#and sam? he's actually so smug

[disguting-girl-reads]

i totally believe john winchester would be a chainsmoker. that man is highly stressed, and although he does get drunk pretty often, it's still not often enough... so yea, i absolutely think he’d go through at least a pack a day. he’d smoke while driving, window cracked open, with his kids asleep in the backseat...

and sam would start pestering him about it as soon as he's old enough to learn about the dangers of smoking in school, and dean would start stealing cigarettes at 14 bc he wants to be cool like his daddy and 10 year old sam would be so fucking pissed at him lol

fast-forward to when dean drags sam back from stanford, and he finds out sam smokes now? oh, he’s livid. who said he could smoke ?? sammy knows better than that !! dean’s such a hypocrite, it'd be hilarious to watch

and like, sam only picked that smoking habit at stanford bc he missed his family, and the smell reminded him of them :(

and u know what would be even funnier? sam actually likes smoking. like, genuinely enjoys it. meanwhile, dean? he kinda hates it, always has. he only ever did it to look cool, to be like john.

so when he finds out that sam, of all people, is not only smoking but actually enjoying it? it would drive him insane.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

New Year, Still His Sunshine

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: As the Avengers ring in the New Year, Bucky Barnes struggles with jealousy and admiration for you, the team’s resident ray of sunshine. Amid the chaos, Bucky's protective instincts kick in when someone makes you uncomfortable. But as the night unfolds, Bucky discovers that he might not be as immune to your light as he once thought.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, protective Bucky, suggestive content, one curse word (at least I think so)

Author’s Note: Happy New Year! I hope this brings a little warmth to your day. If it’s still New Year’s Eve for you, have another drink. Even if it’s not, have another drink, you totally deserve it 🥂

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

The party was in full swing at the Avengers Tower, the New Year’s Eve atmosphere buzzing with excitement as music thumped and laughter echoed through the Tower. Ever the extravagant host, Tony Stark had outdone himself yet again, turning the space into a sparkling wonderland of lights and glamour. 

Everyone was dressed to the nines, including you, wearing a purple dress that flowed around you like water, the delicate fabric catching the light with every twirl.

Wanda had insisted on taking you dress shopping, and Natasha came too, not entirely trusting Wanda's creative judgment. The last time, she bought you a bright orange dress you couldn’t even sit in.

You were radiant, your purple dress catching the light as you moved with effortless grace. Its daring cut turned heads, but your sunshine-like presence and your infectious laughter truly stole the spotlight. 

At least for him.

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he watched you, his sharp blue eyes narrowing when a cocky junior agent approached. 

Steve and Sam caught the way Bucky’s gaze darkened.  

“You’re staring,” Steve teased, nudging his best friend.  

“Go talk to your girl,” Sam chimed in, grinning. “It won’t kill you, Barnes.”  

Bucky grunted in response, forcing himself to look away. 

“She’s fine,” he muttered, though his clenched fists betrayed him.  

But then the junior agent got too close. The kid leaned in, his smirk too smug, his tone too slick. You smiled politely, but Bucky could see the shift in your demeanor. The way your bubbly confidence dimmed slightly as you stepped back, you were uncomfortable but too sweet to be harsh. 

That was his last straw.  

Bucky pushed off the wall and strode over, his imposing presence making the agent step back instinctively. “You got something to say; you say it to me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and menacing.  

The agent stammered, backing away under Bucky’s glare. “N-no, sir, I was just-”  

“Leaving,” Bucky finished for him. The kid didn’t need to be told twice.  

“Bucky, I was fine,” you said softly once the agent scurried off, but your voice wavered.  

Bucky turned to face you fully, his hard expression softening the moment he saw the unshed tears in your eyes. 

“Hey, none of that,” he murmured, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “You cry; I might actually have to hurt someone, yeah?”  

You blinked up at him, surprised by the rare gentleness in his tone. “I wasn’t going to cry,” you sniffled, though your voice betrayed you.  

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, raising a brow as he reached out and brushed a gloved hand against your cheek, drying the corner of your eye.  

Your lips twitched into a weak smile. “You don’t have to be so mean on my behalf. I could have told him off.”  

“Yes, I do,” he said bluntly. “You’re too nice to people.”  

“That’s not a bad thing,” you replied, your smile softening.  

“It is when they don’t deserve it,” he countered, his voice gruff but protective.  

You let out a small laugh, the sound warming something cold and guarded inside him. 

His heart.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said.  

“And you’re fucking annoying and you drive me mad, sunshine,” he retorted, though there was no real bite to his words. He paused, his eyes meeting yours. “But I like you better when you’re smiling. So go back to that, will you?”  

You grinned up at him, your sunshine fully restored. You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. “Thanks, Bucky.”  

He stiffened for half a second before awkwardly patting your back. “Yeah, yeah. Go on before I change my mind.”  

You laughed and skipped off to rejoin Natasha and Wanda, leaving Bucky standing there, watching you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and fondness.  

Steve walked up to him, a knowing smirk on his face. “So, you’re not interested, huh?”  

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky muttered, but his gaze remained on you, a quiet thought slipping through his mind. 

Yeah, I’m definitely a goner.

Not long after, you escaped to the rooftop to see the fireworks. You leaned against the cold metal railing, your purple dress rippling behind you. The hum of the party inside felt miles away as you stared up at the sky. Your thoughts drifted, the quiet of the night offering you a moment of solitude to reflect.

Your year full of chaos, obstacles and laughter. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

The faint thud of boots echoed and a shadow fell over you. You didn’t need to turn to know it was Bucky. He had that presence about him that was strong and unwavering.

“Thought I might have found you here,” he said, his voice warm as he stood beside you. His eyes swept over the horizon, almost as if he were scared to meet your eyes. 

You glanced up at him with a playful smile. "You coming out to watch the fireworks, or did you just need some space?"  

Bucky didn’t answer right away. 

Instead, the night's first fireworks erupted above you, lighting the sky in a dazzling cascade of colors.

Without a word, Bucky pulled off his leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders. The warmth of it was immediate, cocooning you in its familiar scent of worn leather and his cologne, something uniquely him.  

"You looked cold," he muttered, his voice softer than usual. 

He didn’t meet your gaze; his eyes still trained on the fireworks display. But you could feel his gaze on you.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips. "Thanks, Bucky."  

As the fireworks continued, bursting overhead in bright, colorful explosions, you stood a little closer to him.

"You're not going to drag me back inside, are you?" you asked softly. 

You turned slightly to face him, feeling bolder than you normally would. Bucky’s gaze flicked to you. But after a beat, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. 

"Not yet," he said, his voice rough and kind. "But don’t get used to it."  

You grinned, a fluttering excitement making your pulse quicken. Turning fully toward him, your heart raced as the fireworks painted the sky. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes for just a second before you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips.  

Bucky froze, his body stiffening in surprise. But he didn’t push you off. Instead, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deepening the kiss just for a moment before he pulled back a fraction.  

“Well,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, “looks like you’ve finally lost your mind. Congratulations.”  

You grinned against his lips, cheeks flushed with heat. "Maybe I just like the way you look at me."  

Bucky’s gaze softened, the harsh edges of his usual guarded demeanor momentarily cracking. He reached up, his thumb grazing your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart skip. 

“I’m gonna have to kill the guy who ever hurts you, sunshine,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You smiled, tilting your head back to watch the final round of fireworks exploding in the sky. "Good thing that guy’s not around."  

Bucky’s arm instinctively tightened around your shoulders, pulling you close as he tucked you into his side.  

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice soft against your ear.

"Happy New Year, Bucky," you whispered back, your heart fluttering.

Bucky leaned in and kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as if savoring the quiet intimacy between you. When he pulled away, his eyes were darker as he cursed.

His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "You’ve got me all twisted up, sunshine," he muttered.

You smiled, your cheeks warm despite the chill. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"Not even close," he said, a rare, genuine smile softening his features. 

You shivered and he noted how you were still cold, even with his jacket. 

"Inside. You’re not going to freeze that cute little ass of yours off tonight," he said, his voice gruff but caring as he stepped back.  

"But-"  

"No, buts," Bucky cut you off, his tone final. His hand shot out, gently but firmly, wrapping around your wrist. "Come on. I’m not letting you stand out here like this any longer."  

