peaceful. Charlie and Vaggie were out shopping for groceries for the hotel. Angel was lounging in his room, relaxing with Fat Nuggets. Niffty was reading a book, most likely manga in the lounge room, with Husk taking a cat nap on the couch next to her. Sir Pentious was in his ship, crafting some devices with his egg bois.

You were lounging in the hotel library, enjoying some quiet time to yourself while reading. Well it was quiet for a second until you heard the sound of static-like cough coming from next to you. Alastor happened to be in the library as well, reading his weekly newspaper. He's usually very quiet when he reads, except with the occasional sound of humming or static. But this was new, as you almost never heard him cough or let alone sneeze for that matter. The coughing started slow, but then it kept getting rougher as he kept doing it, causing you to worry. "Hey Al?" Your eyes were gazing at him with concern. Alastor turned his head towards you, wearing his signature smile: “Yes? What is it my dear?” “Well, are you alright? I noticed you have been coughing a lot. Once you said that, Alastor let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh-ho! It is nothing my dear. Just a small tickle. Nothing to concern yourself with!” He waved his hand in the air, after he finished talking. You still felt unsure, but if he said it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t question him.

How wrong you were, the more and more you saw Al throughout the day, the worse his cough got. Not only that, his face was slightly paler and a bit drenched with sweat. He still was acting like everything was alright, but you knew he was lying. Enough was enough. You caught up with Alastor, as he was walking down the hallway. “Alastor! Stop!” You yelled his name out. He stopped in front of you, and slowly turned around, head tilted in confusion. “You’re sick, aren’t you” Alastors face stayed neutral when you said that, but you knew you got him. “I told you already, my dear. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Alastor just smiled wider and turned away from you to continue walking. He was stopped again when he felt a hand grab one of his coat sleeves. His body grew tense and he turned back eerily, not appreciating you touching him. You gave him a strong look: “Well, I AM concerned. And you should be resting cause you’re only going to make it worse.” His garnet colored eyes locked on to yours, static in the air getting louder. “I am the radio demon, my dear. I do not get sick, so please remove your hand, n̸͚͇̏̉o̸̼̓ẇ̷̹̓.” His eyes flashed into radio dials for a split second, causing you to remove your hand from his sleeve quickly. “Thank you. Now then, I shall take my leave.” He turned back around and began to walk away from you. As you were watching him walk away, you noticed he drew to a stop again. His body was still up, but then he began to fall forward. “AL!”

**Alastor POV**

“Ugh….huh?” Alastors eyes opened slowly. He recognized he was in his hotel room as the ceiling was covered in grassy moss and leaves, as he was the one to change it due to his magic. He soon realized he was laying on his bed, wearing his pajamas as he slowly got up from lying down. He doesn’t recall heading back to his room, as his head was still a bit fuzzy. His head was throbbing and his throat was feeling sore. Alastor knew he was feeling sickly, but he refused to believe it. He hates to be perceived as weak, so he preferred to play it off that he was fine.

The sound of the door opening alerted him, causing him to look up. He sees you walking into his room, carrying a tray along with a plastic bag hanging from your arms. “Oh your awake? How are you feeling?” You bear a smile at him, as you walk closer to his bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. “How did I end up here?” Alastor questioned you, still confused at what happened. “You don’t remember?” Your eyes gazed at him back with concern. Alastor shook his head. “You fainted Al. I stopped you in the hallway cause I knew you were sick, but you said you were fine and as you walked away, you stopped and fell forward.” Al’s eyes widen at your statement, as he kept listening to you talk. “I carried you back to your room after that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I see. I’m sorry for the trouble you had to go through my dear, but I’m quite alright now.” Pulling the covers off, Al swung his feet to place them in the floor. He was stopped by a hand on his chest. “Oh no you don’t mister. You are staying in bed and getting better. Understand?” Your eyes were filled with determination. “My dear, I am qui-” “Understand?” His words were cut off by you. He continued to look at your face, seeing that you were refusing to budge. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his head. He positioned himself back to how he was on the bed. “Does anyone else know about my ailment?" He said, as you turned his head to look at you. You were removing some stuff out of the plastic bag and set them on the night stand before turning back to him. "The only ones who know are me and Niffty. No one else, I promise you. I had to tell her you were under the weather, and she told me to head to the store to get you some medicine while she made you some venison stew." Alastor continued to listen until he asked you another question: "Did you change me into my pajamas as well?" Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head no. "Your shadow happened to appear when I brought you to the bed. I told it to change you." Alastor just nodded his head at that, smiling at bit wider at your adorable reaction.

Grabbing one of the chairs from Al's desk, you brought it over to where his bed was and took a seat. Reaching for the bowl, you placed it on your lap. He observed you blow a bit on the spoon and hold it out to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. "Come on Al. There's nothing wrong with me feeding you." Alastor sighed, and opened his mouth, allowing you to give him some of the stew that Niffty prepared. He was able to finish it all off, which pleased you. Placing the bowl back, you grabbed the medicine and a glass of water and handed it to him. Alastor grabbed it and quickly popped them in his mouth, chugging the water to get them down. Sighing, he laid back on the bed, placing his head on the pillow, turning it away from you. "I despise this feeling." He whispered that to himself, but you were able to pick up on it since you were still seated next to him. "What feeling?" you said back to him, tiling your head. "Alastor continued to look away. "The feeling of being sick. Makes me appear weak." Alastor grumbled out the response.

Alastor remained quiet after that. A hand was placed against his cheek, allowing his head to turn back towards you. His eyes widen at you, as he saw you wearing a kind smile. "You're not weak Alastor. Everyone gets sick from time to time, nothing wrong with it. Also, you should know the others would never think about that, they would rather you get some rest and get better." Your thumb stroked his cheek. Alastor listened to what you said and gave a sigh, closing his eyes. "I know, my dear. Just.....feels strange." Moving his hand, he placed it against the one on his cheek. "Thank you, my dear. If there comes a time where you are ailing, I will return the favor." His lips curved into a soft smile. He heard you chuckle, as your hand moved away from his cheek. "Get some rest, Al. I'll come back to check on you." Smiling, you got up from the chair, and grabbed the tray, heading over to the door. Alastor just watched you walk away, leaving his room, and closing the door. His eyes began to grow heavy, as his body started to relax, drifting into a deep sleep.

TAG LIST:

Tag List:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 , @mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow , @madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel , @ainsliemac , @sweet06tart , @nobuharashinyao , @aria-tempest , @fluffismystaplefood , @darischerry , @nightmarenaya , @mooniee123 , @yakultt-art , @ktssstuff , @blakedbeanss , @sweet06tart , @ihyperfixatedagain , @alastorssimp , @sadnessiscoldtea , @artemisandhunters , @crystalreads , @thereeallink

[moonstruckme]

Hellooo!!! I have a Spencer Reid request, but feel free to ignore it if you're not up for it hahaha! I was thinking about BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc! I think it could be so so cute, especially if they don't realize they're doing it and the team noticing it for them? Thank you so much, I love everything that you write 🤍

Thanks gorgeous!

cw: discussion of tongue preservation methods? sorry in advance

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 560 words

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriend as he goes into detail about how to preserve severed tongues. 

“So the fact that this unsub is purchasing equipment actually shows a lack of medical expertise, since he seems to be going overboard with preservation measures.” Spencer’s nodding as he talks, a tiny scrunch between his brows. “It’s pretty silly actually. It’s probably only a matter of time until he figures out he just needs to keep them on ice.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Morgan chuckles quietly. 

Spencer blinks, eyes refocusing as he comes out of his brain and back into the conference room. “What?”

“Did you just say the unsub was silly?” Prentiss asks, and his eyebrows refurrow. 

“Did I?” 

“Let’s stay on task.” Hotch is all business. “If he were as inexperienced as that would suggest, he probably wouldn’t make clean cuts. This skill level indicates some level of expertise.” 

“Well, actually, I’m not sure it would necessarily be medical expertise,” you say, cringing at your own knowledge. “The process he’s using doesn’t sound dissimilar to how I think they preserve cow tongues. Maybe he’s preparing them to eat.” 

You’re doing your best not to squirm, and Spencer can likely tell, placing a slender hand on your leg under the table. “That’s a good point,” he says, “he could have experience as a chef or in the meatpacking business.” 

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but how many chefs know how to preserve tongues?” 

“Maybe we could start by looking into restaurants that serve those kinds of delicacies,” JJ suggests. 

“Good.” Hotch closes his binder, standing. “Garcia, you get started on that and we’ll touch base with you from Atlanta. Wheels up in two hours.” 

“Yes sir.” Garcia looks a bit green—you sympathize—as she hurries out of the conference room. 

Morgan’s giving you one of his knowing looks, collecting his things extra slow, until finally you sigh. “What?” 

“Well, actually,” he mimics, lips curving into a grin. “You and pretty boy must be getting serious if you’re taking on his signature phrase.” 

You roll your eyes, but Spencer smiles, looping his crossbody bag over his head. “Actually, language style matching is only one form of mirroring. If you’re paying attention, people who spend a lot of time together can mirror each other down to their breathing rhythms or how many times they blink within a minute.” 

You look at him interestedly. “So what does that mean? Just that we’re spending too much time together?” 

The look Spencer gives you threatens to liquefy you with its softness. “There’s never too much time.” 

Morgan’s laughter is hooting, and you want to find that as cheesy as he does, you really do, but the place within yourself where you usually reach for sarcasm has gone mushy and useless. You rearrange some things in your bag unnecessarily, head down to hide your blush.

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

This would normally be your opportunity to think of a retort, but luckily you don’t have to. JJ pops back into the room, looking frowny. 

“We just got a call from Atlanta. The unsub killed again overnight.” 

Spencer grows serious. “He’s accelerating?” 

“Yup.” She nods. “Hotch wants us there now, so it’s wheels up in twenty.” 

You and Spencer nod in tandem. “Sick.”

Morgan’s eyes roll straight up to the ceiling.

[ginnsbaker]

mastermind

Summary: As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy. And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her // …or the one where you find Wanda in the crowd during your band's gig, only to discover there's much more to her than you initially thought.

Word count: 5.2K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Fluff, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, Meet-cute, Drummer!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested by anon. I got carried a way for a bit and took a few liberties. Hope you like it!

-

You almost didn’t make it for tonight’s gig. 

Still recovering from the flu you caught last week, you were close to letting Kate fill in on the drums. That is, until Yelena begged you not to let her girlfriend botch a sold-out evening.

The tension backstage is thicker than Bucky’s pre-show smoothie, and, given the mishmash of green ingredients, that's saying something.

“I'm just saying, letting Kate drum tonight is like giving a cat a keyboard and expecting Bonham,” Yelena says, gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Continue talking and you might not have a girlfriend by the end of your next sentence!” Kate huffs, spinning on her heel to stomp out of the area. 

You sip on your water, trying to keep your hydration levels up but also stifle a chuckle. This isn’t the first time Yelena’s protective streak has clashed with Kate's overenthusiastic approach to... well, everything. Natasha is trying, and failing, to keep a straight face, while Bucky seems to have found sudden interest in the intricate patterns on his boots. 

Your head is throbbing, the remnants of the flu still gnawing at your energy, but you've mustered up just enough strength to make it through tonight's set. Before Yelena or any other band member can comment further, the organizer gestures for your band to take the stage.

You take a deep breath, followed by another swig of water. It's almost showtime, and the excitement is seeping through the nerves, reminding you why you endure the endless rehearsals, sleepless nights, and yes, even the pre-show squabbles.

As you step onto the stage, the applause is deafening. The lights illuminate the sea of faces before you, and you can see the familiar glint of excitement in the eyes of returning fans mixed with the curious expressions of first-timers.

Bucky approaches the mic, flashing his signature charming smile at the crowd. “Good evening, everyone! We’re ecstatic to see so many familiar faces and new ones too! We've got a great set for you tonight, but before we start, let's give a big shoutout to Y/N here, who's powering through the flu to be with us tonight!” The crowd roars in appreciation, and you can't help but wave sheepishly, a tentative smile stretching across your face.

Natasha strums the opening chords of the first song, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. Yelena, momentarily forgetting her earlier spat with Kate, loses herself in the rhythm, the bassline syncing perfectly with your drumbeat. The music flows, each note hitting the right spots, the synergy between band members mesmerizing the audience.

As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy.

And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her.

There's a brunette, her hair cascading down, dancing like she was born for this exact moment. The way she sways and lets loose to the rhythm—it's captivating.

But it's when she turns around that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Her eyes meet yours, and the world seems to slow down for a moment. Those intense, deep-set eyes pull you in, making it impossible to look away. They're filled with an emotion that's hard to pinpoint: intrigue, curiosity, maybe even a hint of challenge. The message is clear—she's noticed you, just as much as you've noticed her. 

She doesn't break the gaze, and as her hips move in tune with your beats, there's a silent communication happening. Your hands, despite the rising temperature of the room, feel cold against the drumsticks. It's a battle to maintain your rhythm and not lose yourself under her spell.

Natasha, catching the look on your face, leans in during a brief instrumental break. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, attempting to refocus. Your distraction had almost caused you to miss a beat or two. 

Your eyes are locked onto the brunette once more as she starts grinding against her friend, her movements confident, sultry, and unapologetically magnetic. It's the sort of dancing that would have any person within the perimeter drooling on the spot. Usually, you'd shy away from openly watching someone move so suggestively, but you find yourself completely mesmerized.

As the next song kicks off, you throw in some extra flash on the drums, just to see if she'll play along. And sure enough, with every fancy beat you drop, she dances right to it. It's like you're both in this unspoken challenge, seeing who can outdo the other. Your fingers grip the drumsticks tighter, and you can feel the heat rising on your face.

That's when Natasha glances in the same direction and catches on. “Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan,” she murmurs with a wink, her voice barely audible over the booming speakers.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the dryness in your mouth betrays your nonchalance. “Just playing my part,” you quip, though you're keenly aware that your concentration tonight is split between the drums and the mesmerizing dancer.

Yelena, following the exchange between you and Natasha, leans in from the bass guitar, raising an eyebrow. “Who's got you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up, Yel,” you retort. With cheeks aflame, you try to shove Yelena’s teasing aside, to focus solely on the music coursing through your veins. However, the allure of the brunette is a magnet you can’t seem to resist.

As the beat picks up, so does the pace of your heart, hammering against your chest with every enthralling movement she makes. She is intoxicating, and you’re utterly spellbound.

During the bridge, you hit a sour note—a misstep that rarely happens—and Bucky gives you a dirty look from across the stage. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to the music, and you mouth a silent “sorry” before forcing your eyes away from the captivating sight in the crowd.

But not before catching her reaction.

She's laughing, her eyes alight with impishness, and you'd swear she's looking right at you. There's a knowing smile on her lips that suggests she knows exactly the effect she’s had on you. It’s both mortifying and exhilarating.

You try to keep to the side, hiding behind cymbals and drums, but it's impossible to shake the sensation of being observed. It's like she's got a spotlight aimed right at you, and you're center stage. Every moment you resist looking her way feels like an eternity, but every time you feel the pull to glance in her direction, Yelena’s earlier tease flares in your mind, keeping your eyes stubbornly on Bucky’s flashy shoes.

As the last song fades and the applause rolls in, you set down your drumsticks, nerves and excitement warring within you. You don't hang around for Bucky's wrap-up speech. Instead, you hustle to get backstage.

-

To everyone's shock, you decide to stick around after the gig. You're usually the most introverted one in the group and never do this.

Natasha sidles up to you, a teasing smirk on her lips. “So, about that girl you couldn't take your eyes off of...?”

You attempt to play it cool, but your nervous fidgeting with your drumsticks gives you away. “What girl?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

Bucky snorts in amusement, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “The one you were practically eye-fucking the entire set? Thought you were gonna jump off stage and grab her right there.”