You grinned up at him. “Fine, but can we at least go to your room?”  

Bucky shot you a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His lips curled into an amused smile.

"You’re lucky I like you, kid," he muttered, pulling you along as he steered you away from the rooftop and back into the warmth of the building. 

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy New Year!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[corkinavoid]

For @ladydoptera, to 'Pomegranate Lips' by Derivakat,

DPxDC Get a Taste

"Password?"

Tim swallows. The eyes in the narrow window of the metal door are plenty familiar, dark violet with black makeup. But knowing who is on the other side doesn't help him in the slightest.

"Going ghost," he says, keeping his voice low. The window slides back shut with a snap - metal over metal, Tim's ears hurt - and then, there's a click, a snap, and the door opens.

A girl in a creatively ruined but still somehow stylish gothic lolita dress is standing in front of him. She looks taller than usual, and when Tim looks down, he knows why - those platforms must be at least four inches, how does she even walk in those?

"Welcome, McFly," Sam's dark red lips curve in a smirk that looks just a bit too smug on her. Also, to this day, Tim has no idea why she picked that nickname for him.

He steps inside, and the heavy door slams shut behind him, leaving them both in complete darkness. Or, Tim thought so until he looks a little closer and notices how Sam's violet eyes are faintly glowing - not enough to light the way, but enough to raise a few questions.

Questions that Tim is not going to ask.

Yet.

"Follow me," the girl says, her voice on the brink between annoyed and amused, and starts walking away through the narrow hall. Tim does his best to follow; his eyes are adjusting to the darkness, albeit slowly.

However, the walk doesn't last long - ten or so steps later Sam pushes another door, and-

The closest thing Tim can describe it as is a rave, of all things. Loud, rhythmic music that thrums through his whole body, strobes and bright green lights everywhere, and people, hundreds of them, dressed in all kinds of things. Tim freezes in the doorway, struggling to take in the sight.

A woman in a Victorian dress is dancing with what looks to be a werewolf in prison robes. A child just threw a one-eyed parrot at a man in a black tie suit. A knight of plated armor is waving a sword around, seemingly arguing with-

"Keep your mouth closed," Sam's finger taps his chin from below, and Tim shuts it back closed with a snap. Right, he's got no time to gawk, he is here on a mission. But, when he looks back to Sam, his mind comes to a screeching halt yet again.

"How'd you-" he starts, looking at how the girl's skin, usually pale and almost white, is glittering with small lines of blood red runes. They are not tattoos, or at least Tim doesn't think so because they move, like tiny snakes or vines over her skin.

"Nope, not answering," Sam clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, her perfectly sharp eyeliner getting a deep, dark red hint as well, "I don't owe you shit."

With that, she turns around and starts weaving through the crowd, leaving Tim no choice but to follow.

The music is nearly crushing his eardrums. The crowd should feel suffocating - Tim knows it usually does in places like these - but somehow it doesn't. What's more, it feels cold. So cold, in fact, that goosebumps run over Tim's skin.

However, just as he feels like they are completely lost in this freezing, neverending sea of faces and figures, Sam stops. Tim almost runs into her back, actually, but, just as he is about to ask her why, she steps to the side and gestures for Tim to go ahead.

And Tim... Tim can't move a muscle.

There's a corner booth in front of him, with red velvet seats and more than a few dozen drinks, empty and full, on the table in the middle. Some of the liquids are glowing toxic, unnatural colors, and in the back corner of his mind, Tim still remembers why he's here. He is investigating, right. Which includes meeting the owner of 'Afterlife' face to face, yeah. Something about a new drug on the streets of Gotham, probably.

Tim can't concentrate.

The guy lazily sitting at the table, with hair so white that it's nearly glowing and his pale skin shimmering with highlighter on his cheekbones, causes Tim's mind to completely bluescreen. Because the unbuttoned black suit with embroidered stars and an open white shirt underneath, the neon blue, faintly glowing cold eyes, and blood red lips stretched in a dangerous smile - that's thankfully is not directed at him - are all... Too much.

Not blood red, actually. It's a different color, but Tim can't remember the name.

He can barely remember his own name, to be honest.

"Oi, Danny," Sam snaps her fingers in the air, and the ethereal being blinks, tearing his unblinking gaze away from the man in a white suit sitting across from him to look at her. Then, his eyes slide to Tim, and, okay, he thought he was well past the gay panic stage of his life, but apparently not.

The guy - the god? because only divine fucking things have the right to look so otherworldly pretty, in Tim's opinion - tilts his head to the side slightly, a curious edge to him. And then he smiles, nice and a little sly, but Tim can't shake off the feeling of sharp danger that runs through his spine.

Pomegranate, that's the color.

Bite it once, and you will never leave the Underworld.

"Can I help you, little bird of crimson color?" The ethereal owner of the most mysterious place in Gotham asks without raising his voice, and yet Tim can hear him despite the loud music around.

...Maybe he doesn't mind never leaving, if he can get a taste.

~•~•~•~

When I put that song on for the first time, I was like, that's Sam. That's so Sam. But then I started writing, and things got weird, so it's both Sam and Danny now.

Tim is so gone, I'm sorry, RIP Tim. Funny thing is, he barely said a single word throughout the whole piece.

[wolvietxt]

𝓻oom 𝓯or 𝓶ore ??

pairing : dean winchester x female!reader warnings : food mentions, forced proximity, frenemies to lovers, crying, hurt / comfort, offhand comments, fluff, kiss wc : 3.3k a/n : hello supernatural fandom🙋‍♀️ i’m only on season two yet sorry if anything seems off, also taglist form here (i’ve finally added dean + sam)

the diner was loud, the clatter of plates and hum of conversation filling the space as dean leaned back in the booth, looking way too pleased with himself. he’d already finished his burger, one arm slung casually over the back of the seat while his other hand nursed a cup of coffee. sam, as usual, was glued to his laptop, scrolling through case notes like his life depended on it.  

you stabbed a fry into a pool of ketchup on your plate, glancing between the two brothers. "so, what’s the deal with this case? anything concrete yet, or are we still chasing theories?"  

sam didn’t look up, too focused on the screen. dean, on the other hand, smirked and tapped the edge of his mug. "chasing theories, sweetheart. that’s the fun part."  

"yeah, nothing screams fun like getting blindsided by a vetala or a skinwalker because someone didn’t do their homework," you shot back, arching a brow.  

dean grinned, the kind that always made you want to smack it right off his face. "don’t worry, i’ll save your ass. again."  

"oh, please," you scoffed, shaking your head. "the only thing you save is your own ego."  

sam finally chimed in, his voice calm as he flipped his laptop around to show the two of you a map. "four victims, all found in their homes, all with the same m.o. blood drained, no signs of forced entry. we’re looking at a vetala, but the pattern doesn’t quite fit. usually, they target travelers, not locals."  

"so, what’s the plan?" you asked, leaning forward.  

"we’ll hit the victims’ homes tomorrow," sam said, shutting the laptop. "for tonight, there’s a motel nearby. we can regroup there."  

"works for me," dean said, already sliding out of the booth.  

the drive to the motel was tense but quiet, aside from dean insisting on blasting some alice in chains track while you stared out the window, trying to ignore the knot of exhaustion twisting in your chest. by the time you pulled into the parking lot, all you wanted was a shower and some peace.  

"i’ll grab the rooms," sam offered, heading toward the front desk.  

dean stretched as he got out of the impala, giving you a sideways glance. "bet the rooms are gonna be just as glamorous as last time."  

"as long as they’re clean, i don’t care," you muttered, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  

a few minutes later, sam returned, holding two keys. his expression was almost apologetic as he handed one to dean.  

"is there a problem?" you asked as you approached him.

sam glanced back at you, looking sheepish. "there are only two rooms left."

"that’s fine," dean said easily. "i’ll take one, and you two can share."

"not happening," you and sam said in unison.

dean held up his hands, grinning. "okay, okay, relax. i’ll bunk with sam."

"actually," sam said, cutting in, "i already grabbed a key. figured i’d get first pick since i’m the one doing all the work."

your jaw dropped. "are you kidding me?"

"sorry," sam said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "but hey, at least you’re stuck with dean and not some random stranger, right?"

you glared at him, but he just flashed you a smug grin and gave a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into his room, a soft chuckle coming from his direction.

"great," you muttered.

dean jingled the remaining key in his hand, smirking. "c’mon, sweetheart, don’t look too excited. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that." he muttered, winking at you. 

"don’t call me sweetheart," you muttered, snatching the key from him and stomping toward the room.  

"aw, come on," dean said, following behind. "it’s not that bad. i’m great company."  

you didn’t dignify that with a response, shoving the door open and flicking on the light. the room was standard cheap motel fare: scratchy carpet, ugly wallpaper, and one double bed smack in the middle.  

"of course," you muttered under your breath.  

"well," dean said, tossing his duffel onto the bed, "this’ll be cozy."  

"you’re sleeping on the floor," you said flatly, dropping your bag onto the chair.  

he scoffed, already kicking off his boots. "yeah, that’s not happening. bad for my back."  

"your back?" you repeated, turning to glare at him. "what about my back?"  

he grinned, flopping onto the bed like he owned it. "you’ll survive."  

"you’re unbelievable," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.  

"relax, sweetheart," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "it’s just one night. unless you’re worried about me stealing the covers."  

"i’m worried about strangling you in your sleep," you muttered, grabbing your toiletries and heading for the bathroom.  

his laughter followed you, low and smug.  

when you returned, showered and slightly less irritated, dean was still sprawled across the bed, flipping through channels on the ancient tv.  

"move," you said, gesturing for him to scoot over.  

he rolled onto his side, patting the spot next to him. "plenty of room, baby. don’t be shy."  

you froze at the word, heat creeping up your neck. "don’t call me that."  

"what? you don’t like pet names?" he asked, smirking.  

"not from you," you snapped, climbing into bed as far from him as possible.  

he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "suit yourself, princess."  

you turned your back to him, willing yourself to sleep. but after a few minutes of silence, dean spoke again, his tone lighter now.  

"you know, for someone who acts so tough, you sure get wound up over the little things."  

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, not turning around.  

"just saying," he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "you’re always trying so hard to prove something. it’s like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just... fade into the background or something."  

the words hit harder than you expected, and you felt your chest tighten.  

"wow," you said quietly, your voice colder now. "thanks for the psychoanalysis, dr. winchester."  

"hey, i didn’t mean - " he started, his voice accompanied by a hint of amusement.

"forget it," you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.  

dean didn’t say anything else, and after a while, you heard the tv click off. but sleep didn’t come easily, the sting of his words lingering long after the room went dark.  

the room was too quiet. the kind of quiet that made every little sound seem deafening: the creak of the mattress springs when dean shifted, the low hum of the heater kicking on, the rustle of the thin motel sheets.  

you lay on your side, staring at the wall. the pillow beneath your head felt stiff and lumpy, but that wasn’t what was keeping you awake. it was his words - flippant, thoughtless, but sharp enough to slice through you like a blade.  

"you’re always trying so hard to prove something... like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just fade into the background or something."

dean didn’t get it. he never did. it wasn’t just about proving something. it was about survival. you couldn’t afford to screw up - not in your line of work, not with the stakes so high. the constant pressure to be sharp, to be reliable, to be good enough - it wasn’t a choice. it was a necessity.  

and then dean had to come along and throw it in your face like some stupid joke.  

you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. the tears prickling at your eyes were unwelcome, hot and stubborn. you didn’t cry often - not over things like this. but tonight, with exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders and his words still echoing in your head, it was harder to hold back.  

on the other side of the bed, dean was still awake. you could hear his steady breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.  

"you asleep?" he muttered, voice low in the dark.  

you didn’t answer.  

"look, i didn’t mean anything by what i said earlier," he added after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "i was just messing around."  

still, you said nothing.  

he sighed, and you could picture him scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "fine. be mad. whatever."  

you turned back onto your side, curling into yourself as quietly as you could. you just wanted him to stop talking, stop prying at the wound he’d opened.  

a tear slipped free despite your best efforts, quickly followed by another. you pressed your face into the pillow, hoping the darkness would swallow your silent crying.  

but then dean spoke again, and his words hit you like a brick.  

"are you hugging the damn pillow?"  

your breath hitched. you weren’t hugging the pillow exactly, but you had one arm curled around it for some semblance of comfort. you stiffened, waiting for him to make another joke.  

and he did.  

"what, you need a cuddle buddy?" his voice was teasing, laced with that stupid humor he always used to deflect.  

"shut up, dean," you said, your voice cracking in a way that made you wince.  

the laughter in his voice faded immediately. "wait... are you - "  

"don’t," you snapped, your throat tight. "just don’t."  

the room went dead silent. for a moment, you thought maybe he’d dropped it, that he’d roll over and go to sleep. but then the bed shifted, and you felt him sit up.  

"hey," he said softly. "what’s going on?"  

you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.  

"come on, talk to me," he pressed, his voice gentle now. "did i say something? because if i did..." he trailed off, exhaling a long breath. "damn it. i’m sorry, okay? i’m an idiot. we both know that."  

you let out a shaky breath, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your shirt. "it’s fine. just forget it."  

"yeah, no," he said, moving closer. "you don’t get to say ‘it’s fine’ when you’re over there crying into the pillow."  

"i’m not crying into the pillow," you muttered, your voice muffled.  

"baby," he said, the word soft and warm and startlingly tender. "you can’t lie to me. i can hear it."  

your breath hitched at the nickname. it wasn’t one he used often, and when he did, it wasn’t like this - low and soothing, like he was trying to piece you back together.  

"just drop it," you said, curling tighter into yourself.  

"not happening," he said firmly. you felt the bed dip as he leaned closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. "look at me."  

"no."  

"please," he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.  

you hesitated before slowly rolling onto your back, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. his face was close, the dim light from the streetlamp outside casting soft shadows over his features.  

"what did i say?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.  

you bit your lip, the words sticking in your throat, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. but the way he was looking at you - like he actually cared - made it harder to hold them back.  

"you said..." you started, then stopped, your chest tightening. "you said i’m trying too hard. like... like i’m afraid i’m not good enough."  

his face fell, and you saw the exact moment he realized how much his words had hurt. "oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his hand finding yours. "i didn’t mean that. i swear. i was just being a jackass, like always."  

you shook your head, blinking back fresh tears. "it’s not just that, dean. it’s... everything. the way you always joke around, like nothing’s serious. like none of this matters. but it does. it matters to me."  

he didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. "you’re right," he said finally. "it does matter. and i should’ve thought about that before running my mouth."  

his honesty caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him, your defenses wavering.  

"you’re good at what you do," he said, his voice steady. "better than good. you’re smart and tough and... and hell, i don’t even know how you put up with me half the time. but you do. and i..." he hesitated, his green eyes searching yours. "i don’t want you to think i don’t see that. or that i don’t appreciate you. because i do."  

your breath caught, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the heater.  

"dean," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.  

he leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "i mean it, baby," he said softly. "you mean a lot to me."  

the words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. before you could second-guess yourself, you tilted your head slightly, and his lips brushed against yours - tentative, testing.  

when he felt you kiss him back, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. he was solid and warm, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. his fingers traced the curve of your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt just enough to make your skin tingle.  

you felt the roughness of his fingertips, the callouses from years of hunting and fighting. they were a stark contrast to the softness of his touch, a reminder of how layered he was - how carefully he’d built this facade that now felt like it was falling away. he moaned low into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you responded with a shiver, your hands finding their way to the hard lines of his chest.  

you couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch as you pressed your palms against him, as if the simple contact spoke volumes. his mouth moved against yours, claiming, exploring, every stroke of his tongue leaving a heat behind that was making it hard to think straight. his hands shifted, one moving up to cradle your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheek, the other slipping under the edge of your shirt again, skimming just above the curve of your hip.  

he pulled you tighter, until you were pressed fully against him, the soft fabric of his shirt brushing your skin. you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way he seemed to anchor you to the moment, making sure you were there, right with him. it was dizzying, intoxicating, a heady mix of familiarity and newfound wonder that made you feel like you were on the edge of falling.

his mouth traveled to the corner of your jaw, down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made your skin burn. you gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that sent a surge of pride through him, made him growl low in his throat as he pulled you back into another kiss. his hands moved, now tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, making sure you felt every ounce of him, every single unspoken word he hadn’t said yet.  

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns along your jaw.