You're now the shade of a ripe tomato, desperately searching for a diversion. “You guys are seeing things,” you mumble, avoiding their amused gazes.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting her to throw a bra onstage or something, the way you were gawking,” Yelena chirps in.

“Enough,” you protest weakly, your voice drowned out by the laughter of your bandmates.

Just as you're about to slip away to the bar for a breather, a waiter approaches you with a drink in hand. “Compliments of the lady over there,” he says, nodding towards a dim corner of the club.

You peer in the direction he's indicating but can't make out who it's from. The drink looks fancy, possibly alcoholic. Glancing at the waiter, you inform him, “I can't drink alcohol right now, but thank you.”

Natasha snatches it from the tray. “Well, if you're not taking it, it's mine.”

Bucky laughs. “Is everyone in this club trying to woo our drummer tonight?”

You roll your eyes at them, trying not to dwell on the mystery woman. However, it's not long before the same waiter returns, this time holding a simple glass of lemonade. “The lady noticed you weren’t drinking the cocktails and thought you might prefer this.”

Your curiosity almost gets the better of you, but the memories of the striking brunette dancing to your beats earlier still linger fresh in your mind. You opt not to scour the club's corners to spot who's sending the drinks. Instead, you lift the lemonade in a thankful gesture, aiming it in the general direction of where the waiter had pointed, and offer a polite, appreciative smile into the dim.

Natasha teases, “Playing hard to get, huh?”

You shrug and take a sip from your drink. “Just soaking in the night and the rewards of our hard work,” you remark, patting the pocket where you tucked away the cash from tonight's gig. “Isn't that what we're here for?”

-

An hour later, the club's neon and strobe lights continue to play tricks on your eyes, turning every brunette head you spot into a potential sighting. Each time, however, it’s not her.

Bucky's animated conversation about a new track he's been working on fades into the background. Natasha keeps throwing you knowing glances, but doesn't press. It's Yelena who finally comments, probably having had enough of your desolate puppy-dog look. She nudges you with her elbow, Kate giggling drunkenly by her side. Yelena's arm is protectively around Kate, but her sharp gaze is all on you.

“You know, you won't find her by just sulking here and gazing at every brunette that walks past. You gotta move,” she challenges, her tone equal parts bored and encouraging.

Kate, in her slightly inebriated state, adds with a giggle, “Yeah, go get her, tiger!”

“It's not that easy, you know,” you sigh, brooding over your drink. “Plus, what if she's not even interested?”

Yelena's smirk is almost predatory. “From what I saw? Trust me, she's interested. Now go.”

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the booth. Steeling yourself, you start weaving your way through the crowd, using your slightly sober advantage to maneuver past intoxicated dancers. You scan every corner and table as you walk past, even though there's a nagging feeling in your gut that she might have already left the club.

It’s after what feels like an eternity that you spot a familiar cascade of brunette locks by the bar. She’s engaged in what appears to be an animated conversation with a tall, equally striking man. However, her posture—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around—suggests that she’s far from comfortable.

The protective instinct kicks in before you can talk yourself out of it. Closing the distance, you position yourself between her and the persistent guy, offering her a way out. “Hey there,” you say, smoothly, your voice loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “I've been looking for you. Sorry I'm late.”

She catches on immediately, her relief evident as she steps closer to you, away from the guy. “There you are! I was starting to worry,” she plays along, giving you a swift kiss on the cheeks that has your eyes widening for a second and breaking character. Thankfully, the guy doesn’t notice your blunder, and sensing he's lost this battle, scowls and retreats into the crowd.

Turning to her, you can't help the grin that finds its way to your face. “Sorry for that, I wanted to help, but I didn’t also want to cause any trouble.”

She smiles back, her eyes gleaming in the club lights. “Thank you for the save. I was about to resort to more drastic measures.”

The banter between you flows naturally, the awkward ice broken by the unusual circumstance of your first interaction. “I'm Y/N,” you offer, extending a hand.

“Wanda,” she says, taking your hand. Her grip is firm and her hand warm against yours. It sends a jolt of electricity up your arm. Only now do you notice her eyes, the shade of green in them, and the way they reveal so much yet nothing at all. Just like that, you fall a little deeper into her trap.

“Wanda,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue as if trying it out. Your smile broadens instinctively, and she catches it, her nose scrunching up bashfully.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just think it's a beautiful name. Fits someone as beautiful as you.”

She blushes, and you can't help but inwardly high five yourself for making her smile like that. She looks away for a moment, trying to hide her smile but fails miserably, and you find it endearing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her eyes meeting yours once more, a shy smile on her lips.

The night unfolds seamlessly from there. You find a quiet corner away from the crowd, where the music is a distant thump, allowing conversation to flow freely.

“So, when did you start drumming?” Wanda asks, leaning in a bit, genuinely seeming interested in your answer. You try your best to stay calm as you feel the heat radiate from her body.

“Believe it or not, I started a bit late, around twelve,” you reply, smiling at the memory of your younger self, awkwardly trying to grasp the drumsticks. “But I played the guitar first, picked it up when I was just five.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wow, so you're a multi-instrumentalist?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but can't help the proud grin that creeps onto your face. “Something like that. But I mainly stick to drums in the band.”

She tilts her head, her eyes shining with interest. “Why don't you play the guitar for the band then?”

“Natasha's better than me on the guitar. She's got this incredible flair and finesse. I mean, I'm good, but she's... amazing.”

Wanda nods, absorbing the information, “I've heard her play, she really is. But I'm sure you're just as great.”

You laugh, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, taking a sip of your drink, you add, “Playing the guitar actually helps a lot when I'm writing our songs.”

“Wait, you write the songs?”

“Most of them,” you confirm, trying to sound as modest as you can be. “It's a collaborative effort, of course. But yeah, having a knowledge of multiple instruments, especially the guitar, helps lay the foundation for many of our tracks.”

Wanda looks at you, clearly impressed. “That's incredible, Y/N. No wonder your music feels so... personal. It's like you're telling a story with every song.”

“You’ve listened to our songs before?” you ask, mildly surprised.

Wanda nods sheepishly, as if caught harboring a guilty secret. “I might have, a few times... I definitely came here tonight to see you guys perform.” 

She then places a hand on your knee, and all at once, your throat feels parched. She scoots closer to you, to speak directly into your ear. “I wish I could see you play the guitar for me.”

You swallow hard. Her suggestion has certainly crossed your mind several times throughout the conversation. “Actually,” you begin, trying to steady your voice, “we keep our instruments in the back of the van. If you're interested, I could... play something for you?”

Wanda pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, looking like she wasn’t expecting you to actually agree to give her a private performance. “Really? Now?”

You nod, then stand and extend your hand to her, grinning. “Ready for a show?”

-

This isn’t exactly the kind of show you had in mind when you led Wanda to the back of the van. But you’re just twenty seconds into the new song you’ve been working on when she grabs your face with both hands and draws you in for a ferocious kiss. It’s a kiss that you haven’t tasted in a while—completely unrestrained.

You're lucky the drum set hasn't been loaded up yet, and with Bucky's keyboard being used by the current band onstage, there's just the right amount of space. Taking advantage, you push Wanda onto her back without breaking away from the kiss.

You pull away just enough to ask, “Are you sure?” while Wanda starts to slide your jacket down your arms.

Wanda nods impatiently, tracing her tongue along the underside of your chin, clearly enjoying the reaction she provokes.

“Was that a yes?” you prod, sitting up. Wanda sighs, albeit a bit irritably, only because you're suddenly out of her reach, before she collects herself enough to answer, “Yes, Y/N, I'm sure.”

“It's just that... I usually don’t do this,” you confess, looking down in embarrassment.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure Wanda can hear it, especially with the way she's studying you intently. You can feel the heat creep up your neck, coloring your cheeks a deep shade of pink. This isn't typically your scene, and you wonder if she's regretting her decision.

But then, with a move that’s smooth and tender, Wanda slides her fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Her eyes aren't filled with judgment or mockery, but with genuine understanding and something else you can't quite place.

“I find it... sexy,” she murmurs. “It’s refreshing, actually. Everything about you feels genuine. It's rare to find someone not playing games.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. That wasn't the reaction you'd been expecting.

She smirks a little at your expression, that hint of mischief returning. “Did you think admitting you're a little inexperienced would scare me off? If anything, it makes this even more exciting.”

“I'm not exactly 'inexperienced',” you argue with a bashful smile.

Her voice drops to a whisper, making your breath catch, and she inches just a bit closer. “I'm sure about this, Y/N. The back of a van might not be a romantic scene from a movie, but…” she breathes, and then she makes sure you feel every word she’s going to say next being spoken in your ear. “But right now? I swear, I might just go crazy if you don't touch me.”

Her statement stokes the fire between your legs and acting on the pull you feel, you lean in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before capturing her lips with yours. Wanda lets out a soft, sultry moan as you deepen the kiss, your tongue boldly seeking entrance. She grants it, and you're immediately intoxicated, not just by the taste of the vodka she's been sipping on, but by Wanda herself. The way she feels, the way she responds—it's all consuming.

She tilts her head, granting you better access, and you take the opportunity to explore every inch of her mouth. The gentle tang of the alcohol is present but overshadowed by her own unique flavor, which is even more intoxicating. You can feel her hands resting on your shoulders, fingers gripping you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Wanda's breath hitches sharply as you confidently take charge. You yank her shirt off in one quick move, and she's laid bare under the soft street lights. Outside, some party is still in full swing, but in here, it's all about the uninhibited hunger between the two of you.

You slip your fingers to the back of her bra, fumbling just a moment before unhooking it, revealing her. Not wasting any time, you dive in, taking her nipple in your mouth, savoring it. The sensation drives her wild, and she arches her back, pushing herself deeper against you with a throaty moan.

Her fingers grip your hair, guiding and sometimes just pulling when she needs more. Every sound she makes, every pull of her fingers, gets you more revved up. It's intense, it's messy, but it's all too real.

As your hands venture lower, you notice her pupils dilate and her breathing grow uneven.

“You still sure?” you whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. She responds with a desperate whine, pressing her hips closer to yours.

“Use your words, baby girl,” you murmur, nipping at her pulse point.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she answers breathlessly. “Please, Y/N.”

Your fingers playfully glide over her entrance, teasing her, “So wet for me,” you marvel, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. Your fingers dip inside her just slightly, pulling back out to further tease her.

“It's too bad I don't have my strap with me,” you groan, grinding against her thigh, letting her feel how turned on you are. “You'd look so pretty, taking it all.”

Her breathing hitches, “God, I wish you had it too.”

Wanda’s whines intensify, a sweet sound of pure desperation, as you suddenly remove your fingers from her. “Why did you—” she starts to complain, but you silence her with a searing kiss.

“I want to see all of you,” you murmur against her lips. Her skirt is the next target, and you fumble with the zipper, eager to remove the barrier between your hands and her skin. However, as you're about to pull down her underwear, a thought strikes you. Looking around the back of the van, you remember how it's been used for hauling equipment, and the floor isn't exactly pristine.

Thinking quickly, you grab your jacket and lay it out beneath her, ensuring she's on a cleaner surface. “Always got to take care of my girl,” you wink at her, trying to lighten the moment.

“Your girl?” Wanda echoes, her eyes half-lidded, a playful smile curling on her lips.

You realize your slip-up a beat too late, but then, her underwear and skirt are swiftly discarded, and she lies there, beautifully exposed to your hungry gaze.

“You're breathtaking,” you whisper in awe.

She flushes under your gaze. “I could say the same for you,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes roam her body, the soft curves and inviting skin, particularly where she's most sensitive. But you've always been one for asking. 

“Can I taste you?” The question leaves your lips, whispered against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver.

She responds with a needy, “Yes, please,” and bites her bottom lip, arching her hips slightly, as if laying herself bare for your indulgence.

You don't waste any more time. Shuffling down, you position yourself between her legs, the aromatic scent of her arousal filling your senses. Carefully, you part her folds with your fingers, your tongue darting out to collect the first taste. The first touch of your tongue against her wetness draws a sharp inhale from her, followed by a moan that has your ears burning from how shameless it sounds.

Your tongue swirls around her swollen nub, establishing a pattern that has her thighs clenching around your head. “Fucky, right there,” she groans, her hips thrusting up, eager to meet each glide and flick of your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth paired with her whimpers urge you to sneak a hand beneath your jeans, seeking relief for your own building tension.

Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if she's trying to mold you to her. “More, right there... Oh, god!” she cries out, providing the exact guidance you need.

Amused by her reactions, you intentionally draw out a slurping sound as your tongue dives deeper, making Wanda retreat, but you abandon your own need for release to grab her ass and pull her back to your mouth. 

“Y/N, please, please, I’m—”

“You like that, don't you?” you tease, voice husky with lust. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

She keens, a desperate sound, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair. You're relentless, enjoying every second of her unraveling, and she's close—so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Wanda?” you growl, lost in the intoxicating taste of her, pressing your tongue deeper, seeking out every intimate spot that makes her body jolt and writhe above you. Her voice breaks into a high-pitched cry, “Y/N! I'm—I'm—” and you feel her climax, her entire body shaking with the force of it, her wetness dripping from your chin down to your throat, drenching you in the process. 

Wanda's gasps fill the space as she shudders, the aftershocks of her orgasm leaving her body trembling. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you take in the sight of her, completely spent and vulnerable. She squirms beneath your mouth, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. “Too much,” she pants, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her plea, you continue your ministrations, lips and tongue working in tandem, driving her to the brink once more. As you feel her tensing up, preparing to escape your relentless assault, you slip two fingers inside her, feeling the tight clench of her around you. The unexpected intrusion steals her breath and the fight from her limbs, her resistance melting under your touch.

“You want more, don't you?” you murmur before your lips find her clit again. 

The van is starting to smell like sex. You know you'll have to do something about this later, but for now, you can't bring yourself to care as you take in every detail of the naked girl before you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for Wanda, teetering on the edge of pain, but she feels another climax building deep inside her.

“Y/N!” she cries, her grip on your hair tightening, her back arching. “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!”

You don't stop, doubling your efforts, fingers and tongue working in sync, driving her up and beyond any point she's ever known. Suddenly, there's a gush, wetter and warmer than before, surprising you both. You pull back slightly, and she looks down, mortified. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she tries to squirm out from beneath you.

“I'm so sorry... I—” Wanda stammers, scrambling to hide her face in her hands.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smirk forming on your lips. “Wanda, that was... incredibly hot.”

She looks away, still trying to process what just happened. “I didn’t... I've never...”

Sitting up, you gently cup her face, making her look at you. “Hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, trying to reassure her. “Don't be embarrassed. I'm honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to let go completely.”

She gives a shaky laugh, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your chest. “I can't believe you made me do that on the first try.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to be able to,” you say with a chuckle, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

She blushes for a moment, then says, “I noticed you didn’t... you know. Do you want me to...?”

“Next time,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I need to make sure this van doesn’t end up as evidence of our... activities.” You wink, earning a soft giggle from her.

“Besides, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you fall apart because of me,” you add, mischievously wetting your lips.

She blushes, playfully swatting at your arm. “You're impossible.”

-

You were the first to step out of the van, offering Wanda a moment of privacy to get dressed. When she finally emerges, she leans on you for support. “I can't feel my legs,” she jokes, struggling a bit. She hands you your jacket which you'd forgotten, helping you slip it on. Immediately, the scent of her hits you, reminding you that she had climaxed twice on that very fabric.

Before you can dwell on the thought, a man approaches Wanda. It’s the same guy from earlier, the one she was arguing with at the bar. You instinctively square your shoulders, ready to step in between them, protectively, but Wanda halts you with a hand on your chest.