"you okay?" he almost cooed at you.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yeah. i think i am."  

"good," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "because i’m not going anywhere. not tonight. not ever."  

you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just leaned into him, letting his warmth and steady presence chase away the lingering ache in your chest.   

you woke to warmth. a heavy arm draped over your waist, the quiet rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. for a moment, you didn’t move. you let yourself sink into the comfort of it - the weight of his arm, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint smell of his aftershave still clinging to the air.  

then reality crept in, and your eyes blinked open. the events of the night before played on a loop in your mind: the fight, his apology, the kiss.  

you turned slightly, just enough to see him. dean was still asleep, his face softer in the early morning light. his lips, which had been pressed to yours just hours ago, were parted slightly, and his hair was sticking up in a way that would’ve made you laugh if your heart wasn’t pounding so hard.  

you were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice his eyes fluttering open until it was too late.  

"morning," he said, his voice low and gruff with sleep.  

"morning," you murmured, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were.  

he didn’t move his arm, didn’t pull away. instead, he tightened it slightly, drawing you closer.  

"you okay?" he asked, his tone soft but cautious, like he wasn’t sure where you stood after everything.  

you nodded, your cheeks warming. "yeah. i’m okay."  

his lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that always seemed to disarm you. "good."  

for a while, neither of you said anything. the quiet was comfortable this time, filled with the unspoken understanding that something between you had shifted.  

eventually, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "so, uh... about last night."  

his smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "yeah. look, if you’re having second thoughts, or if - "  

"i’m not," you said quickly, cutting him off.  

his brow furrowed. "you’re not?"  

you shook your head, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. "no. i’m not."  

relief washed over his features, and he let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. "good. because, uh... i meant what i said. all of it."  

"even the part where you called me baby?" you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

he chuckled, the sound low and warm. "especially that part."  

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in your chest easing. "you’re such a sap."  

"yeah, well, don’t get used to it," he said, but the teasing edge in his voice didn’t quite mask the affection in his eyes.  

before you could respond, there was a knock at the door.  

"you two decent?" sam’s voice called from the other side.  

you froze, your eyes widening as you looked at dean. he just smirked, clearly amused by your panic.  

"yeah, come on in," he called back, his tone casual.  

"dean!" you hissed, scrambling to sit up and tugging the blanket higher over yourself, even though you were fully dressed.  

the door opened, and sam stepped in, his eyes immediately darting between the two of you. his brows raised slightly, but he didn’t say anything.  

"breakfast?" he offered, holding up a brown paper bag.  

"thanks, sammy," dean said, sitting up and stretching like he hadn’t just been caught in bed with you.  

sam set the bag on the table, his expression carefully neutral. "we should hit the road soon. got another lead a few towns over."  

"got it," dean said, already reaching for the bag.  

as sam left, you turned to dean, your eyes narrowing. "you’re impossible, you know that?"  

"what? it’s not like we were doing anything wrong," he said, unbothered.  

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "you’re lucky i like you."  

"damn right i am," he said, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your temple.  

and just like that, the tension was gone, replaced by the easy banter that had always defined your relationship - only now, there was something softer beneath it. something real.  

as you packed up and got ready to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. the road ahead was uncertain, as it always was, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.  

you glanced at dean as he loaded the bags into the impala, the sunlight catching in his hair. he looked over his shoulder, catching you watching him, and smirked.  

"you coming, baby?"  

you rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. "yeah, i’m coming."  

and as you slid into the passenger seat, the familiar rumble of his impala’s engine beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - this was the start of something good.  

🌀 dean winchester : @person-005

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[mochinomnoms]

Silly JadeYuu idea but!!

I've seen it so often in fanfics where Jade can dig up info on literally anyone in the school, so he decides to get his hands on any and all information on The Prefect as he can.

Except, there really isn't a lot to dig up on The Prefect, is there? Don't get him wrong, Jade loves a challenge but it seems like he forgot that Yuu didn't even exist in Twisted Wonderland before September, there is no digital footprint to doomscroll through, no hometown he can research and become an over night expert on. Crowly doesn't even have your birthdate recorded on file!!

All Jade has to go of off learning anything he can about Yuu is your besties Adeuce and Grim (awful, he'd die before he let's himself owe Ace Trappola a favour) or ask you all about yourself which...sounds almost too easy to work, right?

Or something 💦

Aaaaa it's such a predicament for him! At first, he didn't really need to gather too much information on you, but now that he's interested and needs to know you inside and out, the weirdly limited amount of information about you is concerning....

this can take place in the later chapters of ptm when you are starting to pine back for jade~

tags: @ghousus

Jade had meant an unfortunate roadblock. Which was rare for him, especially when it came to intel.

It only took him but a few days to compile the intel on his dorm's freshmen for Azul, he even managed to find students' secret social media accounts.

Yet you were simultaneously NRC's worst and best kept secret.

He's positive that Crowley had intended to keep your transdimensional status a secret to but himself and the staff, yet it became increasingly obvious as the last school year progressed that you were not from this world.

If the lack of basic magical knowledge for didn't tip someone off, the gap in basic history facts and the random things you spewed out did.

"WHY IS THE CAT'S EARS ON FIRE? AND BLUE?" "Is that, like, your actual ears and tail or?" "Wait, so you're not an elf? Isn't that the same thing as a fae?" "Oh yeah we have a story about a kid and a beanstalk too! No guns on school grounds though, too many school shootings." "HOLY FUCK WHY DO YOU HAVE SCALES?" "I'm not making it up, people back home go to space, we have flags on the moon! You mean to tell me you guys didn't have a space race or something? ...What do you mean what's the point!? IT'S THE MOON!"

No one could really fault you for your cluelessness, thought Jade found it quite cute.

Unfortunately, that made it difficult to find information on you, especially back when Azul task him with finding dirt on you to get Ramshackle.

"I'm sorry to say Azul, but there is no information on Ramshackle's prefect prior to their attendance here. Not even evidence of their birth." "Well look harder! It's not like they popped out of nowhere! I need that dorm Jade, so do your job and find me something I can work with!"

After Azul's...outburst shall he say, and their discovery that the Prefect did actually pop out of nowhere, Jade has held it over his head quite smugly.

He wasn't so smug anymore, though, not when he was so invested in getting your heart and keeping it all to himself. Hard to do when there was little to no information about you.

Here's what Jade did know:

You liked dancing, though you weren't particularly good at it. Same with singing.

Silver had taken to teaching you how to use a sword, and you were quite good at it.

You tend to split your meals with Grim, even when offered your own plate.

Sam's soda that Azul had acquired last year was your favorite drink. You also liked the milkshakes at the lounge, though you rarely got them.

You scare easily and are near incapable of scaring someone else.

You were reckless when it came to your friends, to the point that you've nearly died about 9 times since arriving to their world.

And, of course, there were the little things that Jade noticed. Like the way the color in your eyes brightened in the sun.

Or the way you picked at your nails when nervous.

And the way you purse your lips when you get confused.

Oh! He thought the way you chewed on your pen was awfully cute.

Ah, the way you looked at him sometimes with an embarrassed look was something he's come to memorize. He's memorized many of your various facial expressions...like the one you made when you caught him staring at you. Despite his best efforts.

It's like you knew he was thinking about you...

He also knew that you liked to hide your smile and laughter when either got too big, big enough to show your teeth and gums. Big enough to make you snort and cackle like a witch from one of those human children shows someone showed him once. He knew your laugh like the beat of his heart.

Jade knew a lot, and yet nothing at all about you. What was your family like? Friends back home? What did you study? What were you wanting to be? Did you have a pet? A partner?

Don't worry about the last question! He's just a bit curious about the company you keep is all.

In any case, your little group of friends throwing you your birthday party was the perfect excuse for him to delve into your personal life with a plausible excuse.

"I thought Grim would be doing the interview questions for them? It's all we're letting him do so we can throw the Prefect a decent party this time."

Most people remembered the 'party' that the group of five then freshmen tried throwing you. It was hastily put together, no white suit as traditionally provided for a first year's birthdays, and the cake was a pile of tuna cans that Grim placed several small candles on top of. Which promptly fell over, caught a window drape on fire, and nearly brought the whole of Ramshackle into a blaze.

It also wasn't your birthday at that time. (That at least is a piece of information he could get his hands on.)

Now Ortho was involved, and Jade wasn't positive if that decrease or increased the potential fire hazard.

"Last year he did, yes. However, since the new freshman have been taking residence in Ramshackle, they've taken over the yearbook duties."

Usually, Jade would be able to gather his intel with little to no help from others, especially considering most of the school logged their activities on their social medias by the minute. Plus, his father's “questionable” career provided him with ample access to private investigators and databases.

But when it came to you? He didn't have much of a choice other than to depend on others. How troublesome.

"Aspen offered to take over the interview along with his other party tasks, but the poor thing has been struggling to juggle all his duties at Ramshackle and in Octavinelle."

Lies. Aspen was doing perfectly well, but when Aspen complained rather loudly in the Mostro Lounge kitchen about having to do the interview, Jade was more than happy to offer to take all the tasks from him. No future payment or favor required.

Aspen, with pink cheeks and hearts in his eyes, was more than happy to hand all of his tasks over to Jade with little thought.

"Oh, I guess then…" Deuce looked back at Ace in the kitchen with Trey on a video call. Saying that he was attempting to make a cake would be generous.

"…You know what, it's fine. We got a lot going on here. But, uh, when you're asking the Prefect about their ideal party, the sort of presents they like, and the usual stuff, try to be discreet. It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Jade raised a brow in amusement. "Really? How did you manage to get them fitted for their birthday jacket? I imagine that would be hard to keep a surprise."

Ace turned around, cradling a bowl in one arm and waving a wooden spoon. Jade is positive he could hear Trey cry out at him to not wave the batter around.

"Epel told them that Vil wanted them to come by to that film festival we when to last year, and needed to measure them for it."

The ginger flinched at Trey's voice chastising him through the phone.

"Hey! You asked for my help now pay attention before you drop the entire bowl and have to start over!"

"Okay! Okay! Jeez, you're almost as bad as Riddle when it comes to baking…" Ace grumbled, scrunching his nose like a child being scolded by his parents.

Jade withheld an amused snort at the thought, turning back around to Deuce to give him a polite nod and smile.

"Well then, it seems that you both have your work cut out for you. I'll leave you to it then."

Turning to leave, Jade ignored Deuce 'whispering' to Ace.

"Are we sure he should be asking them all these questions? You know how they'll probably get…"

Their voices faded out as he left Heartslabyul's kitchen, out the lounge, and to the entrance. He had previously been joined by Floyd, but his brother took off to find his favorite person entertainment.

Based on the rising voice of Riddle somewhere off in the rose maze, Floyd was successful.

Now, it was his turn to find his own favorite person.

You weren't hard to find, just follow the loud direbeast's noises, and you were bound to be there. It also helped that Jade had memorized your weekly schedule.

They should be finishing up their flight class soon, so I'll check the fields first.

It wasn't a particular trek, but it was a bit a walk from the Hall of Mirrors. Though, with how vast the campus was, it was expected.

Maybe he can stop at Sam's to grab a nice cold water to offer you. After all, he needs to demonstrate just how caring and dependable he is for you, and he'll start digging his place in to your heart!

Though, it seems that you were ahead of schedule, currently making your way to Ramshackle. Limping, even.

Oh dear, did you get hurt my pearl! I hope you're alright.

Like always, you seemed to sense him before he could even process your presence.

Those pretty, mesmerizing eyes widened, blinking at him with a piercing stare.

"Jade, hey, what are you doing here?"

Jade had to keep himself from running towards you like he wanted, instead taking a leisurely pace as you jogged towards him.

"Hello Prefect," My darling pearl~ "What a coincidence, I was just on my way to see you."

You gave him a knowing smile, eyes squinting as you did.

"Birthday, right?"

"Oh? And here I thought it was a secret~"

You snorted, covering your mouth to cover your grin. Cute.

"I have my...ways!" You looked to the side, pursing your lips before looking back at him. "But I'm guessing you got wrapped up in helping somehow?"

Again, that look, like you already knew the answer to your own question.

"Yes, I offered to help get a list of important party preferences for your friends. I do believe Deuce in particular is worried about your gift preferences."

Personally, I think the sea glass ring I had commissioned is going to be your favorite. But I'd rather exchange the gift privately, more intimately...cherish your reaction.

The thought of you, looking at him completely dazzled and struck by his confession was a fond thought. To finally make you his and his alone would be a dream. He just needed to know your idea date, which is what this little mission of his could help with.

"You know Jade, you don't have to find an excuse to find things out about me." Jade blinked, feeling himself warm up under your gaze.

How do you always...

"Oh?" Jade chuckled, hiding his smile behind a fist. "Did I give off that impression? I'm simply providing my assistance to those in need."

You rolled your eyes, pausing as you made eye contact with him and looked at your feet in embarrassment.

"No you don't��I mean not intentionally—I can just tell..." Jade let his smile soften into something more fond as he watched you stumble over your words.

"It's alright, I am always curious." And you just happen to be a strong topic of interest. "There is very little known about you, are you aware that you didn't have a student file up until a few months ago?"

Squinting your eyes at him in suspicion, you poked an accusatory finger into his chest.

"And why do you know that? I thought Azul didn't need you to dig up dirt on anyone since last fall."

Placing a hand on his chest, Jade pouted. "That's rather harsh little pearl, I prefer the term 'conducting research', it sounds much nicer. Besides..."

Jade couldn't help but give you a smug smirk, curling his finger for you to come closer. Hesitating, you leaned in on your tiptoes as he leaned down. His gray strand brushed against your cheek as he heard you take in a sudden breath.

In a soft, low, almost heady voice, he whispered, "...you're just something I'm particularly interested in. I want to know you inside and out~"

Oh, how he delighted in seeing you fumble back and clasp your hands together in a fluster. Though, from the heat in his cheeks, he's probably no better off right now.

Covering your lower face in your hand, Jade could just barely make out your muttering.

"When did you get so direct..."

As quickly as he got that sweet reaction, you straightened up and smiled at him.

"Well, as long as your helping the others, I can give you my free time." You gestured for Jade to follow you to your dorm, swinging your arms as you walked.

Before you even made a few feet, you stopped and turned back to Jade with a shy expression.

"Um...but you don't need an excuse to go out or anything like that." Jade felt an electric shock fly up his spine as you gingerly reached for his right hand.

Your thumb rubbed over his hand in a tender gesture, like you were trying relax him as the tingling sensations and the rapid beating of his heart increased.

"I'd like to be with—or, I mean, be around you more." You looked like you were burning up with embarrassment, while he rejoiced internally.

YES YES YES! I want to be with you! I want you, let me have you! You will won't you?

"...Of course, I'd like that too." Jade brought the hand holding his up to his lips, barely brushing the skin with a kiss. "I'm more than happy to indulge my whims, why not take advantage of you offering?"

You both made eye contact, staring into each other as if waiting for the other to make a move.

Gods, I love you...

It didn't take long for you to jerk your hand back, looking up at him with a like he just confessed his love and offered his soul to you.

He didn't say that out loud...right?

"Um, let's head to Ramshackle to talk." You turned back around and started quickly walking, leaving Jade to catch up to you, though with his legs it wasn't hard. "I wanna get out of my uniform..."

I could help with that~

"I'll just change into something really baggy! Nice and comfy!" You let out a nervous laugh as you continued walking.

Makes for easier access~

He wasn't sure what was in your way, but somehow you managed to trip over air and smack into the ground.