“Pietro!” Wanda exclaims, letting out an exasperated sigh as she utters her brother's name. You halt, puzzled.

She knows this guy?

Pietro looks at Wanda, then at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “You ready to go, Wanda?” he asks, clearly impatient.

She turns to you, giving you a soft, apologetic smile. “Y/N, this is my brother, Pietro.”

You swallow dryly, offering a somewhat clammy hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro just eyes your hand, perhaps connecting the dots from earlier. Feeling like an idiot, you quickly pull your hand back, subtly rubbing it against your pants. He departs without another word, muttering to Wanda, “I'll be in the car. Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Wanda watches Pietro go, her smile fading a bit. Turning back to you, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, about earlier,” she starts, biting her lower lip nervously. “I might have, um... staged that whole fight thing to get your attention. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but he played along.” Her eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze.

You blink, processing her confession. Before you can come up with any coherent response, she giggles at the dumbfounded expression on your face. “I really have to go,” she says.

And then, before you can react, she plants a featherlight kiss on your cheek. The warmth of it lingers on your skin as she steps back, her eyes holding yours for a long, sweet moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening under the soft moonlight. “Tonight was... unexpected, but amazing.”

And with that, she turns and hurries off to where Pietro is waiting for her by a parked car. You stand there, feeling the spot on your cheek where her lips touched, watching her until she hops into the car and drives off into the night. It’s only after the car disappears around the bend that you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to ask for her number. With a sigh, you turn back to your van, resigned to cleaning up.

The chill of the night settles in, and when you slip your hands into your jacket pockets, your fingers catch a scrap of paper. It feels out of place, foreign to the usual belongings you stash in there. You pull it out, and to your surprise, it's a receipt. The drinks listed there jog a memory: an alcoholic cocktail offered to you earlier in the night which you politely declined, and the tangy lemonade that followed right after.

Realization dawns on you. Wanda had been orchestrating things all night. You flip the receipt over and your heart skips a beat. Scrawled at the back in a neat, cursive handwriting is her number, accompanied by a simple message: “Call me soon.”

Grinning like a fool, you grab a cloth and some disinfectant from the compartment. Cleaning the back of a van has never felt this satisfying.

[chevroletdean]

biting / marking [sam winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024 ship: sam x afab!fem!reader genre: smut to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, vague descriptions of the reader, sam being a bit rough and unfair, oral (fem receiving), petnames (doll, princess and such) word count: 1.3k a/n: this isn’t proofread, sorry. i’m rushing through the kinktober at this point, wahhh taglist: comment a book emoji 📚 to be added to the sam x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts) @s7nburn

It started innocently enough, but the process definitely wasn’t a slow one. The first time around, a cozy morning after a long night, the sight of a hickey peeking out of your turtleneck awakened something in him. That’s all it took for him to know he likes a trace of himself on you. Ever since then, he’s deemed it his mission to make it as difficult as possible for you to cover up the evidence of your passionate moments.

Sam has always loved the aftermath, the remnants of your bliss – and why gradually pick things up when he could just wreck you right away? You always look so pretty when he’s done with you.

The way a sheer layer of sweat would stick to your flushed skin, making you glow. The way your hair would spill over the pillows, framing your reddened face and creating a messy halo. The way your eyelashes would flutter weakly against your cheekbones as you struggle to keep your eyes open. The way your lips would slightly part as you’d try to catch your breath. They’re prettiest when they’re kiss bitten, pink, plump and swollen.

But his favorite are the constellations of purple scattered across your body.

Because those stick for a while and they fill him with pride.

If he can have it his way – and for the most part, he does – he treats your body as a canvas. You’re already a work of art, but there’s this primal urge of his to add his signature. To mark you as his muse. Every artist has a favorite tool and his preferred method is his mouth.

Sure, his large hands never fail to find home in the plush of your skin and leave behind a print or two; just like right now. His grip is like iron as his fingers deftly sink into your hips to pin you down.

But his mouth creates the prettiest patterns on you.

You’re already covered in hickeys from his lips latching onto you; not to mention the indents of his teeth. Like little nicks, deep enough to bruise just slightly without drawing any blood. He could break you so easily, yet you continue your attempts to push yourself impossibly closer to him still, wanting more. The blind trust you offer him is addictive. You seem so fragile underneath him like this, completely at his mercy.

“You squirm too much, doll,” he grumbles. As if he could ever actually be annoyed by your adorable little reactions. Those noises fuel him further, if anything.

His voice is half-muffled by the flesh of your inner thigh, which he sinks his teeth into in warning fashion. You respond with a soft sob and he licks over the tender spot apologetically. His tongue is searing hot against your sensitive skin and despite your best attempts to still your movements, he still makes you shudder. In your defense, Sam has spent a good amount of time just kissing up your legs and thighs. You’ve long lost track of time by now, but you’d have an even harder time counting all the marks he’s left behind on your skin. There have been too many soft, wet kisses planted against your tummy and between your legs for you to keep track of.

Not an inch of you is spared by his hungry mouth.

“Sorry, ‘m s-sorry… just–” you whine, interrupted by yet another playful nibble of his sharp teeth. His lips ghost over your clit and you hold your breath. You know better than to make any commands – not that you’re in any state to form any coherent sentence anyway –, unless asked for otherwise. Even if you’re on the brink of melting after all his teasing, Sam’s the one deciding when he’s had enough, and his thirst for your taste is far from satiated.

“Shhh, I know,” he hums and you swear you can feel the victorious smirk on his lips right against your core. “Just stay still f’me, princess.”

Not that you have much of a chance anyway with your movement restricted by his strong hands. Sam shifts below you so his head is slotted between your thighs, one arm wrapped around your lower half enough to hold you against the mattress. Instinctively your trembling legs drape over his broad shoulders. You feel daring enough (and needy for an anchor) to reach down to him and he obliges, using his free hand to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers and his warm breath tickles your slick.

He’s even more thorough when it comes to diving into your folds than he is kissing your thighs. His mouth is hot against you, drinking you in like you’re the finest liquor – and to him, you’re just as intoxicating. His tongue nestles into you with the intention to suck you dry and his sharp nose presses against your clit.

You whimper, your voice almost broken as your breath stutters in your throat. The sound is strained enough for him to pull back and place a gentle kiss to your center, giving you a second to breathe.

“You good, baby?”

You nod your head eagerly and squeeze his hand, but he lets go of it and gives your thigh a light pat or two, firmly enough to get you to respond properly. Sam always needs to make sure you’re still with him, attentive and enjoying yourself.

“Feels s’good, Sammy,” you confirm shyly. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, pretty,” he chuckles darkly, returning to feasting on you until his chin is glistening with your juices. You’d be bucking your hips wildly to grind against his face were it not for his strong arm holding onto you like a damn vice. It just makes you whine all the louder, but Sam’s in a giving mood. “Almost there, you’re so good f’me,” he mumbles, slurring and babbling his words like a drunk.

He pushes you right to that edge of pleasure, a familiar coil tightening in the pits of your stomach. Sam’s tongue flicks against you with practiced ease, alternating between flattening the muscle against you and curling his lips in a way that makes you moan. You’re on the brink of ecstasy, when he suddenly pulls away.

“N-no, please,” you complain desperately. He’s teased you enough! This is just cruel.

“Not done with you yet,” Sam huffs. “Gotta give some extra attention to more obvious places too, hm?”

Your mind is too hazy to make sense of his words, let alone respond, until his lips wander upwards steadily. He licks a languid stripe up to your navel, followed with soft nibs over your ribs. You swallow thickly as his lips close around one of your pebbled nipples and you yelp softly as he uses his teeth to give it a playful tug. He only switches to the other breast to give it the same treatment, working another hickey onto it. It’s a harsher bite close to your collarbone that makes you squeal, which in return makes him chuckle.

“Sorry, got a bit greedy there,” he grins, those hazel eyes of his clearly satisfied with seeing your cute pout. He decides to soothe that little frown away by pressing his lips to yours and making you taste yourself.

It should shock you how easy it is for him to make you forget all your annoyances. After all, you’re still left high and dry, and all it takes is a simple kiss for you to melt under him. His mouth wanders yet again, following a path across your cheekbone. His teeth catch your earlobe, pinching it gently. His kisses suck reddish marks along your jawline and down your neck.

Flushing, you arch your back, realizing he’s marking you up on purpose. He’s busy with a spot under your chin, making you gasp softly. “Sammy, the weather is way too warm for scarves,” you protest within a weak huff. “There’s no way I can cover those up.”

“That’s the whole point, doll,” Sam replies, the curl of his smirk pressed against your throat. “By the time I’m done with you, a scarf wouldn’t make a difference anyway.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here ──〃★ kinktober

[dawn-moths]

Turquoise & Temptations

Neuvillette x Female Reader

word count: 2600+

(Being the girl of Fontaine’s Chief Justice has its ups and downs, but one thing is for certain— the time you two spend together in Neuvillette’s office at the end of a long workday, whether he’s filing some last minute paperwork or simply taking a moment of peace and quiet before heading home, always has the opportunity to get interesting…)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, semi-public sex (you’re in his office but the door’s not locked), size difference, daddy kink, mention of punishment with no actual punishment, reader is called “sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby”, minimal prep, some aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You shifted your position sitting in Neuvillette’s lap, straddling him with the skirts of your dress bunched up and your lace-clad core pressed against where his own growing arousal had begun to jut from his pants, trying to be sly in grinding your needy sex harder down against him, as if he’d even have a chance to miss it.

You’ve been like this for a while now— cradled against his chest and nearly dozing off while he finishes up some last minute paperwork at his desk, lashes fluttering with oncoming sleep, lips slightly parted as your breathing began to grow slow and shallow— but it was technically his fault for getting you so worked up in the first place.

He’d started it, after all, causing you to jolt back to consciousness when you felt his cock twitch in his trousers as your weight had settled overtop his lap with just enough pressure to stir something a little less professional in him.

He clicks his tongue at you, but it’s not with annoyance. It’s with that condescending adoration that tends to weave through his tone whenever you get impatient, unable to let him finish his work before distracting him with your body and the fantasy of all the ways he wants to have you.

Because, while he may have been guilty of starting things, you were far more guilty of instigating, hiking your dress up higher to allow you more room to spread your thighs wider over his own, rocking forward and arching your back a bit until you found just the right place to satisfy your own needs.

At least, they’d be satisfied for a little while. You both knew before long you’d grow needy and demand more for him, tearing the Chief Justice from his more official duties and encouraging him to engage in some more personal affairs.

“Daddy’s almost done, sweetheart,” he cooed, one hand wielding a shiny gold fountain pen and scribbling off his tight-scrawled, looping signature on the dotted line while the other rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place, as if you had any intention of trying to leave. “Just be patient for a little while longer and then I’ll—”

His promise was cut off by a strangled whine caught in his throat, not missing the devious way your gloss-shined lips were curving into a defiant little smirk. His stunning gunmetal gaze leveled on you, his next signature left abandoned halfway through on the parchment as he held your stare, testing you now, daring you to keep going before he gave you permission.

If you did, he might just have to punish you, bend you over his desk and fuck you fast and hard till there were tears in those pretty little doe-eyes of yours, forcing you to keep quiet with a big, leather gloved hand clasped over your open mouth, biting back his own moans the best he could until he felt like you’d learned your lesson.

You seemed to foresee this possibility, so you kept still, your throat bobbing with a hard, anticipatory swallow, your pussy throbbing at the thought of it, and waiting for Neuvillette to resume his writing. He cleared his throat and concluded his signature, dotting the i and crossing the double t’s a little more aggressively than he had previously, the quick tap and scritch of the pen’s sharp nib marking the page in ebony ink making you flinch a tiny bit.

You thought he was finally finished when he gathered up the thick stack of papers in both hands and shuffled them on the surface of the marble desk, smoothing them all in perfect order before tying them with a piece of cobalt twine and sealing the documents with a wax stamp of shimmering silver, ready to be picked up and sent off to wherever it was the court transcripts went once he was done with them, but then he seemed to begin with a whole new stack, this one even taller and wordier than the last, so you couldn’t help but huff out a breath of blatant indignance. 

Neuvillette hummed out a low, lilting chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours as you pressed yourself closer to him, tugging at the lapels of his coat and whimpering in protest. “Don’t worry, princess…” he assured you. “I’m just getting things in order for tomorrow.”

“And how long will that take…?” you muttered under your breath, thinking you might act out and risk the consequences depending on his answer.

But then you felt both of his gloved hands on you, long fingers flexing where they held your hips, sending a momentary confusion through you when he seemed to be pulling you down harder against him rather than shifting you away for your backtalk.

“Tell you what,” he began, his voice, normally so authoritative and commanding in the courtroom, turned honey-sweet and soothing when it came to you, even when you were insisting on being a little bit of a needy brat. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work—” He held up a finger to signal silence as your mouth fell open in premature protest. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work,” he repeated, pausing for a second and raising his eyebrows slightly, challenging you to try and interrupt again, “and I’ll let you have your way until I’m done.”

You cocked your head at him, eyes narrowed and mouth twitching into a crooked frown of pondering, wondering if this was some kind of test or not. Then it was his turn to catch you off guard, rocking his hips up into yours and causing you to emit a stuttering gasp as you felt just how hard his length had become, your eyes fluttering and beginning to roll from the sudden jolt of pleasure, your body surging with the need for more, more more, sheer, unadulterated want racing through your blood like sparks of white-hot electricity.

“Go on…” he smugly directed you, his eyes flicking from your face down to where your two bodies sought each other out and back again. Then, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear, his lips barely brushing the shell of it and causing a gentle shudder to skitter up your spine, he teasingly murmured, “Just be sure not to make too much noise. I’m pretty sure I left the door unlocked and, well…”

And, well, if anyone heard your high-pitched moans muffled from the other side of the double doors, they might creep up closer to investigate, maybe even dare to enter after giving the customary knock of courtesy and find you in a state you’d be mortified for anyone besides Neuvillette to see you in.

“I’ll be quiet,” you muttered back, unable to hide the excitement that was flooding your chest more and more by the second, your eager little fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, the gentle clink of the silver against your freshly manicured nails— this week a shade of pale turquoise— echoing quietly throughout the spacious office room until finally you were able to tug the leather strap free so it could dangle from the sides of the loops in his pristinely pressed trousers.

Pristine, of course, except for the damp spot left on his crotch, both of your intermingled arousal staining through to ruin his expensive work attire.

That was alright with Neuvillette though. Whether it was his clothes or your own that got ruined during these acts, he could always just buy more. To him, a constantly updated wardrobe was a small price to pay for how good it felt when he was inside you, suddenly wishing he’d decided to leave early that day so you two could finish this in your shared master bedroom of his estate, no need to keep quiet in the slightest as he forced melodic mewls and euphoric moans from your pretty little mouth, drinking them in, drowning in them, completely addicted.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, pressing a chaste, tender peck to your temple before continuing on with his work.

Once you’d pulled his cock free of its constraints, Neuvillette had to remind himself to keep his own sounds of pleasure quiet as well, gulping down the groan he already felt rising in his chest as you ran your soft little hands up and down the length of him, appearing entranced as you admired the blushing pink tip, pearly pre-cum already drooling out onto your palms, every vein and ridge of his velvety member practically committed to your memory, and making your dripping little hole flutter in anticipation.

Neuvillette gripped the gold fountain pen in his hand a little tighter, his stomach muscles flinching as you guided his cock between your soaked folds, the lace of your drenched panties giving just enough friction to make him crazy, melting his sharp mind into something dull and hazy with the slow dripping pleasure, his breath beginning to come out in short, panting huffs rather than the sure, steady, and stoic way he usually carried himself.

“God—” he exhaled, strangled and struggling to keep his composure. You grinded yourself down harder against him, your own angelic sighs of satisfaction fanning over the bit of exposed skin on his neck and making his cock pulse in your grip. Then he couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to hook his thumbs into the thin, delicate waistband of your lace panties and tearing them off with one harsh, hungry tug.

And he always said you were the one who was too impatient.

“I can’t focus with you around,” he was practically growling, stealing his cock away from your clumsy little hands and guiding it by the base until he felt the tip catch on your tight little hole, tugging another sharp gasp from your throat, using the other hand to nudge you forward to sink further down onto his cock.

You bit your tongue as you felt a moan clawing its way up your chest, knowing he’d been serious when he’d told you to keep quiet— for both his sake and yours— but you couldn’t hold it in. Burying your face in his shoulder, you cried out as he forced himself the rest of the way in with one quick, stinging thrust, splitting you in two and causing fat, sparkling tears to well in your blurring vision from the sudden, burning stretch of him nestled so deep inside of you.

You felt his body relax a fraction then, shedding some of that animalistic desire and allowing him to return to the safety of the sweet, soft-spoken Daddy that you knew him to be, running a hand up and down you back in slow, soothing motions as he muttered out little apologies like, “Sorry for being so rough with you, sweetheart,” and “Daddy just couldn’t take it anymore. But don’t worry. I’m going to make it all up to you now,” until you raised your head from its hiding place in his shoulder and let him pepper loving little kisses to your neck, his mouth trailing down to the plush, flushed flesh of your exposed cleavage and sucking a little there, giving you some time to adjust to the feeling of being so painfully full of him.

“Please…” you exhaled, voice cracked and broken with another whine of pleasure as the aching in your core twisted even tighter, a cord about to snap. “Please, Daddy… I need you. Please…”

And Neuvillette didn’t wait a second longer to start rolling his hips up into you again, slow and steady at first, tugging one of his gloves free with his teeth and tossing it to land on his desk so he could feel every part of you, running the rough pad of his thumb over your pulsing, swollen clit and clenching his jaw as he winced, feeling your insides squeeze around him in that painfully sweet way you both loved so much.

“That’s it…” he encouraged, rocking up into you a little harder then as the pressure of his circles increased, knowing neither of you had much longer to go now, his voice laced with something raspy and borderline feral. “Good girl… Just like that— Archons, baby—”

You were biting the fabric of Neuvillette’s coat between your teeth, doing your best to ride him in tandem with his skillful ministrations until you were seizing up and coming undone for the first time that evening, your legs trembling and your muscles constricted as more of your glistening slick dripped down in thick, dewy strands to stain the inside of your thighs and his trousers, his cock pulsing where it was still buried deep inside your tender cunt.

He was filling you to the brim mere seconds later, the familiar flood of his viscous, sticky warmth filling your tummy and soothing you from the inside out. As you slumped in his arms, Neuvillette held you close, running the fingers of his untarnished, gloved hand through your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, tracing little patterns into the soft skin between your shoulder blades where there was a diamond cutout in your dress’s back as he helped you through the comedown.

Once he’d gone completely soft inside of you, he placed both hands under your thighs and carefully lifted you from his lap and onto the top of his desk, pushing the papers that still littered it to the far end before instructing you to lay back so he could clean you up. At least, to the best of his ability given all he really had on hand at the moment was a handkerchief. 

You flinched as the cool marble of the desktop met the backs of your bare arms, exhaling a shuddering breath through your nose as the cold air of the room kissed your exposed, soaked pussy, sending yet another chill through you.

“I know, baby…” Neuvillette cooed, giving the crisp, satiny handkerchief in his hand a quick whip so it could unfurl, starting his tender, meticulous work in caring for his favorite girl after she was so spent. “I’ll draw you a nice, warm bath once we get home, so just bare it a little longer, alright?”

As he wiped as much slick from between your legs as he could, attempting to attend to himself afterward but giving up halfway, just thankful the length of his coat would cover any lingering evidence, you felt like you could drift off to sleep again, eyelids growing heavy as the surface of the desk gradually warmed beneath you from your radiating body heat.

But you couldn’t sleep here. Not now. Because not five seconds after Neuvillette had helped you off the desk and back on your own two wobbly, tired legs, straightening out your skirts and smoothing down the front of his closed coat, there was the tell-tale knocking of one of the courthouse’s interns at the office door.

You gave your Daddy a look of concern and alarm, unsure of how much evidence of what you two had done was left in the open, but Neuvillete just flashed you a cocky grin and called out for them to enter, quietly telling you to take a seat in the big, plush armchair behind his desk as he grabbed up the papers and hurried to meet the intern halfway to hand them off, engaging in a short, pleasant conversation before sending them on their way and hopefully none the wiser.

“Alright, princess,” he beckoned you, reapproaching to offer you a hand as you stood from the chair. “Let’s go home.”

Just before allowing you to lock your arm with his like you usually did, Neuvillette knelt down and picked up a piece of shredded, icy blue lace fabric— the remnants of one of your favorite pair of panties, destroyed with his impatiently eager hands— and shoved it into his pocket.

He’d owe you new ones, plus interest, for having torn them up without any warning, but you didn’t necessarily mind.

You just hoped the next time you two did something like this in his office during work hours, he remembered to lock the door.

***

(Anyone else also sort of obsessing over some of the new Fontaine guys, or just me lol

I definitely see myself writing more for Neuvillette in the future, especially as we learn more about him.

Anyway, like always, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day! <3)

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, smut, MDNI; spit kink, dry humping, creampie)

the part before: breaking me (not literally)

Lazy evenings with König

...are what I enjoy most about being with him. Now that I'm staying at his place, we get a lot of those.

We just sit on the couch, listening to music and exist in the same space. Doing something on our own. I started another crochet project, I'm actually trying to make a cute lacey top, but the pattern isn't that easy.

Sometimes we share a drink, just like today. The glass of wine passes between us because he poured himself one, and I didn't want to get up and get my own.

His hand is on my thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles over the skin that is showing. And I have a hard time concentrating on my crochet project because of it, the soft touches pulling me out of my thoughts while trying to replicate the pattern.

He's reading something, something in German, those goddamn glasses on his nose, while caressing and kneading my thigh, not even paying attention to his lingering touches. Just absentmindedly stroking until he removes his hand to pick up the glass of wine again. Taking a sip and handing it to me then.

I sigh and put the whole crochet project away before reaching for the glass and scooting closer to him.

His eyes pan from the pages to me, looking at me from over his glasses, like "what?". I chuckle, crawling over his lap, and the curious look turns into a knowing one. His signature smirk turns up one of the corners of his mouth, while I settle down on his lap. His hands land on my hips, softly kneading, while I lean forward and give him a little kiss. I straighten back up while he sets the book and his reading glasses down on the end table.

His gaze is on me again, getting heated, when I drink some of the wine.

"Can I have some as well?", he asks, seeming a little breathless. I want to hand him the glass, but he gently pushes it back into mine.

"No, I mean... from your mouth.", he explains, the look on his face heated, but earnest, his cheeks coloured in the lightest shade of red. He clearly isn't joking right now, looking at me, patiently waiting.

My lips part as the little request sends a pang of filthy need to my core, my hips are squirming in his lap and I can feel his dick harden against me. I mean, we already shared drinks like that, from his mouth to mine or vice versa. This isn't any different, right?

I take another sip of wine and lean forward to press my lips to his, kissing him. Slowly letting him taste me and the wine. He moans into my mouth when I deepen the kiss, his tongue stroking eagerly against mine.

His hand tangles in my hair as he frenches me (He wouldn't like me calling it 'frenching'), a deep and sloppy kiss, while I pull up his shirt a bit. Caressing over the tummy and his muscles with my fingertips.

When I break away, I can see the hazy expression on his face, the hoods lidded, almost seeming drowsy. Something they call Schlafzimmerblick in German, ‘bedroom stare’. His mouth has fallen open just a little bit and his eyes are fixed on my lips, like he is still thinking about it.

"You like that, huh?", I tease him softly while I know myself just how wet it made me. I can feel the slick between my thighs as I press myself against his lap, the thin layers of fabric a barrier between me and him.

"Yes.", he answers without hesitation, his hands gripping my hips, his fingers digging into the swells of my ass. He clears his throat. "Could you do it again?"

"Hm, I don't know...", I tease him a little more, a little bratty smile forming on my face, and he groans.

"Please, I-", he starts again, but I already lift the glass to my lips.

I sit up a little straighter, scooting up his body. My hand is tangled in his hair as I lean forward to kiss him again. Letting the sip of wine slowly trickle down into his mouth while my legs close around his waist, my hips searching for friction, finding it as I grind against his abs. The fabric of my panties and my short shorts are in between, I can feel the roughness of it against my sensitive slick skin, and I wish they weren't.

His needy kisses spur me on. Seeing, feeling, sensing how he drinks me up, how he's hanging onto my lips, it gets me as well. When I break away again, his hands are still grabbing me, his eyes intently on mine, the filthy need of his winning over his hesitant restraint.

"Please, fuck, just-" He breathes in harshly. "Just spit in my mouth, I need to taste you.", he begs, his deep voice desperate and needy as his arms close around me, pulling me closer to him.

I still for a moment, his words registering in my mind, and I suppress a groan. Fuck, I'm so turned on, my panties damp and wet. Fighting the urge to restlessly rub myself over his stomach.

I look into his eyes, darting from one to the other. He's just waiting, patiently, what I'm going to do. Letting his arms drop away a bit to give me some space to think. I put the wine glass down on the end table, scoot up further and he instinctively tilts his head back, so it rests against the sofa cushions, his long hair falling down the backrest.

I place my hand on the side of his face, moving it down to his chin. His mouth falls open and I take that as the invitation it is, letting the dollop of spit that rests on my tongue slowly drip down until it lands on his.

His eyes roll back as he closes his mouth and swallows down my taste, a low groan dropping from his throat. The sound sending a shiver down my spine.

I press my lips to his and he almost devours me with his desperate kiss, his hands roaming my body until they land on my hips again. Dragging me back and forth, and the sensations shake me, my thighs starting to tremble. Oh fuck, this is really getting me worked up.

"Have to get these off.", I tell him, the words getting swallowed up by his mouth, still stealing kisses.

He pulls back a bit, a string of saliva hanging between our lips, while I scramble to get my pants off and he pulls his shirt over his head, the black fabric damp and sweaty.

Then my wet pussy rests against his stomach. He growls when my wetness spreads on his abs and tummy, soaking parts of the happy trail leading further down. I moan, a soft turned-on sound, pressing against his lips, licking, nipping, getting all sloppy with it again, while I drag myself over his stomach. Feeling the hard shapes against my pussy. Feeling deliciously dirty.

"I need more, please.", he mumbles into the kiss.

A little smirk stalks onto my lips as I pull back and look down at him, not moving a bit, stopping the rolls of my hips against his stomach. Just caressing his face softly, feeling the scruff on his jaw against the palm of my hand. Toying a bit with him, and I enjoy seeing him like this...

"Please, just- I'll do anything.", he almost pleads, his eyebrows turned up.

"Anything?", I ask, while I pull his head back again, my fingers gripping his hair tighter.

"Yes." His lips part as he looks up at me. The look in his eyes, how he gazes up at me, make my lower belly tingle. It feels like he is at my mercy for once, and the feeling is intoxicating.

"Please, Liebes. Spit in my mouth again.", he begs, again. No shame in his voice, just pure need.

Seeing the big strong man crumble like that, desperate, pleading for a filthy little taste of me is a heady sensation. His hips rut forward into nothing, I can feel him squirming beneath me.

Anticipation is building in my core while I'm pulling his head back a little bit further. "Open up.", I whisper, and he drops his jaw in an instant.

And I spit. The sound alone sends a tingle down his spine, I can feel him shivering beneath me. The saliva hits his tongue and lips, and he laps it up.

Seeing the pure unadulterated pleasure on his face does something to me and I can't stop rubbing myself on him, his fingers digging into my thighs, moving me over him, spurring me on.

His eyes are turned up, looking at me with that look, totally enamored by me. And I press my lips to his slightly opened mouth, needy to taste him as well, his deep warm scent and the tart hint of wine.

I kiss him with a frenzy, not stopping my movements, feeling his hard muscles, the soft tummy and the fluffy curls of his happy trail against my slick pussy.

His one hand is still on my ass, digging into the plush pillow, while the other slowly strokes to the front until his fingertips find my clit. I'm a wet writhing mess, his fingers stroking over the sensitive nub, circling it.

He swallows up the sounds that rise up my throat, kissing me deep and sloppy, his tongue stroking against mine. The next roll of my hips, his fingers pressing against my clit, and I come, trembling as I restlessly rub myself over his stomach, riding it out, while he whispers sweet nothings to me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer.

Still moving, I smile against his lips. "I think I just discovered that we both like that very much.", I whisper to him, coming down from my orgasm.

"Yeah...", he answers, kissing me again. "Fuck, I almost came in my pants.", he confesses which pulls a chuckle from me.

I slide down a bit until I'm seated on his lap again, my eyes panning down. The tip of his dick is poking out of his boxers, a stain of precum staining the fabric beneath.

"Liked it that much, huh?", I say, taunting him with a pulled-up brow while I drag my finger over his tip.

"Ja, fuck. You taste fucking divine", he drawls. "And leaving a mess like that on my stomach..." The heat in his gaze intensifies as his eyes dart to the wet trail on his tummy and abs where I shamelessly rubbed myself to completion.

"Apparently, I like making messes.", I tell him.

"Those messes I can get behind.", he says simply, a filthy little smirk tipping up the corner of his mouth. He leans forward to kiss me again and I don't think I could ever stop kissing him.

I just came, but I can't get enough of him, holding onto his bare shoulders, my hands greedily roaming his burly back.

He pulls my shirt up, breaking the kiss for a moment to lift it over my head and tossing it to the side. His hands shoot up to fondle my tits, playing with them as his lips finds mine again. He pinches my nipple softly before squeezing the supple mounds, his huge hands cupping them.

My mind is still reeling, hazy with pleasure, whiny mewls dropping from my mouth, but I just need more of him, closer, just...

"I need you inside me.", I tell him, whispering softly against his lips.

"Let me get a-", he starts, almost getting up with me in his arms.

I pull back a bit, looking at him. "No, I mean, like this." He slumps back into the cushions and I rub myself against him, the fabric of his boxers against my sensitive skin. "Without anything between us."

His eyes snap to mine, searching them. "Are you sure?", he asks, a little breathless.

I nod, sure that I want this. Not sure about his reaction though. "Yes, you know I'm on the pill now, and I'm clean.", I explain with a calmness, that I don't really have. I'm so wound tight and needy, my pussy still leaking wetness onto his lap, anticipating what he will say. He's just looks at me, contemplating.

"Fuck, okay, I'm clean as well.", he breathes, but he doesn't move. I still can see a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"We don't have to do it, if you don't want to.", I say, backing off, smiling at him. It's okay, of course. I want him to be okay with it too. "We'll just get a-"

He grabs me, pulling me into him. "I want to.", he simply says, a little shiver shaking him. "You really are sure?", he wants to know again, but I don’t have any second thoughts in my mind.

"Yes.", I answer again, pressing my lips to his. His tongue pushes into my mouth, stroking against mine, his hand tangling in my hair.

I free his dick from his boxers, pulling the waistband down further, so I can feel his heat against me. I don't break the kiss while I rub my slick all over him, the movements hurried and needy.

Until I can't take it anymore. I get up a bit, lining his length up with my entrance, and slowly sink down on him. Inch by inch. Cursing quietly at the stretch while his gaze holds mine, his mouth falling open, a deep ragged breath shaking him.