[dulcescorderitas]

introducing 𝕓𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

 🐇 soft and sultry .ᐟ  glamour.  old-school pin-up.  cherry lip balm.  spoiled.  lace-trimmed slips.  baby pink and jet black.  dean’s weakness.  sam’s angel.  sweetheart.  lip prints on motel mirrors.  thigh-high stockings.  flirty but shy.  satin sheets.  diner milkshakes. baby, honey, sugar.  books and bruises.  takes care of her boys.  bites.

about bunny.ᐟ

bunny hoards lip gloss – she always has at least three different flavors in her bag, and both dean and sam have caught her reapplying in the middle of a hunt. dean pretends to be annoyed, but he secretly loves the glossy kiss marks she leaves on his cheek. sam has, on multiple occasions, had to tell her that cherry-flavored lip gloss does not count as a proper meal.

she always sleeps in the middle – no matter who wins rock-paper-scissors, bunny always ends up sandwiched between dean and sam. she sleeps best when she’s tucked between them, warm and safe, even if it means waking up to one of them snoring in her ear.

bunny is obsessed with polaroid pictures – she keeps a little stash of candid shots of her and the boys in her juicy suitcase. some are cute, some are blurry, and some are her forcing dean to pose even though he groans about it. sam is always the easiest to convince because he secretly likes documenting their moments together.

she has a sweet tooth – bunny will absolutely steal bites of dean’s pie and sam’s granola bars when they’re not looking. she once ate an entire bag of gummy bears during a stakeout, and sam still brings it up every time they need to buy snacks.

bunny loves classic hollywood movies – she forces dean and sam to watch old black-and-white films with her whenever they have a night off. dean pretends to complain, but he actually likes them, and sam just enjoys seeing bunny so excited about something.

she has a signature perfume – it’s a soft vanilla and floral mix that lingers in the impala and on dean and sam’s clothes. even if she’s not around, the scent reminds them of her, and they both pretend they don’t notice when they unconsciously breathe it in.

bunny sings when she’s doing research – she hums under her breath while flipping through lore books, and sometimes, when she gets really into it, she’ll start singing full songs. sam secretly likes it because it makes long research nights feel less tedious and boring. dean just grins and calls her their “personal little radio.”

she leaves love notes – they’re nothing dramatic, just little sticky notes with doodles and silly messages left in the impala or slipped into their bags. “don’t forget to eat!” for sam. “winchester’s hottest” for dean. it makes them roll their eyes, but they always keep them.

bunny’s great at poker – she once hustled an entire bar full of bikers with her sweet smile and innocent act. dean was both horrified and proud. sam just sighed and made sure they got out before things turned ugly.

she has a thing for soft fabrics – bunny is obsessed with cozy sweaters, silky slips, and fluffy blankets. she steals dean’s flannels and sam’s hoodies constantly, and they never complain because she looks sexy in them.

dean had seen her before they met – it wasn’t until months after bunny joined them that it clicked for dean—he had seen her before, in a playboy issue he "definitely only bought for the articles." he never brought it up at first, but one night, after too many beers, he blurted it out. bunny just giggled and asked if she looked good. dean, flustered but smug, told her she looked “real damn good” but that he liked having the real thing all to himself now. sam, overhearing, just rolled his eyes and muttered, “of course.”

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Delicious Promises

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: smut, fingering

Summary: You and Dean are always at each other’s throats, making it hard to hunt with each other. What you two need is a good way to release your frustrations, no matter who is around to hear it.

Square Filled: one bed for three (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Hunting with the Winchesters brings out two emotions: excitement and annoyance. Excitement because you love hunting with them, saving people, and killing monsters. You can do it by yourself but they’re so good at what they do, it makes sense to want to do it with them. Annoyance because you can’t stand Dean. He’s cocky, arrogant, bossy, and always thinks he’s right about everything. You can’t stand the man. Sam is usually the buffer between you and Dean and can often keep both of you calm but if you’re alone with the older Winchester, things won’t end well.

You’re also pissed off because he’s so hot. You’ve roomed next to him before; he knows exactly what he’s doing when he has a woman in his bed. Women fawn all over him whenever he walks into a room, and can you blame them? It pains you to admit but you often thought about being one of those women in his bed at times.

Not only does he piss you off, but you piss him off, too. You hunt just as well as he does if not a little better, and it drives him up a wall when you don’t listen to him. You go off on your own and do whatever it is that you want despite you always telling him you can handle it. It always seems to work out in the end for you which is what pisses him off.

Sam, on the other hand, is one of your best friends. You two get along great which is why you agreed to go on this hunt with them. He asked for your help knowing he and his brother wasn’t going to be enough. Dean’s been driving for nearly an entire day to get to Maine, so he decides to stop at some hotel instead of a motel. They have Men of Letters money so they can splurge on sleeping comfortably tonight.

There is a convention happening in town so there is only one room available by the time you get to them. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem since you took turns sleeping in the bed whenever you were with the Winchesters. As long as there were two beds and a sofa bed, you’d be alright. However, when you get to the room, you are disappointed to see only one bed--a California King.

“Tell me there is a sofa bed,” you say. You walk over to the couch and lift the cushions only to be disappointed again. “Shit.”

“It’s fine. This is big enough for all three of us. Just sleep in the middle,” Sam says.

You barely look at Dean. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Is sharing a bed with us that traumatic?”

“Yes, actually because you’ll be in there,” you sneer.

“Will you two quit it? We’re here to hunt, and we can’t do that if you’re at each other’s throats. Can’t you two just get along?”

“I know I can,” you say and cross your arms.

“I know I can,” Dean mocks you in a faux female voice.

You resist the urge to throw something at his fucking smug face.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed with you two.”

“Fine.”

You grab your bathroom bag and lock yourself in the bathroom to do your nighttime routine. It takes twenty minutes to complete the entire routine, and you leave the bathroom once you feel refreshed and ready for bed. You grab your moisturizer and lift your right leg to rub the lotion onto your skin. Dean peeks at you from over the gun he’s cleaning. After doing your right leg, you do your left leg and Dean doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.

You put the lotion aside and crawl into bed between the two brothers. Dean finishes with his gun and puts it away to crawl in next to you. Sam is already snuggled under the covers with a book in his hand.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters.

“What?”

“You expect me to lay here and smell that girly shit?”

“If you don’t like it, sleep on the couch,” you smirk.

“Both of you, shut up and go to sleep,” Sam scolds you two like children.

Sam is the first to fall asleep since he can fall asleep anywhere, but you and Dean are a different story. You always have trouble falling asleep in beds that are not your own and this is no exception. It doesn’t help you’re in the middle of a Winchester sandwich. Sam is a heavy sleeper so he doesn’t feel you moving to get comfortable, but Dean does. He had to be a light sleeper to look after Sam so he can’t sleep unless you’re still.

“If you’re going to keep moving, go to the couch,” he hisses.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

Dean rolls onto his side, grabs your hips, and pulls you into him. You freeze the second you feel his hard cock on your ass. Dean’s hot breath falls over your ear and neck causing shivers to rave down your spine.

“Stop moving and go to sleep.” It’s kind of hard to go to sleep now when you can feel every inch of Dean’s cock pressed between your ass cheeks. You shift as you try to think about anything else, but him and you end up pressing your ass further into him. Dean’s teeth nip at your ear and he growls his next words. “Do not move.” Okay, now you’re moving just to piss him off. You can play him so easily. Dean’s hand slides over your hip to the front of your body where he presses his fingers to your clothed pussy. That causes you to still. “If you want to play this game, sweetheart, I’ll play this game. One rule. Don’t wake Sam.”

Dean’s hand slips underneath your silk pajama shorts, pleased to find you’re wearing skimpy cotton panties. He passes the cotton barrier and presses his fingers against your clit. You jerk against his body but he holds onto you tightly so you don’t move much. He runs two fingers down the length of your slit, gathering the wetness he feels.

“I haven’t even touched you and already, you’re so wet for me.”

He pushes one thick finger into you, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sam would kill you if he knew what was happening mere inches away from him. Dean pushes in a second finger and curls them to press against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly.

“Do you feel what you do to me? You get me so fucking hard. It takes everything I have not to bend you over and fuck that attitude out of you,” he whispers against your ear.

It’s somehow hotter that he’s whispering to you instead of speaking normally. So intimately… so close.

“So do it,” you smirk.

Dean slams his fingers into you rapidly and rubs your clit in hard small circles. The pressure is becoming too much not to make noise, and you arch your back as much as possible. It’s a good thing Sam is a heavy sleeper otherwise he’d hear your heavy breathing and slick sounds from your pussy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you whimper.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me? Hmm?”

You can’t respond to him even if you want to. The pressure builds deep in your core, and he can feel you tightening around his fingers. Fuck, he can only imagine what you’d feel like around his cock and tongue. Next time. His cock is rock hard and pressing against your ass, begging for release, but he’s not going to take care of him until he takes care of you.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. I got you.”

He circles your clit hard and the pressure inside of you explodes, and you feel your entire body start to float from ecstasy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches as you come, and he continues to thrust his fingers in and out to ride out your high. When he knows you have no more to give him right now, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to tease you. You don’t have to look at him to know he is sucking you off his own flesh.