We both groan in unison when the swells of my ass rest on his lap, his dick fully seated inside me. "You feel so good, fuck.", he sighs.

I feel tight, so fucking tight around him still, my walls pressing down on him, as he stretches me over and over again while I start to ride him. His tip massaging against the soft spongy spot inside me, when I start to roll my hips, and I think I can even feel his fucking piercing.

"Oh, fuck, you're squeezing me.", he groans, his head falling back. The ecstatic expression on his face is mirroring mine as I move up and down his length. Slowly, relishing the feeling of him slipping in and out of me.

He looks completely lost in his pleasure, just like before, taking what I'm giving him for a change, riding him with languid strokes.

"So good for me today, huh?", I whisper softly, and the little comment gets me in trouble. His eyes light up, his hands are grabbing me again, the quick movements make me lose the rhythm.

"Always, brat.", he growls, pulling me into him. Lifting me easily, only to push me down into the cushions again a second later. Now I'm the one looking up at him, his tall stature towering over me.

He gets rid of his pants hurriedly before he pushes my legs up and slips into me, groaning when my pussy swallows him up, and I can’t help the loud moan escaping from my lips when he bottoms me out.

His gaze is fixed on the spot where we are connected, watching his dick move out and press into me again, slowly, nothing between us. My eyes are on him as he places his arms beside me on the cushions, and I go to hold my own legs up, spreading myself wide for him.

"Good girl.", he drawls, and if I wasn't bent in half like this already, I would have folded.

His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I can feel how my pussy is clenching down on him, when he hits that sensitive spot inside me.

"Oh fuck.", he curses, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he wills them to stay on my face. I know he can feel it, more intensely than usual. The warmth, the wetness. The inevitable closeness.

His long dark hair is falling forward when he thrusts into me, his hand pushing the strands back every so often, so he can keep looking at me, the ends shaking with every roll of his hips. His face is soft, his jaw slack, his eyebrows turned up. In contrast with his deep, hard strokes, his lap colliding with mine in loud slaps of skin against skin.

My spine goes rigid, the orgasm slamming into me with full force, the enraptured look on his face getting burned into my mind as I look up at him, pulsing around his dick.

Choked moans drop from my opened lips, coming hard, and he doesn't stop pushing into me, even when he loses his rhythm, his hips stuttering forward. Desperate thrusts into my wetness.

"Fuck, gonna cum.”, he whines.

My arms shoot out to grab him, pulling him into me, I just need him closer. Our lips press together as he bends down and I whisper breathlessly into the kiss: "Yes, yes, come inside me, please, fuck."

And he does, his hips pushing forward once more as he spills inside of me, a deep moan dropping from his mouth, and I swallow it up in another kiss. Pressing myself up against him while he comes inside me.

His ragged breaths against my lips, his sweat-slick chest against my pressed-up legs. His dick still deep inside me. Our combined panting fills the room, the soft scent of sex heavy around us. And I don't want to let go, one hand on the back of his neck, feeling the soft strands of his hair, the other stroking over his face, his shoulder, down his side.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, pulls himself out of me and I whimper at the loss of fullness. I just want him back inside me. I feel the wetness drip down, my juices and his cum. Fuck. He really just came inside me. His eyes are fixed on my pussy as his fingers dart out to coast over the soft wet skin.

"Hmm, so fucking pretty.", he drawls, his gaze heated and just a little bit depraved.

His finger strokes up again, through our combined slick, making sure it doesn't further drip down, or onto the soft cushions. He then lifts it to my lips, his pointer and middle finger parting them as he pushes them in. His eyes are intently on my face while I lick his digits, the salty taste on my tongue. Pushing a little deeper until I’m almost gagging, the tattooed letters on his knuckles disappearing into my mouth. My eyes turn up, breaking the eyecontact, and he pulls back.

He lifts me from the cushions, into his arms, and I hold onto him, slumping into his sweaty chest, while my legs wrap around his waist. My head is resting against his shoulder, and I can feel the beat of his heart strumming beneath my fingertips. Strong and steady, but just a little bit too fast.

As he is carrying me towards the stairs leading upstairs, over his shoulder, I see our clothes, strewn over the living room floor, his book and the glass of wine on the endtable. His big hand strokes up my body until it rests on the back of my neck and he murmurs into my hair: "Come, Prinzesserl, gotta get you to bed.". With the way he says it though, I doubt we’ll get much sleep.

next part: going for a walk or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

[octoberautumnbox]

Aquamarine

Soloist Lee Chaeyeon & Male Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Categories/tags: smut, shower, glass, camera/picture, standing sex, standing doggy, creampie, fluffy (at least thats the plan)

a/n: birthday piece for the second half of IZ*ONE'S HoneyWaterz! she gets like one fic a year y'all are missing out. and as usual (lol) no proofread no beta im sorry i know its terrible

The water glistens against her skin, shining as it falls down her back. The city lights seem so far below you like you're in the clouds yourself. The smoke doesn't reach up here, nor the hustle and bustle of the metropolis below. It's only you and her.

Click, click, click. Find her through your camera's lens, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. She turns around and smiles a divine smile at you, and you suspect that she's stopped posing a long while ago; now, she's just glad to find you nearby.

She paddles adorably over to the shallow end of the pool and takes a seat. "Thank you for taking me out like this, babe. I love you so much. Everything is perfect."

She wrings her hair carefully and looks up over the moon, enjoying the cool breeze of tropical air on her face and chest. Click.

"Ugh, stop it," she giggles. "I wasn't ready. Delete that one."

You chuckle and place your camera on a dry, flat surface and join her in the pool. The water is warm between your toes, and you accept the welcome by sitting down in it right next to her.

You try to put your arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs it off cutely. "Don't, you idiot," she scolds lovingly, "I'm all wet."

Sulking away playfully, never mind your lightly damp Hawaiian shirt, you respond. "Wow, calling me an idiot just for trying to love you. I knew it, you've just been using me all this time..."

She laughs her signature laugh, painting the skyline of your heart in vibrant tones of aquamarine. She takes your hand and pulls slowly, bringing your arm around her once more.

"You're gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect." Place a hand on her cheek and bring her gaze over to yours. "How'd I end up with someone as breathtaking as you?"

"Shut up, babe..." she chuckles lightly as she places her hand over yours. "You know I fell for you first."

Close your eyes gently as the gravity of your hearts draw your lips together. You find her halfway through the darkness, but of course you did. When has she ever let you down?

The kiss you share is slow, respectful. You ask for permission from each other wordlessly, giving and taking just a tiny bit more from each other's love with every singular peck.

She breaks the kiss gratefully. As you open your eyes you're met with a goddess, ethereal and alluring. And she's all yours.

Without her forehead leaving yours, she whispers to you, "Let's go inside, babe, I'm getting cold."

~~~

Pull her by her waist into the shower enclosure and take her lips again. She strips you of your Hawaiian shirt, now soaked, and tosses it out of the glass cubicle. Her arm wraps around your neck, while her free hand finds the shower handle.

The showerhead comes to life, and warm water falls onto your back. Chaeyeon slips her fingers under your waistband and pulls down, taking away your last bits of clothing and relieving you of the growing pressure in your shorts.

You do the same, pulling off her dripping wet bikini bottom. Without ever breaking the kiss, she kicks them away and takes your hands onto her plump and firm ass. She moans lightly at your touch, music to your ears.

As much as you want to keep them there, you know there's more you have to do first. Break the kiss for just a moment, and see your girlfriend out of breath.

Grabbing the hem of her top, you pull up. She raises both arms to help you out, knowing that this also gives you the best view of your favorite part.

The wet piece of fabric moves up past her chest, and her beautiful tits bounce free from their containment. You keep pulling until the bikini top clears her head and finally her arms, and then you toss them out of the cubicle and shut the door.

She wraps her arms around your neck again. Grip her ass cheeks and pull her towards you, savoring her firm behind while you force your cock between her thighs.

She moans cutely at the sensation of your head right at the entrance of her heat. You kiss her again, torridly this time, and she returns your affections hungrier, more impatient, less quietly than earlier.

She pulls you even closer, pressing her soft breasts onto your chest, and the feeling could not be more heavenly. You know she's doing this on purpose, and so you respond in kind by giving her a smack on her butt cheek, forcing it to jiggle. As she's groaning into your mouth as a reflex, you leave her at a loss for a more heavenly moment.

Chaeyeon finally frees your lips, and the both of you take a deep breath. You can't get enough, though, and bring her over to the glass pane nearest to you.

"You're so fucking hot..." She traces all over your body with her fingertips. "How do you want me, babe?" she asks courteously.

"You have to smile for the camera, sweetheart." Turn her around to face the glass, and wipe away the steam obstructing her view of outside. She spots your camera sat on a table, facing the pair of you, and she blushes and smirks devilishly as she catches wind of your plan.

"Naughty boy... Hurry up and take me." Chaeyeon bends over and gives you a clear view of her ass, and shows off her pink lower lips for your pleasure.

You make her lean on the glass pane with her forearms as you grab her by the hips. Always the gentleman, you don't keep her waiting. Pull her lips apart, hear her groan at the feeling, and, finally, push your hardened cock into her tight pussy.

"Fuck..." Click. The flash goes off in front of her, and she turns redder in her cheeks. "This is so fucking hot, babe..."

"Happy birthday, baby. You're getting a private photo book of tonight as one of your gifts. Smile your prettiest."

You feel her velvet walls clench lovingly around your cock. It isn't a challenge at all though, with her slick lubricating her insides, to pull out nearly all the way, and force yourself back into her core.

Relish the feeling of fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. Take pride in how she powerlessly surrenders herself to your will. With every thrust deep into her pussy, you show her that she'll only ever belong to you.

"Babe, harder... Please fuck me harder." You comply with her request, as you thrust forward you forcefully pull her back. Her ass meets your pelvis at every pump, producing a symphony of slaps and groans.

Click, click, click. The camera makes its presence felt as flashes fill the other side of the bathroom. Push your goddess of a girlfriend harder against the glass, and she lets out a loud "ahhhh" as her nipples and breasts are squished onto the cold surface.

"Right there, babe, keep fucking me just like that..." Her walls only get tighter as your cock splits her apart. The sounds of her pleasure fill the bathroom as you bring her closer and closer to climax.

"I love you... so... fucking much, babe..." you mutter next to her ear. You can tell she's losing control of herself, she answers only in moans of ecstasy at the rough fucking she's receiving.

Hook her leg under your arm, raise it for the camera. Click, click. The view of her pussy being violated by your cock is crystal clear for the camera to capture. Click. Chaeyeon screams in pleasure as you reach new depths in the lewd position she finds herself in. Click. Her face is smushed against the glass with how hard you're pushing her. Click, click, click. Her nipples grow stiffer against the clear pane, spurring her on and on towards her eventual release.

"Sweetheart, you still good?" She can't answer, you know she can't. Just one look and you can tell she's long gone: her head thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, no regard for whatever she might be saying anymore.

Figure she's had enough. Conclude her long day with a bang. Give her a high note to end a perfect celebration. Better yet, make her sing the high note herself.

You grow more ravenous with your hold on her. "You know... One of your gifts... a whole photo book... of just tonight." Click. You thrust into her sex more roughly, chasing your high as you force her to reach hers. She can't defy you, and you know she won't. She's yours.

Her climax comes to her like an earth-splitting bolt of lightning. All at once, a guttural scream rips through her throat, click, streaks of her cum spray onto the glass she's pressed against, click, she stumbles as her legs give out underneath her, click, click, and her walls grip you in a desperate attempt to prolong her unholy pleasure as much as she can, click.

"I'm cumming, baby... Happy birthday--!!!" With a deep groan you shoot your cum into her womb, making sure every spurt stays in and takes. Her walls apply a heavenly amount of pressure on your cock, milking you for more, and you give her exactly what she wants. With every spurt of your hot cum into her abused snatch Chaeyeon screams louder yet, click, begging in gibberish for something she herself doesn't even know anymore.

You realize she's full up when your cum overflows from her pussy and down her thigh. She's taking heavy breaths now, and your wits are slipping away from you.

~~~

You find yourself sat on the cold tiled floor of the shower. Warm water still falls from the showerhead and onto the pair of you. Chaeyeon is taking her sweet time filling her lungs with air and steadying her breathing. Her head's leaned onto your shoulder, so you push her hair aside to give her a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart. You might not have heard me earlier, but happy birthday."

She can only respond in deep breaths and scratchy hums. She brings her lips back over to yours, last kiss before getting dressed for bed. And you know that meant "I love you too."

a/n: yknow i should just stop planning fics at this point lmao. anyways, happy birthday our feather chaeyeon!!!

[ltash]

Tease

When you first arrived at the SAS, you didn’t exactly fit in. Sure, you were good at your job, more than good, actually. You were sharp, skilled, and capable of holding your own in any training scenario. But there was one thing that set you apart from everyone else: you were funny. Mischievous, witty, and always up to something.

Most of the recruits on base were a bit too serious for your taste, but it didn’t take long for you to find your crowd. Gaz and Soap, always down for a good laugh, quickly became your partners in crime. They loved watching you stir the pot, especially when it came to Ghost. Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley had quickly become your favorite target.

Ghost was the complete opposite of you, stoic, silent, and intimidating. He didn’t joke, he didn’t laugh, and most of all, he didn’t like being the center of attention. Which, of course, made him the perfect person to mess with.

It started innocently enough, with small pranks here and there. You’d hide his gloves, switch his ammo with blanks, or throw in the occasional sarcastic comment. At first, Ghost ignored you, figuring you’d tire yourself out eventually. But you didn’t. You kept going, pushing his buttons little by little.

It was a lazy afternoon on base, and you were bored. Ghost sat at a table in the common area, going over some paperwork. You noticed he had a bag of chips by his side, casually snacking between signing documents. That’s when the idea struck you.

You’d ordered a special chip online, a chip so spicy, it came with a warning label. This wasn’t your average hot chip. This was the hot chip, the kind designed to make grown men cry. You slipped it out of your pocket and swapped it with one of the regular chips in Ghost’s bag while his back was turned.

Soap, who had been lounging nearby, noticed your devious grin and immediately perked up. “What are you up to now?”

You gave him a wink. “Just wait. You’re going to want to see this.”

Soap didn’t need any more convincing. He and Gaz both settled in nearby, watching the scene unfold like a couple of kids waiting for fireworks.

Ghost returned to his seat, oblivious to what you’d done. He resumed his paperwork, absentmindedly reaching for the chips. You held your breath, watching with barely contained excitement as his hand dug into the bag.

And then it happened.

Ghost picked up the chip, the one that was designed to feel like molten lava in your mouth, and casually tossed it into his mouth. For a second, everything seemed normal. He chewed, swallowed, and kept writing.

But then, you saw it.

The slow burn started to creep up his neck, his face barely visible under the mask. His hand froze mid-signature, and you could almost see the moment when the heat hit him. His eyes widened slightly, the only outward sign that something was wrong. But you knew. Oh, you knew.

Soap and Gaz were already covering their mouths, trying not to burst into laughter as Ghost’s hand slowly reached for his water bottle. He took a swig, but it didn’t help. You could see the redness creeping up his neck, his posture stiffening as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Something wrong, Lieutenant?” you called out, barely able to suppress your grin.

Ghost’s eyes snapped to you, and for a second, you thought you might have pushed it too far. His gaze was murderous, dark and furious beneath that mask. But he didn’t say a word. He just stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he stormed off toward the kitchen.

As soon as he was out of sight, Soap and Gaz exploded with laughter. Soap slapped the table, practically wheezing. “That was brilliant! I’ve never seen him move that fast!”

“I told you it’d be good,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “He’s never going to let this one go.”

“You do realize he’s going to get you back for this, right?” Gaz said, still chuckling.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m not scared of Ghost. What’s he going to do? Glare at me harder?”

Soap shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

But even as you laughed, a small part of you wondered if you’d really gone too far. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to let things slide. And you were right.

But you weren't done with him yet.

Ghost had been quiet since the hot chip prank, too quiet. He hadn’t said anything to you about it, hadn’t even acknowledged it happened. That should’ve been your first warning. But instead of being cautious, you doubled down.

You were walking across the base one day when you spotted a cockroach scurrying along the ground. An idea sparked instantly.

Without hesitation, you scooped up the wriggling bug and made a beeline for Ghost, who was at the training field. Soap and Gaz were hanging out nearby, and when they saw the look on your face, they knew something was about to go down.

“Oi, Trouble,” Soap called out, smirking. “What’ve you got there?”

You held up the cockroach proudly. “My new friend. I’m gonna introduce him to Ghost.”

Gaz shook his head, laughing. “You’re mad."

You scooped up the wriggling insect and made your way over to the field where Ghost was practising.

He didn’t notice you at first, he was too focused on reloading his weapon and prepping for his next drill. But that made it even better.

The element of surprise was on your side.

“Ghost!” you called, running toward him with the cockroach clutched in your hand.He glanced up, and for a split second, you swore his eyes narrowed behind that mask. It was like he could sense that you were up to no good.

“What?” he grunted, lowering his weapon.

You didn’t answer. you just kept running toward him, waving the cockroach in your hand like a trophy.

When you were close enough, you shoved your hand forward.

“Look what I found!”

Ghost took one look at the cockroach and stepped back, his broad form tensing.

“You better put that thing down.”

You blinked, surprised by his reaction. Was Ghost… afraid of bugs? No way.A wicked grin spread across your face.

“Aw, is the big, bad Ghost scared of a little cockroach?”

“Last warning,” he said, his voice dark and low, though you detected a hint of urgency. But instead of backing off, you doubled down.

“C’mon, it’s harmless!” you said, stepping closer and waving the bug in his direction.

Ghost took another step back, visibly uncomfortable now, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside you.

You’d never seen him like this. This was a man who could take down an enemy with his bare hands, yet here he was, backing away from a tiny insect.That’s when he turned and started walking away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you laughed, breaking into a full sprint after him.What followed was a spectacle that had the entire base watching.

You chased Ghost all the way across the training field, waving the cockroach like a madwoman while he picked up the pace.

You could hear snickers and laughter from nearby soldiers as they watched the ridiculous chase unfold.

Ghost was practically power-walking now, trying to maintain his composure, but you kept pushing.

“Don’t be scared, it’s just a bug!”

“I swear to God,” Ghost growled, picking up speed, “if you don’t stop..”

But you didn’t stop. In fact, you doubled down, practically sprinting after him as you waved the cockroach over your head.

“Come on, Ghost, it’s not gonna hurt you!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ghost managed to slip away into the locker room, leaving you behind, still laughing and clutching your sides.

But as you stood there, catching your breath, you didn’t notice the way Ghost’s eyes darkened behind the mask. You didn’t notice how Soap, who had watched the whole thing, gave him a nudge and a wicked grin.

For the next few days, you continued your usual antics. You were on top of the world, convinced that you had finally broken Ghost’s stone-cold exterior.

You expected retaliation at some point, but it never came. Ghost was quiet—too quiet. And if you had been paying attention, you might’ve realized that he wasn’t just ignoring you.

He was planning.

It was Soap who sealed your fate.“You really think Ghost’s gonna let that cockroach thing slide?”

Soap had asked one afternoon, leaning against a crate in the common area.

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think he’s too scared to come after me.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s what you think, huh?”

You didn’t know it at the time, but Soap had already joined forces with Ghost. They were just waiting for the right moment.

It wasn’t until a week later that you realized just how wrong you were.

The day it happened was like any other. You had finished a long day of training and were looking forward to kicking back in your room for a while.

Your backpack was sitting neatly on your bed, right where you’d left it.But the moment you unzipped the bag, something moved.

You froze.

Slowly, cautiously, you opened the bag a little wider, and that’s when you saw it.

Bugs. So many bugs. Spiders, cockroaches, beetles, all squirming and crawling over each other inside your bag.

Your heart leapt into your throat, and before you knew what was happening, a scream ripped from your lungs.

“Holy sh—” You stumbled backward, dropping the bag as you frantically tried to shake off the sensation that the bugs were crawling all over you.

Outside your room, you heard footsteps and then, laughter. Deep, booming laughter.

Ghost’s laughter. You whipped around just in time to see Ghost and Soap standing in your doorway, both of them grinning behind their masks.

Soap was practically doubled over with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes, while Ghost simply stood there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Soap gasped between fits of laughter.

You glared at them both, still shaken by the sight of the bugs.

“You put bugs in my bag?!”

Ghost gave a slow, satisfied nod.“Consider it payback.”

“For what?!” you exclaimed, though you knew exactly what.

“For the cockroach,” Ghost said simply. “And the chip. And every other stupid thing you’ve done.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you tried to collect yourself. “That was disgusting.”

Ghost’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a step closer, leaning down just enough to be at eye level with you. “Next time, Trouble, think twice before messing with me.”

You stared up at him, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“This isn’t over, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice low and threatening in a way that sent a chill down your spine.

Soap gave you a final wink before the two of them turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your bug-infested backpack and the knowledge that, for once, Ghost had won this round.

But you weren’t about to let that stand for long.

Not by a long shot.

[montimer]

Please please if you could..can you make

self aware!Deadpool x gn!reader that got suddenly transferred to the marvel universe?

Like the reader is trying to survive while Deadpool just knows this specific person has a crush on him or.. something else? Your choice!

>insert this anime girl gif as a signature

Mhm sure sounds good! Hope i did good

Self aware!Deadpool x reader who got transferred to marvel universe

Gn!reader

You've been a big fan of him since a long time. You could say you even had a lil crush on him. Smiling so widely whenever hes on screen. Excitedly reading his comic books and buying other merch. Drawing him, perhaps even writing fanfiction.

One day your phone started glowing and you panicked that this old piece of crap is gonna explode or something. Turns out it did not blow up instead when the bright light that made you almost blind stopped, you were in a complete different place. It looked like you were in a middle of a street.

Never been here before, what just happened? And what is that noise? Sounds like someones getting hit, no-shot?

You shaked ur phone trying to do the same affect but stopped as you heard someone coming closer.

"Hmm, whats this? My chimichanga senses are tingling" you turned around upon hearing the familiar voice. There not too far standed deadpool himself. You would be happy if you weren't to notice the dead body as you looked down to his legs.

"Oh uh, don't worry about that. He was a bad guy anyways ya know? Plus as long as you aren't one of those guys, which you don't seem to look like then you'll be fine!" He tried reassuring you. You just stared at him. He squished his eyes into a smile, you seem so adorable when you are surprised.

"Anyways mission completed! And i need my money to take this hot stuff one a hot date!" You still quietly standed there, confused. Is he still talking to you or to himself?

He came up close and you tried your best not to sound too nervous.

"W-wait, before you go can you tell me where am i and how do i get home? I mean my phone flashed and now im here i-" he put a finger to your mouth "shhh, calm down sweets, talk slow" you shut down from this, it made your face feel a bit warm

"I know you aren't from around here. You are a lovely fan of mine!" his eyes turned into hearts and he put his hands together with one of his legs up in the air.

Oh right, he is very much aware. That is rather embarrassing..but wait

"How do you know that?"

"Oh you know when you look at me on tv i kind of look back. And if you want more juicy details then you better accept my invite to this great restaurant that i found!"

He sounds like as if he knew you were gonna transport here..oh well its better to stay with him then all alone for now. Maybe he can help? You don't mind that much anyway

"Fine fine, i'll go if you promise to help okay?" He nodded happily, took your hand and dragged you with him.

Then he quickly grabbed the dead body by the arm and started dragging that too.

"Wha-" "I gotta show evidence that i did the job. I have to get paid first to actually take you out. We'll be quick"

Now holding hands with him you just walked where he did hoping this to be over soon. He did not shut up on his way and he definitely won't keep quiet any time soon either. Stuck with him you accept your fate (secretly you very much enjoy this)

Should i make part too cuz this got a lil too long? Or just a shorter ver explaining more

[hisokamywaifu]

Kinktober Day 23 - CAMBOY with Tomura Shigaraki

Dom!reader x sub!shigaraki

~~~

The start is kinda crappy but then it gets good >:)

As you collapsed on your bed in the LOV hq, you took out your computer, knowing that tonight, Shigaraki would be streaming.

You had stumbled upon his secret streams a couple months ago, and you immediately knew who it was, even though he made sure to wear a mask each time.

And, of course, he had no idea you knew.

Since you had found out, you had made sure to be the main viewer he noticed, making little donations and sometimes, he would let you and a couple other viewers determine when he came.

While you couldn't wait to tease him about it, you had kept everything a secret from him, and you quite enjoyed his videos.

He would stream every Tuesday night, and you always got excited for those times, against your better judgement.

Today, as it started and he came into view, wearing slutty women's lingerie, he looked delectable, and you got yourself comfy to watch him.

Some days he would ride a dildo, somedays he would use vibrators, but today, he didn't have anything.

After a moment, his scratchy voice piped up. "Today, I'll let you guys decide what I should do. Any suggestions?"

As people started writing furiously in the chat with requests for pegging, or overstimulation with vibrators, you sent your specific request with a donation.

Hump a pillow for me, pretty boy.

You knew he saw it when he gulped. "I guess I'll be...humping a pillow today."

You almost giggled at how awkward he sounded, but your gaze fixed in when he tentitively grabbed a pillow.

His signature gloved hands pulled the pillow to him, and he slowly straddled it, seemingly hoping someone would make him do something else instead.

But everyone was fixed in, and he faltered for a moment before hesitantly grinding his hips along the soft fabric.

Letting out a soft 'hah', he started picking up the pace, precum already getting onto the pillow and staining the fabric.

Shigaraki seemed frustrated, like he couldn't get the exact pleasure he wanted. As he tried thrusting at different angles, he let out pants, trying desperately to feel good.

Grind nice and deep for me, you're so desperate, aren't you?

He glaced up to see what you wrote, and let out a wanton moan, nodding his head vigorously.

He made sure to thrust deeper, wringing out extra pleasure with each movement.

With the sluttiness of the act and all of the eyes upon him, he got close very soon, and moans and whimpers poured out of him.

"Can I~ please, can I cum?" His desperate voice was making you feel feral, but you wanted to see him suffer more.

Don't cum just yet. We're gonna have some fun with you.

"Fuck, no~please! I've been good, I have to~ hng"

He had to slow down in order to obey, but the despair on his face was clear as he edged himself.

Good boy. Rub those nipples for me, yeah?

"I, ah, I don't~"

He tried to protest, but it was weak, and his hands drifted up.

Hips still roving on the pillow, which had wet patches from all the leaking precum, he twisted his nipples, making them nice and puffy.

Speed up. Put on a good show and I'll let you cum.

He sped up greatly at the thought of cumming, everything was built up in him and he needed to release, but he knew he had to do what you said.

He was groaning, the delicious friction of the pillow was barely the amount he needed, and his hands on his nipples were teasing him as he built himself back up at a snails pace.

He arched his back for you, a little bit of drool slipping out of the mask, and he looked for permission, tears pooling in his eyes.

Cum for me, slut.

With a sharp cry, he let go, spoiling the pillow with his large amount of cum, still thrusting slightly to ride out his orgasm.

Once he had comd down slightly, he chanted 'thank you thank you thank you', and smiled lazily, ending the stream.

After a moment of lying there, he was about to get up to clean himself up when he heard your voice in the hallway.

"Shigarakiiiiii," you sang.

Eyes widening slightly, he focused on making his voice sound normal. "Go away. I'm busy."

You leaned next to the closed door to his room with a smirk on your face. "Yeah, busy being a whore."

Fear shot through him, but he reasoned with himself, it was probably a coincidence, you were probably just guessing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bringing your lips to the crack of the door, you made your voice extra playful. "Suuure you don't. Who do you think told you to hump that pillow? Now be a good boy and let me in."

Fuck. Shigaraki was screwed.

~~~~~~~~~

Kinktober Masterlist Link

[hinakazino]

Tobi’s Sister? || Akatsuki w/ child!reader

Summary: You’re tobi’s sister, that’s it. You may also be the one the Akatsuki love most.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of angst.

Inspired by this piece: uchihas w/ sister!reader.

You were the last Uchiha ever born, as in you were born a little over a year before the Uchiha Clan Massacre. Obito had known about your presence as it was no secret when a new member was arriving.

Although it was traditional to keep quiet about it until around the 2nd semester out of worry for stressing out the mother. He still found out anyway, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Your arrival was a heartwarming moment. Your mother was very happy for you filled up her heart. Her heart which was dull, was now filled with hope, from the previous loss of her son, him.

It was unfortunate then, that not long after having you that she had gone. That the whole clan had gone, except for you and Sasuke. Obito had debated on your worth but ultimately he chose to keep you and Madara didn't seem to be against it.

Madara himself hearing that he had a little sister had simply said that "we should at least leave out some hope for our clan". So, on the night of the Uchiha massacre you were taken to a secret location, death faked.

From that point on, Obito had raised you on his own and he soon found that you were his love. You were so sweet and adorable, he didn't want anything happening to you. When you came he swore no feelings towards you, yet now you are his weakness.

It wasn't like Obito hid his face from you either, but he knew that he had to keep his plan foolproof so he never told you his real name, sticking to Tobi/big brother. He'd save that revelation for when you were much older.

By the age of 3, you were a healthy toddler who was energetic and intelligent. You picked up things quicker than others, such as walking and talking. Although you weren't a professional you could communicate what you wanted. It was at this age that Obito introduced you to the Akatsuki. Most of the members were surprised by this. Not really by the point that Tobi had this child with him who he had a brotherly relationship with, but more so the point that Pain actually allowed you into the organization.

By the age of 4 you had gotten used to your environment, you were an energetic child. Tobi was personally worried about how the Akatsuki would treat you but nothing bad came out of it. You were given all you needed and treated with the utmost respect.

It was honestly laughable, how the akatsuki. The most powerful criminal organization, dawned in their signature black, red cloud cloaks had this small child. In her small puffy dress running around.

The truth was that not all of the akatsuki knew you personally, they knew you exist but not all have met you. It was decided that you'd be with the main group.

Pain was at a loss of words, truly, when you were introduced into the equation. He knew right away that you were definitely an uchiha and that you had quite a strong bond with Tobi (for him, "Madara").

But it seemed that out of all things Tobi sincerely meant everything he said about you. He had even cited how Pain and Konan wanted to create a place where children could be happy, "a place I hope she'll be," he said while cradling your sleeping form.

So, Pain ultimately did let you in but not without stating his own terms. Handling a child was not at all easy and if you were to stay with them. You should at least be trained to an extent where you were useful.

After all, the organization doesn’t want any people who’d slow them down. At least, that was the original reason, deep down Pain did feel the need to protect you.

Ultimately a plan was devised, they’d take care of you, teach you, and train you. The more difficult things could be dealt with later on. So, a teaching plan was developed for you when you became apart of the Akatsuki.

Kakuzu had known of your arrival long before any of the other members. As previously Pain had consulted him on this as part of the budget would be put towards taking care of you. This, greatly annoyed Kakuzu.

Kakuzu didn't understand why Pain even cared about you to this extent. He saw this as wasted money, baby formula and diapers weren't cheap. But thankfully, he didn't have to worry about that because by the time you were established as a member you didn't need that anymore.

He eventually didn't mind you at all as you weren't that big of an annoyance. You weren't that interested in him at first. Eventually though due to Pains plan Kakuzu would have to teach you mathematics.