“Damn, sweetheart. Next time, I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“That’s just another thing I’m better at than you.”

“What thing?”

“Making you come,” he smirks. Your jaw drops several inches at his remarks, and he lets you go to give you some space. He turns over in the bed so that his back is facing you instead of his chest. “Go to bed.”

How the hell can you think about sleeping now when all you can think about is Dean and the possibilities he and his cock can give you?

x

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[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 12 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

A/N: Get ready. . . 👀

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“Okay, you’re all set,” the paramedic says, patting my shoulder. He crumples the packaging of the butterfly closure strips he just used on my cheek up in his fist and throws it into the trash can next to us.

I sigh and shoot him a thankful smile before hopping off the stretcher and climbing out of the back of the ambulance.

As it turns out, none of my injuries are life threatening. My stomach is just bruised and the cut on my cheek isn’t as deep as I originally thought it was.

If I’m honest, my confidence to beat Ghostface again is actually what took the biggest hit. I’m in my prime, physically, and I thought I knew what I was getting into, but this Ghostface is different than Amber and Richie.

He is more. . . rutheless, and the way he fights makes me believe he has some kind of professional training.

“Y/N!”

Oh no.

I slowly turn around to face a fuming Sam. Now that the initial worry has worn off she’s mad and I’m not at all surprised when she shoves me after brushing past another paramedic to get to me.

“Hey, calm down.” I lift my hands placatingly, but she’s not having it.

She scowls and glares incredulously. “Calm down?” she hisses. “Calm down? You almost got yourself killed with that little stunt of yours back there. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

I glace over her shoulder to see Tara watching us with a smug look and her arms crossed over her chest. She sees me looking at her and I silently plead she’ll come over and get Sam to back off, but she doesn’t. She just looks away and I feel my stomach sink.

This is definitely payback for earlier when I didn’t defend her against Sam.

Little shit.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?! All I wanted was to get you and Tara out of there and I did. You’re both okay,” I argue, turning my attention back to Sam.

She scoffs and pokes my shoulder, stepping closer so we’re almost chest to chest. “And what about you?! Huh? You could have gotten killed!”

Usually I’d be nervous if she was standing this close, but right now I’m simply exhausted and irritated. Why can’t she just say thank you for what I did and move on? Besides, I’m fine!

“But I wasn’t,” I shoot back, looking down at her with as much defiance as I can muster. “I’m still here, am I not?”

“So, what? You’re just going to keep putting yourself in danger until you inevitably do get yourself killed? Do you have no sense of self preservation?” she spits, the fury in her eyes taking me by surprise for a moment.

Why is she so mad? I saved her life!

“If it is to make sure you and Tara are safe then yeah!”

Silence.

Sam stares at me with wide eyes and takes a step back before whispering, “You would die for us? For me?”

Exasperated, I throw up my hands. “Of course, Sam! Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

It’s true, I would die for either of them. Not that I want to, of course, I like being alive, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather it be me than them.

That’s how much I love them. That’s how much I love Sam.

All the fight leaves Sam’s body and she just stares at me with confusion written all over her face. There’s also something else in her eyes, but I can’t quite place it.

Why is it so hard for her to believe it? I almost died saving Tara twice before, so why would that have changed? Why wouldn’t I do the same for her?

“But. . . Why?” she croaks which makes me huff in disbelief.

Is she seriously asking that?

Because I fucking love you, I want so scream, but before I can open my mouth a police officer steps between us.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Detective Bailey is asking for you guys at the station and I’ve been told to give you a ride,” he says politely and I look at Sam one more time to see she’s lost in thought before nodding and following him to his squad car.

I slide into the middle seat next to Tara who’s already in the car and nudge her with an unamused look for leaving me alone with Sam before letting her hug my arm for comfort. Sam gets in as well a moment later and we spend the drive to the police station in silence.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Sam says quietly, getting to her feet and pointing at her now vacant chair. “Just take a seat. We’ve been here for hours and you haven’t stopped pacing once.”

We’re alone in an interrogation room and there are pictures of the latest Ghostface killings on the table. I can’t stand to look at them any more and I’m beyond tired, so to keep myself distracted and awake I pace around. Well, until now.

Sam eyes me expectantly, her arms crossed over her chest, but I just shake my head.

Tara is asleep with her head on the table, and I know I won’t be able to sit still when I sit down and I don’t want to risk waking her.

I also know that tonight’s been a lot for Sam, even more than for me, so she should really be the one sitting down.

“Y/N. . .” she warns, but I just shake my head again.

“You’re tired, you sit down. I’m fine on my feet,” I say only to yawn a second later.

“Are you now?” she deadpans and I sigh, turning to resume my pacing.

I don’t get very far though because before I know what’s happening, Sam’s grabbed my elbow and dragged me to the chair.

She pushes me to sit down on it, and I’m about to protest and stand right back up when she plops down on my lap.

“Just sit. . .” she mumbles.

My brain short circuits and I freeze, feeling my heart race in my chest when she leans back against me, resting her head on my chest.

I know I could easily get her off me and stand up, but I don’t dare to move.

What the fuck is happening?

At the bodega she was about ready to rip my head off and now she’s doing this, whatever this is. . .

We haven’t been this close since we were kids and she snuck into my room and I don’t know how to react, or where to put my hands. I can just hope she can’t hear how fast my heart is beating.

I have to admit, she feels warm and the smell of her perfume brings me an unexplainable comfort, but I’m currently more awake than I’ve been all night even though the opposite seems to be true for her.

She lets out a deep breath and gets more comfortable on my lap and when I hesitantly wrap my arms around her middle so they’re not just awkwardly hanging by my side she puts her hands over mine and interlaces our fingers.

What is happening?!

The resolve I had to stay away from her so as to not get hurt again is dwindling, leaving me utterly confused.

I don’t know what I want anymore, but I do know that it feels right to have her this close.

Still, I want to ask her what she’s doing since she’s with Danny— or is she?— but I don’t get the chance because before I can pluck up the courage to do it, the door flies open.

Tara jerks awake and sits up with wide eyes, frowning momentarily when she sees the position Sam and I are in before turning back to what I’m assuming is Quinn’s dad, Detective Bailey, who just walked in.

“Sorry for the long wait,” he says, closing the door behind himself. When he turns, he looks at Sam and me weirdly, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Still, it makes me feel uneasy, and I want Sam to get off me, but she just holds my hands tighter and shifts so she faces Bailey more directly as he sits down at the other side of the table.

He throws a Ghostface mask onto the table and says something about it having been found at the apartment crime scene. I don’t pay much attention because I’m still distracted by Sam sitting on my lap.

He also goes on to ask us all about our alibis and I only give a short answer, saying that I just got into the city and that I was with Sam and Tara the rest of the night.

“Was the party before or after this?” he asks Sam and I tense underneath her when he shows us a video of Sam trying to lunge at the girl who threw her drink on her.

Where did he even get that?

Sam squeezes my fingers, but her voice is level when she replies, “Before. . .”

Tara huffs. “The point is we were with people all night.”

Bailey nods, although it seems almost reluctantly and it’s silent for a moment before Sam asks the question I’ve been meaning to ask myself ever since we got here.

“So, our roommate’s dad just happened to pull our case?” she asks and I see something like irritation flash in Bailey’s eyes before he answers.

“The detective who had the case offered it to me because it involves Quinn. But I can totally give it back if you’re uncomfortable,” he says and the way he says it almost makes it sound like a challenge.

Of course it makes sense that he’d work on this case, but my gut tells me that something’s not right about this whole thing.

I could also just be tired and hungry though, after all, I’ve been up for almost twenty four hours now and the last time I ate something was back at Liam’s which was just some leftover chocolate cake.

The two sisters share a look, Tara seemingly skeptical of the situation, but then Sam sighs and relaxes back against me, saying, “It’s fine.”

Bailey nods and he looks almost smug and I frown for a moment, but then he goes on to talk about Sam’s stolen license and I zone out again.

That is until the door opens once again and a uniformed officer tells Bailey that the FBI is here, claiming jurisdiction over the case.

The FBI?

“What?” Bailey clenches his jaw and gets to his feet. “Where are they?”