A class, which, to your dismay and Kakuzu's you disliked. Nonetheless he was at least grateful you absorbed knowledge and was quite shocked whenever you'd join into his money-speaking conversations with Hidan.

Hidan was one of the most shocked members, "oh I wonder how strong she is!" he had said. Then when your small form peaked out from behind Tobi, Konan had to reminded him that you were just a child.

Hidan got along with you easily though, and it was no secret the rest of the members enjoyed the "tea parties" you'd host with him and Deidara. Hidan greatly enjoyed your innocence to the world.

Especially your reaction to new things. He remembers laughing so hard when he had you try french fries for the first time, or when you'd seen a shooting star for the first time. He made sure of course, to tell you to make a wish. He really enjoyed your company.

Despite this, Hidan wasn't given an educational role but more so a babysitter rule. It wasn't ideal but he was like a guard for you, since he enjoyed your company he was tasked with keeping an eye on you most of the time.

Deidara reacted exactly like Hidan had, he didn't expect you to be a kid though honestly! When he first saw you he honestly thought you were quite cute. You were so chubby and soft, he loved whenever he'd come back from a long mission. You'd run and hug him!

It was even better when Hidan and him would compete for who you'd hug first. However most of the time you wouldn't choose or just run to Konan instead.

Deidara, unlike Hidan, although being assigned to watch over you partly also was your art teacher. Deidara was not allowed to use explosions at all with you, this was strictly forbidden by Pain and more so by Tobi. Not like he would though after seeing how easily you could get injured. You had merely fell but it'd left you with two bleeding knees that healed fast thankfully since you were still young, but had scared you for awhile. It hurt Deidara to witness that, who would enjoy that anyway?

He mainly just has you make sculptures with him, and it isn't like he hates doing other things besides sculptures. So besides his tendency to destroy things in "the name of art" he really doesn't do that with you also because you had cried once. That was when he realized you were more of a collection person.

Sasori hadn’t given any reaction at all when you’d arrived. He saw it like this, as long as you didn’t disturb him he wouldn’t you. However, it seems like Pain had other plans.

As you technically had to be taught besides being taken care of. It turns out that Sasori had been chosen to be your science teacher. He wasn’t particularly fond of this idea as a child such as you seemed quite dumb, no?

Well he was wrong about you being dumb because you were quite intelligent for your age, but not obedient. Sasori was a man who’d get the job done though so he found a way around your constant moving. It didn't take a genius to figure out kids were active.

He was actually starting to enjoy teaching you then, as you were always excited when he said he had something new for you. You absorbed knowledge from him and always praised him. This stroked his ego a lot.

He was especially impressed at your reaction to his puppets. You’d let out the loudest squeal he’d ever heard and hadn’t even realized it was a puppet. You reminded him of when he was young, and it made him get closer to you.

Itachi had just accepted your presence, although your age shocked him a bit. He was technically considered young himself when he had joined the Akatsuki, and besides he'd seen much worse.

At first, he didn't know how to interact with you but introductions were said and done with Pain's assignment for him. Itachi was to be your actual babysitter, he got you ready for meals, helped dress you, and more.

Pain knew out of everyone here Itachi was kind with kids and knew how to be responsible. Which is why Itachi is your Nanny, always reminding you of naps, rest, and shower time.

It was a bit debated whether it would be Konan or Itachi but Konan was normally rather busy and Itachi had swore to Tobi no harm would come to you. He wasn't one to break promises either. Itachi tried to not become attached to you emotionally but clearly failed. He didn't want to lose another person, or worst comes to worst, be the one to take out that said person. He wasn't an idiot, he knew you were an Uchiha from the moment he laid eyes on you. It was the most shocking of all in your first meeting. He couldn't help feeling grateful in the end however, to know that at least one person was spared from the massacre. This was soon combined with a feeling of guilt though as he knew you were entangled in much more now, he vowed he'd protect you if he could, just like Sasuke.

Eventually, you had come to love Itachi just like a brother, he gave you a sense of familiarity and was super gentle. The same could be said for Itachi, who now saw Sasuke in you.

Kisame was quite amused when you'd joined the Akatsuki. Wouldn't it be rather fun for people to hear of this? Well, either way he thought you'd be scared of him on your first meeting.

Turns out you weren't in the least, you were really curious about him too. When you'd first met your hands had touched his face all over, but what made you love him the most was how high he could lift you.

This was when Kisame first learned just how much kids loved to be tossed around (gently) and he always made sure to lower his strength around you. He actually was quite entertained with you, not as bored as he’d thought.

He was assigned to be your swim teacher, expected really. He began teaching you right away and quickly caught onto your fear of the deep water. Not to fear though because Tobi was there watching your first couple lessons and Kisame controlled the waters to prevent any harm.

He did his best to make the waters seem calm and fun. Whenever he could he’d take you to the beach or a lake. Sometimes Itachi would even tag along with you two as he watched Kisame swim out with you.

Kisame felt proud knowing you were learning quickly. He had bragged about it once to Hidan and Deidara too. They had called him soft towards you but it wasn’t necessarily a lie.

Konan lastly, was your Language/Biology teacher, she came around more often after you came into the equation. You were so adorable in her eyes and she loved whenever you’d run into her arms.

Konan loved your squishy chubby cheeks, most of all your cute voice when you called her name. She was assigned as your biology teacher for obvious reasons. Although this is a more later role she would help you through puberty and such.

She was also your language teacher, helping you learn the characters and to read. Enjoying the fun moment she’d have with you on her lap reading along. You were a kind presence in her world, a reminder of what she hopes to work towards.

Konan is happy to take care of you and you view her much like an older sister. She teaches you so much, and is a very encouraging person. Helping you gain new experiences and also protecting you as much as she can.

© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[morganwrites12672]

1999 - Seventeen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Working with the Winchester's to solve a case brings up old, unresolved feelings.

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: Blood. Canon typical violence. Dean being an absolute menace. Minor injury. A tiny bit of kissing.

A/N: This is the longest part yet! I hope you enjoy it! Also, you can read this without reading the rest of the series here: 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

The old library computers were slow as hell. She passively sorted through the archives of newspapers from this town. She had begged her father to let her go out and do anything else, maybe even try and get some of the witnesses to talk, but he hadn't let her. No, he had made her go to the library.

Spending the entire day the library hadn't been something she wanted to do. Even if on any normal day she would be ecstatic. The library was a magical place to her, most of the time. Definitely not right now.

She has spent hours sitting in this stupid, uncomfortable chair. She had found nothing. Whatever spirit was killing people was well hidden in the records. No strange deaths had occured at the hotel where people had started dying in extremely. . . odd ways.

All of the victims had been stabbed to death while they slept. And, the people were all so different. Different ages, races, home towns, etc. So far, she hadn't been able to find a connection between the victims. Neither had Sam.

She pauses her search for a moment and looked over her shoulder. Dean was flipping through a more recent newspaper while sitting at one of the small tables. His feet were propped up on the table, he was leaning back in his chair.

She snapped her gaze back to the ancient computer in front of her. She still had a lot of work to do. She peeked over at Sam's screen. He hadn't found anything either.

"Anything?" She asked quietly, even though she already knew what the answer was.

Sam sighed and looked away from the computer screen glowing in front of him. "This is stupid! There has to be something," Sam said with a huff.

But, there wasn't. Not yet at least. She nodded and went back to scrolling through the archives. After several dozen key word searches (and another hour), she found something. She sat up straighter in her seat as she skimmed through the article. A woman who had been murdered while she slept, at the hotel. It looked like the hotel had tried getting this article buried.

She was about to say something, but she heard Dean's chair scrape across the floor. She didn't have to look back to see what he was doing. She could feel him hovering over her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat at the proximity. She hadn't been this close to Dean since the apple orchard.

"Finally," Dean's deep, velvety voice murmured into her ear. "It only took you all night."

She abruptly turned around in her chair. Who was he to criticize how long it had taken her to finally find something? This had been a difficult case so far. She had been the one to finally find something, not Dean, Sam, her father, or John.

"You were supposed to be helping!" She snapped at Dean. She heard the sound of Sam shuffling in his seat and looked over. Sam had his backpack alung across his shoulder. He walked over to the table, escaping the argument.

Sam's reaction made her feel bad. She was about to say something to the younger Winchester brother whenever Dean opened his stupid mouth again.

"You and Sam are the eggheads," He said. Dean had his signature cocky smirk plastered on his face. His favorite thing in the world seemed to be pissing her off. There was nothing he loved more than seeing her like this, well that or pinning her against an apple tree.

She rolled her eyes as she began writing down the main details of the article she had found. She quickly pressed the 'print' button afterwards. She then gathered her things from the small surface area of the desk she had been working at. She was tired of dealing with Dean. There was no in-between with him. They were either all over each other or arguing.

Dean fumbled for words as he watched her leave. He watched as she stood by the large, noisy printer and waited on the documents she needed to finish printing. He hadn't been expecting that. Usually he would piss her off until she gave in and kissed him.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, crossing the room in a few strides.

She sighed in annoyance as she yanked the freshly printed pages off the tray. She wasn't in the mood to exchange a few insults and snarky remarks with Dean. She was tired and anxious. This was one of the few hunts her father allowed her to come on. It was a recent thing too. Bobby was strict about letting her tag along, even if she was useful.

"Back to the motel."

"How?" Dean asked. "I drove you and Sammy here."

She looked back at him, "I'm walking back."

Her words made a brief sense of panic seize Dean's chest. The thought of her walking back to the hotel, alone, and in the middle of the night made his blood run cold. Maybe he needed to stop being such a dick for a few minutes.

"No, I'll just drive you."

"No," She snapped. She didn't want to spend fifteen minutes in a car with him right now. However, the long walk back to the hotel didn't sound all that appealing. She didn't say that to Dean.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "No- wait." He let out a huff. "Just let me drive you. Your dad will shoot me for letting you walk home in the middle of the night." Dean used Bobby as an excuse for a reason to drive her home. He didn't want to have a rom-com moment with her in front of Sam.

She begrudgingly agreed with a sigh.

While she had been arguing with Dean, Sam has finished packing everything else up. He was ready to get back to the hotel. Listening to the bickering of his brother and the girl his brother liked was annoying as hell whenever he was this tired. Normally he didn't mind it that much. It was obvious that the two idiots liked each other.

The drive back to the hotel felt like it was hours long. The soft hum of rock filled the car. Anytime she had tried changing the music in the last when driving with Dean, the older Winchester always replied with the same exact words; "Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts their cakehole."

Once they finally arrived at the hotel, she practically jumped out of the car. She clutched the printed article in her hands as she walked through the parking lot. If her father was back yet then she could give him the information.

She had figured out almost everything they needed. She hadn't figured out where the body was buried though. It has been too late, she would leave that part up to her father. Bobby could probably dig it up in a measly hour. He was incredible at figuring things out quickly.

Whenever she finally made it to the hotels elevator, Dean and Sam had caught up with her. She wasn't surprised that Sam had. He was all long legs and wobbly steps. He reminded her of a baby deer sometimes.

She pressed the button for the floor before Dean could get to it. It wasn't often that she stayed at hotels when her father was off hunting. Motels were much cheaper, and that was were they always ended up. Getting to work a case at a hotel was like a vacation. Even if she felt out of place here.

The elevator came to a stop and she practically leaped out. She needed to get the papers to her father as soon as possible. She finally arrived at the room her father was staying in and knocked. Bobby and John had decided to stick the kids in one room together for this hunt, so she didn't have a key to her father's room.

"What do you Idjits want? It's two in the goddamn morning," Bobby grumbled. Seeing his daughter and the Winchester boys at the door to his room in the middle of the night was not pleasant. He was glad that he was the one who got up and not John.

"I think I figured out who the spirit is."

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

It had only taken Bobby an hour to figure out where the woman was buried. While Bobby had been doing that, John had discovered the pattern between the victims. They all shared the same birthday, different years but the same month and day. Further investigation revealed that the woman who had been murdered also shared that birthday.

It didn't take her long to hack into the hotels records. She quickly found someone, the last someone, who matched the description.

The group was split up. Sam going with Bobby to salt and burn the bones, and she was with Dean and John to prevent the spirit from killing anyone else at the hotel. Bobby had argued like it was his last day on Earth for his daughter to take the safer route and go with him. Eventually, John had gotten Bobby to let her stay at the hotel.

She stood outside the soon to be victims door alone. John was handling something else, she had no clue what. And, Dean was gathering up iron weapons from the trunk of the Impala. She only had a rock salt shot gun and practically useless iron switch blade. She knocked on the door. It wouldn't get an less nerve wracking. She adjusted how the duffel bag crammed with bags of salt rested on her shoulder. It was heavy, twenty pounds of salt tended to be like that.

"Wrong room kid," A woman said as she opened the door.

"No, this isn't. This is going to sound insane, but I need you to trust me. Uh, there's been an issue with the pipes," She blurted out. She needed to get the woman to leave. Now.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Damn kids," she muttered and began closing the door. She thought that this girl was just trying to mess with her, completely oblivious to the serious threat to her life.

She mumbled a curse before sticking her foot in the door. The woman looked at her in shock. Before she could explain anything, or come up with some bullshit excuse, the lights began flickering. The usually warm hallways temperature seemed to drop them degrees in mere seconds. A chill ran down her spine.

Shit.

The spirit was already here. She wouldn't be able to get the woman out safely. She knew that her plan had been incredibly unrealistic to begin with. Things never went according to plan in this lifestyle. It just didn't happen.

"W-what the hell?" The woman said with a gasp.

"Move," She muttered to the woman and shoved last her into the hotel room. She dropped her bag and grabbed one of the salt bags. She quickly formed a circle. "Stand in it."

"You're fucking insane!" The woman shrieked and turned to leave. That was whenever she saw it.

The spirit knew what was happening. She wouldn't stand by idly while her bones were burned. The spirit let out a horrible wail, her ripped and bloodied dress flowing behind her, as she charged for the woman.

The kickback of the rifle left an ache in her shoulder as she shot the spirit. It screeched even louder before disappearing. She knew that this wouldn't last long. She quickly touched up the circle of salt.

"Oh my God! Oh my-"

"Get in the damn circle!"

The woman quickly jumped into the circle. She was clueless on what was happening. This was supposed to have been a nice little vacation, not a night of hell!

"What's your name?" She asked the scared woman in a softer voice even if she already knew the answer. She didn't want to freak the woman out anymore.

"S-Stacy. Stacy Jean," She stuttered out.

Stacy was wide eyed as she stood in the salt circle. She stared at the girl who had shot the ghost. It was weird as hell to her that someone so young was capable of so much.

"W-what was that thing?" Stacy asked.

She reloaded the rock salt shot gun before answering Stacy's question. There was no easy way to do this. Stacy had seen the spirit. She wouldn't be able to lie to the woman. It was better to come clean about what was going on.

"It's a vengeful Spirit," She said to Stacy.

Before either one of the two woman could say anything else, Dean burst through the door. He looked like he had ran straight here. Finally. Dealing with a pissed off ghost on her own had been unpleasant.

Stacy was in too much shock to do or say anything else. The woman simply stood in the circle, body trembling from fear.

She sighed, quickly reaching for the duffle bag that Dean had brought with him. She hoped that he had brought something useful.

"Took you long enough," She said under her breath as she sifted through the contents of the bag. She took the iron blade out and watched the way the dim lighting of the hotel room was reflected.

"I-" Dean's words were cut off as the lights began flickering again. "Shit!" The spirit reappeared after a couple of seconds, ready for a fight.

There wasn't any time to try shooting at it. She lunged with the blade. Before she could actually stab the spirit, the spirits blade nicked her arm. She hissed in pain before swinging her iron blade. The spirit let out a horrible shriek before vanishing again.

Everything had happened so fast. The seconds had blurred by. The only thing that grounded her back to the present moment was Dean's hand pressing against the small wound on her arm. His brows were knit together as he assessed her injury.

Something that closely resembled panic covered the features of his face. He moved his hand away, his fingers coming off covered in blood. Covered in her blood.

She was frozen in place as Dean darted across the room to get to the duffel bag he had brought. He quickly found the item he had been looking for, a small roll of bandages. He tore off a piece and approached her.

"This is gonna hurt," He said in an oddly gentle voice as he wrapped the bandage around her arm.

A whimper escaped past her lips whenever he tightened the bandage. It made tears sting her eyes. She swallowed thickly, trying to think about anything else.

Dean's jaw had clenched sometime since she had been injured. Her injury pained him almost as much as it did her. Every single time she'd draw in a sharp breath, or he'd catch the slight wobble in her lips, his heart broke. It felt like someone had ripped his chest open.

"There you go," Dean said, thankful that he was finally done. Her wound would still need to be cleaned out and properly bandaged later. This was just for until the Spirit was handled.

"T-thanks," She replied before clearing her throat. Her left arm now ached. It was more inconvenient than anything. She just wasn't used to having injuries like this. Her father rarely let her do anything that might result in one.

She held her iron blade, ready to take a shot at the spirit whenever she would reappear. Hopefully Bobby and Sam were able to find her bones, and quickly. She was buried out back, or at least that's what the article said. The small graveyard shouldn't be that hard to find.

"Why don't you go stand in the circle?" Dean asked her.

"Dean, I can-"

"I'll do it too."

She rolled her eyes but agreed. It was a bit of a tight fit. She stood in the circle with Dean and Stacy. The poor woman still looked completely terrified. Not that anyone could blame her. Finding out about the Supernatural was a horrible experience. Even more so whenever someone finds out while something's trying to kill them.

She shivered as the temperature of the room dropped even more. An invisible forced blew through the room, the curtains billowing in the guest of air. The salt circle had been blown apart and was now useless. Dean took a step to the side, positioning himself between where she stood and where he thought the source of the ominous puff of air had come from.

The spirit flickered into view looking just as pissed as she always was. Her anger radiated around her, leaving a sense of dread inside of everyone who occupied the room.

The spirits dress was covered in blood. The delicate material was also covered in rips. Looking at her, it was obvious what had happened. The pale and graying skin of the spirit seemed to almost glow in the moonlight that had coated the room after the curtains had been blown open.

She almost felt bad for the spirit. What would it be like to die like that? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't have anymore time to waste sympathizing, the spirit charged towards her and Dean. Stacy was cowering behind the two.

Before the spirit could finish the job, she fell back shrieking. Orange flames overtook the body. The spirit let out a horrible wail as her bones were burned.

It was finally over.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

The rest of the night had went by in a blur. Stacy had left the hotel, leaving most of her things behind. She had helped Dean find John, who had been in the basement. Apparently the older man has thought that maybe the bones could have been hiding down there. He had been wrong.

Sam and Bobby had successfully managed to locate the bones and burn them. A simple salt 'n burn. The small graveyard hiding out back had been relatively easy for them to find. And now, everything was over. Everyone was safe.

Other than the small wound on her arm, she was fine. The cut has been hidden by her flannel so that her father hadn't seen it. Now that the adrenaline had faded the pain had increased. It was only a small wound though. She had already taken a few Ibuprofen pills for it.

That didn't stop Dean from fussing over her.

She was sitting on the ledge of the sink in the motels tiny bathroom, Dean stood in between her legs. She had discarded her flannel and long sleeve shirt earlier, leaving her in a tank top.

Dean poured antiseptic over a piece of gauze before wiping it over the wound. The sudden burning sensation made her eyes water. She suddenly understood why her father always made her stay in the motel.

"Shit, shit. I'm sorry. This won't take long," Dean said quickly. He tried to get this done as quickly as possible without doing anything incorrectly.

As Dean cleaned the cut, he racked his brain for ways to distract her from the pain. He leaned in a bit closer, one hand resting on her upper thigh. He still hasn't addressed his feelings for her.

Kissing her in the apple orchard had been one of the best days of his life. His lips connected with hers had just felt right. He couldn't say that about much. With how hectic his life was, nothing felt right anymore. It wasn't like that with her.

"Does it need stitches?" She asked Dean, around eye level with him since she was sitting on the counter.

Dean chuckled, "No, don't worry about that."

She nodded as he grabbed the roll of bandages. He wasted no time in quickly bandaging up her arm, making sure that it wasn't too tight.

Now that she wasn't so distracted by the pain, Dean's proximity made her heart race. He was so close to her that it made her cheeks heat slightly. A light pink blush creeped up on her neck.

"Something got you flustered?" Dean asked in that stupid velvety voice of his that made her melt.

"Obviously," She mumbled under her breath.

Dean placed his other hand on her thigh too. His gaze finally met hers. Their eyes met and it felt like they couldn't control themselves. Dean's lips quickly connected with hers. The two fell into a rather familiar pattern.

One of her arms wrapped around his neck. She threaded her fingers through his short hair. He groaned into the kiss whenever she gave a slight tug. The kiss didn't last long before she pulled away breathlessly.

"I want this to mean something," She said quietly to Dean. Now it was her turn to make his cheeks turn red.

Dean responded just like she had thought that he would. He pulled away even further and stated at her, jaw slack. It was no secret that he had a tiny bit of commitment issues. But, over the past year, ever since that day in the apple orchard, things had been different.

"I-I don't know," Dean said finally. He didn't believe that she actually wanted that, wanted to be with him. There would be obstacles. Neither one of their dads would approve.

"Dean, I've given you a year!" She said a little bit loudly. She quickly lowered her voice so that Sam would not hear anything she said. "You don't get to kiss me in the motel, and then act like we don't mean anything to each other."

Dean stepped back, considering her words. He didn't want to lose her. If he was being honest with himself the thought absolutely terrified him. She meant a lot to him, more than he would ever be able to admit.

"Okay," he said. "I want to be with you... but your dad might shoot me, no, your dad will shoot me if he finds out." Dean ran a hand through his hair, fixing it from where she had mused it.

She moved forward, letting her feet hit the floor as she left the counter top. She moved until she stood directly in front of him. One of her hands gently caressed his cheek.

"I never said that I wanted my dad finding out."

Dean leaned down, letting their lips connect once again. This kiss was different than the last. It was more desperate, more needy. Dean invaded every single one of her senses. All she could feel was Dean's hands roaming her body, all she could smell was his aftershave, all she could do was grasp at his shirt, her fingers wrapping around the cotton fabric.

Deans lips moved to her neck, lightly suckling on her soft skin. He was careful not to leave any makes that wouldn't be covered by a t-shirt. He lightly dragged his teeth a ross the skin below her collarbone, his lips never leaving her skin.

She had begun to lift his shirt up whenever she was interrupted. A loud knock on the door made her and Dean jump apart from each other in shock.

"Are you two almost done in there?" Sam called out impatiently. "Hurry up already! I need to take a shower." Sam had tried getting to the bathroom first, Dean had kicked him out though. The older Winchester had claimed that fixing up the wound would only take a few minutes. It had been a lot longer than just a few minutes.

Sam was covered in dirt from helping Bobby dig up the grave, and he smelled like a campfire. He had began to knock on the bathroom door again whenever it flew open.

A pissed off looking Dean walked out.

She followed behind him. She gave Sam a sheepish smile before following after Dean. Sam rolled his eyes before walking into the bathroom. He didn't have enough time to question what they had been doing. He was tired of their antics.

She had sat down on her bed, Dean had sat next to her. Her face literally up as his hand rested on her knee. The two began chatting about how the hunt had went, and well, they might have exchanged a few quick kisses. Getting caught by Sam wouldn't be pleasant.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N:

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1 @espressovz @illicithallways @tranquilitybasegrunge @ryoiii @delulu-101

Join My Tag List Here: Tag List 

[jamethinks]

Preliminary thoughts on 106

I've only read it once so i may have missed a few details so bare with me sexy

Donovan is such a well designed character. A menacing presence every time he's on a panel. I had to hold my phone at a healthy distance to get through this chapter. Beyond his signature bulging eyes, he has such a zombie like appearance to him that just leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

Damian's dynamic with his family is interesting. He's oddly optimistic, determined to have a bond with them despite their distance and coldness. He doesn't seem that interested in Melinda and I will give Endo the benefit of the doubt and say it's because they're already close (ignoring that she wanted him to die)

Demetrius is wonderful as always. Nonchalant king. He had not a concern about anything but his food and his work. Autism wants his number

Melinda was the stand out character. She was oddly quiet and timid in this chapter. Damian had no direct interaction her and she had few lines. Still there was something so unusual about her demeanor. She is normally very cheerful and bright, the only time we saw her this dull(?) was when Damian brought up his dad at the end the bus hijacking arc. At first I thought she was mad but looking at screencaps she seemed sad and uneasy but still a bit irritated.

Love how this chapter expanded on fucking nothing btw. A filler indeed. But a good kind, shows that when he's ready but the man cook.

Anya's absence in the chapter resulted in little to no thought bubbles. This further added to the tense environment. A lot of the tension in the story is subdued by Anya's (and to an extent Twilight's) perception. You're never fully lost or confused. This chapter however, you feel their absence as you're forced to watch these characters silently interact and only rely on what the author is willing to share.

Anya and Donovan have never interacted and his brief interaction with Twilight showed he has an intense amount of self control, hiding his intentions and responses cleverly. I will omit my tangent on the parallels between the two patriarchs for now but it's obvious they're good liars and manipulators. The same way Anya is Twilight's kryptonite (a person who cannot be lied to or manipulated) it's obvious she has the same dynamic with Donovan hence why the two of them have been kept apart for so long

Donovan's final comment about the dinner being worthwhile (man can someone compare the orig japanese version please) is the most captivating line. Two possible interpretations are: a, he genuinely didn't pick up on the terrible vibes in the room (touch of the tism, consequences of the lobotomy, who knows) or b. He did that shit on purpose

I like the second one more. The idea of him coming home and having dinner with his family fully aware of how awful they will feel the entire time is just peak villain shit. Choosing a random week in December to just make everyone miserable is the kind of evil I need.

I think of it as his way of reaffirming his dominance in the family. A cruel reminder of everyone's position in the family. As he sits at the head of the table gazing off coldly at his family while they all desperately avoid his gaze. The scene where he scans the room but his eyes barely move, oh what a wicked man.

Damian seems to still be learning his place in the family. He is again still trying to have a normal family life but he will soon fall in line I suppose much like his brother and learn how to stay quiet and work.

Donovan is clearly aware of his son's adoration of him and is using that to help "train" him. The moment where Damian was talking and he just sighs (vol 6) or his parting comment to slow down (indicating that he had been fully aware of his son the entire time, including his attempts to start a conversation).

tldr i love Donovan Desmond. They'll make me hate you, you ugly decrypted zombie man. 100000+ aura indeed. terrible terrible man

[anomaly-hivemind]

Beep Boop ☆ Ken Sato x Robot! Reader | Kinktober Day 5

Summary: You were programmed to help Ken with anything he needs, that means anything.

Word Count: 1122

Tags: Robots, fluff, massages, handjobs

You were a robot, here to serve and obey.  You'd cook, clean, and fix whatever was needed for you without question. Today after a difficult time trying to keep Emi To sleep, Ken seemed particularly tense.

“What is the matter? Kenji, ” You asked while walking over to where he slouched on the couch. 

“Just a bit tired, haven't been getting the best of rest lately.” He ran his hand through his hair ending with him rubbing the muscles of his face.  Which gave an idea on how to help, get good rest and relax. 

“Would you like a massage to ease your tired muscles? It will also help put you to sleep” he looked like he was contemplating the offer before giving you a short nod. 

You move closer to him after grabbing some oil for moisturizing from a cabin, take firm hands to his back shoulder blades, and start your massage. You watch him slide back down on the couch as you work on his shoulders. 

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. It brings a smile to your face, knowing that you're doing so well.  He moves to take his shirt off, lets out a fall on the slide of the couch, and leans back for a moment before speaking. 

“Could you get my back?” you hear his request and quickly get work on his back. He lays on his stomach so you can get a better and deeper angle on his back. Making sure to drip oil on his tan skin to make sure your hands glide easily on him.

“Thank you for this… I really need it” he lets out a groan, and a shiver travels through Ken's body. 

“It's always a pleasure to assist you.” Your hands gripped his waist and you pause for a moment.  You move in closer to him and start to his back, you dig your fingers into his sore muscles he lets out a whimper and shivers.  You undo his belt and slide his pants down to help get him better spots on his body. 

“Is this all right?”  You keep rubbing your hand on him and he melts at your touch. 

“Could you do a bit more?” Ken muttered.  You paused for a moment before you thought about what you could do for him. He moved to sit up as you got in front of him and you started a scan on his body. His body signatures read as tense, in several places, mostly in his leg area, his muscles were overstressed and needed his attention.  So you know what you need to work on next, you get down on your knees in front of him.  

“Could you take these off for me sir?” He seemed to have tense when you asked this, your hand on the seam of his pants when you did. Sato lets out a breath and swallows before sitting up off the couch, what you didn’t fully expect was for him to take his boxers off with them before sitting back down. You grab the oil and cover your hand before grabbing one of his legs and firmly grasping it. 

Ken lays back on the chair, your hands feeling like magic as you firmly rub them on his skin.  His eyes were closed and he started to breathe a bit harder the higher you went up his thigh.  You start to work on a knot that was forming on his upper thigh and he lets out a noise adjacent to a moan.  You looked up at him a little worried but he muttered something about wanting you to keep going so you do so without question.  Eventually, you were working on his other legs when you noticed the effect that you had on him. 

He was hiding a red face behind his arm, breathing heavier to the point of almost panting and the most obvious was the hard-on he was dealing with.  You couldn’t look away from it unless you were looking at his pink face, a new feeling running through your system. 

“Do… Do you want me to stop?” you were posted up between his legs, looking between h

“No please help me?” he let out a whimper, and he looked away from you, 

You looked down at him and slowly grabbed him, your hand wrapped around his length and he let out a huff and shivers.  You keep a slow pace as you stroke him, moving your hand up and down on him. You kept your eyes on him, watching and listening for every reaction he was having because of you. You flick your wrist and twist his hands while tightening your grip on him. Ken was huffing and letting out soft quiet moans as he ran a hand through his hair. 

He was still not looking at you fully beside from quick glances here and there, a part of you wanted him to look at you and be more vocal. You use your other hand and lightly trace your fingers along his balls, and you feel him lift his hips ever so slightly. 

“Is this what you needed? You grip his balls with the palm of your hand and start moving at a medium pace. 

“Yes…” he answered with a stutter, he was now fully looking at him and It brought a smile to your face. You stroke him faster moving your thumb along the head of his tip and giving his dedicated attention causing him to almost let out a whorish moan.  

He was leaning forward, looking at you between rapid blinks and sultry moans as he started to thrust up into your grip. His hips match every stroke you give him,  you smile up at him as he moves into your hand. He was getting close, and you could tell in multiple ways all of which was obvious to even you humans.  His cock was leaking precum adding to the like movement of your jerks. He was stuttering out incoherent sounds. 

“I’m so close!” his hand gripped over your one hand to help you get him off. He leaned against you before letting out one final moan. His whole body shivered and his eyes were closed, on mostly impulse, decided to take a picture of this moment for personal memory storage, only for a little while, just in case he needed a reminder.  His warm seed covers both your hands and he falls back on the couch. You get up and grab a towel to help clean your hand and him off. 

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” He was back to looking away from you, his face beet and he just gave you a simple nod.