He leaves the room without looking back and as soon as he’s gone, I let out a long sigh. This is not how I thought my trip to New York would turn out.

“This is all so messed up,” Tara whispers.

“Yeah.” Sam nods and for a couple of seconds we sit in silence. Chatter from outside the interrogation room is the only thing to be heard, well, that and the clock ticking on the wall above us until Sam gets to her feet, pulling me up by my arm as well.

“What are you—?” I start but she’s already dragging me to the door.

“I want to know what’s going on,” she says.

Tara shrugs when I look at her, and before I know it the three of us are standing in the hallway where Bailey and a blonde woman I don’t recognize are in the middle of a conversation.

“Kirby?” Sam asks, letting go of my arm.

“Hey, Sam,” the blonde— Kirby— says, sending Bailey a placating smile before pulling Sam into a hug. “Tara. . .” She smiles at the younger Carpenter before shifting her attention to me. “Oh, and Y/N, hey.”

Kirby, Kirby, Kirby. . . Why does that sound so familiar?

“You guys know each other?” Bailey asks with a somewhat displeased look.

“Yeah, we went to Woodsboro High together,” Sam explains, the surprise of seeing the blonde still present on her face. “She was a senior when Y/N and I were freshman.”

Ah, yes. That’s why her name rings a bell.

The two of us never really saw that much of each other around school, but now that I know who she is I remember her from back then.

Wow. . . That feels like forever ago. I’m really getting old.

An officer walking by and handing Bailey another Ghostface mask in an evidence bag, this time from the bodega, cuts our trip down memory lane short.

It turns out it belonged to Charlie Walker and Jill Roberts, both of whom were Ghostfaces which makes me feel uneasy.

Two Ghostface masks belonging to previous Ghostfaces have been found now, and it’s pretty obvious that it’s not a coincidence.

The question is though, why would the current Ghostface leave them at the crime scenes and how did he get his hands on them in the first place.

Aren’t those masks evidence? Shouldn’t they be locked up at a police station somewhere?

“Whoever’s doing this,” Kirby says, snapping me out of my thoughts, “is a student of the killers who came before. . . Maybe he believes Sam is the latest in a long line.”

Excuse me?! Sam is not Ghostface.

I gape at Kirby, but Tara and Sam don’t seem too surprised by what the blonde just said.

This is definitely part of what I’m still missing. . .

Sam grabs my arm again and goes to brush past Bailey and Kirby, saying, “Good luck with that, but we’re getting out of town,” only to be stopped by Bailey who steps in her way and says, “That’s not possible. You’re all persons of interest in a double homicide, so you’re not allowed to leave town.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, speaking up for the first time since telling him about my alibi.

Kirby nods with an apologetic look, trying to convince us to just work with them to get this solved as quickly as possible, but Sam just shakes her head.

“Yeah, no. We’re leaving.” She spins around and leaves, and Tara and I are quick to follow her only to run into Gale Weathers and a whole bunch of other reporters outside.

It’s a struggle to get through them, especially getting past Gale who since writing her book on what happened is dead to me, but after Tara punches her we manage to flag down a cab and get away.

When her book first came out, I was a little irritated because she said she wouldn’t write about what happened, but then I read it and I was furious. She portrayed Sam as unstable and a born killer, which made me furious, and then she even tried to get an interview with me to talk about it which I, of course, refused.

I’m so tired, I bet I could fall asleep standing up right now. I just got out of the shower at Sam’s and Tara’s and am now pulling on the clothes they lent me. Well, technically they’re Chad’s because his are the only clothes that fit me, but he’s got them stored here for emergencies.

Originally, I wanted to go to Liam’s to get my stuff, but I couldn’t risk Ghostface following me and potentially finding out about Liam.

Then, my second thought was to go out and buy some stuff while Sam and Tara went to meet the others on campus to talk about what’s going to happen next, but Tara refused to let me go alone.

Which is how I ended up here, in Sam’s room, half dressed in a pair of loose jeans, with damp hair and an aching stomach.

I can’t find the sweater Tara tossed my way earlier, so I just take a seat on the edge of the bed and close my eyes, trying to indulge in this little moment of peace while the other’s are in the living room and in the kitchen making dinner.

I know now that the reason Sam was assaulted by that girl is because there’s rumors going around that she instigated all the murders in Woodsboro and then framed Richie for them. It also clears up why Kirby said people think Sam is a Ghostface, however it doesn’t explain why I haven’t heard about this until now— until Ethan mentioned the rumors online which led me to go down a rabbit hole on my phone before showering.

I’m appalled by it, and mad that people even consider believing this shit, but I’m also disappointed that neither Tara nor Sam told me about it.

The door creaks open behind me, but I don’t open my eyes or turn around until I hear Sam clear her throat softly.

I wasn’t expecting her, so I’m quick to get up and look for the sweater since I’m still half naked.

“Looking for this?” she asks quietly as she picks the sweater off the floor on the other side of the bed.

Ah, that’s where it went.

“I— Yeah,” I take it from her with a tight-lipped smile and quickly put it on, not missing the way her eyes dart to my scars before I cover them.

I don’t like how awkward things are between us, and I don’t like how confused I am about my feelings for her.

Her sitting on my lap at the police station is one thing, she could have just been tired and clingy after what happened, but this, the intense way she’s looking at me right now. . . That is something else entirely.

I love her. I love her more than anyone, but I don’t want to get hurt again.

“You know,” she says with vulnerability seeping into her voice. “I don’t actually hate you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I— Okay. I mean, I wasn’t thinking you did, but. . .”

She chuckles sadly and shakes her head. “Not now, no, but—“ she runs her hands through her hair, “—years ago, you stopped me from going home with that guy, Josh, I think was his name. You stopped me from doing something I would have regretted for the rest of my life a-and I threw it in your face. I told you I hated you and I never forgot about it.“

When our eyes meet, I see tears glistening in her eyes, making me frown as I take a step forward.

“Sam. . .” I whisper, but she averts her shame-filled eyes. “I know you didn’t mean it. Even back then, I knew. You were hurting and you needed someone to blame, so you blamed me because I was closest to you. It stung, yes, but I never held it against you. If I’m honest, I even forgot about it until you just brought it up.”

“But then why do you hate me now?” she asks, her voice cracking.

She’s still not looking at me, so I close the distance between us and tentatively brush my fingers against her cheek. “What are you talking about? I don’t hate you.”

She unconsciously leans into the touch, her watery eyes finally meeting mine again. “Then why are you shutting me out? After what happened last year I thought we were fine, but then. . . after Christmas you started acting weird a-and I don’t understand why.”

Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. I never meant to hurt her by keeping my distance. All I wanted to do was protect my heart.

I let my hand drop off her cheek and clench my jaw.

I’m so tired of this cat and mouse game. I don’t want to get hurt again, but she deserves to know the truth. I mean, what better time is there than now? We could all die tonight, and I’m not prepared to take this secret to the grave with me. After all, I was already going to tell her last night before we were interrupted and taken to the station.

“Because. . . I love you,” I whisper shakily.

Sam’s eyes widen but I continue before she can say anything.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, Sam. It’s always been you, but I’ve kept my distance these last nine months because I realized that you don’t��and will never— feel the same way about me. I never meant to hurt you in the process. . .”

I shudder. There’s no turning back now. For a moment Tara’s muffled laugh from the living room and the heartbeat in my ear are the only things I can hear.

“How would you know?” Sam croaks, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Know what?” I ask, frowning at her lack of reaction.

Her eyes dart over my face, searching for. . . I don’t even know what.

“That I don’t feel the same way?” she whispers, stepping closer.

“What?” I was expecting everything but that. “I don’t—“

“You’re such an idiot,” she mumbles, surging forward and kissing me.

I choke in surprise, my hands flailing around for a split second before my eyes fly shut and my arms find their way around her waist.

This is everything I ever dreamed of and more. Her lips taste like the cherry lip-balm she likes, making me swoon, and her fingers digging into my neck send shivers down my spine.

If she wasn’t as pressed against me as she is, I’m sure my knees would give out under me.

As great as this is though, I can’t help but suddenly think of Danny and I pull back right before she can deepen the kiss.

“Sorry.” She pants against my lips, resting her forehead against mine. “I shouldn’t have just—“

“No.” I shake my head. “I-It’s okay. . . More than okay actually.” We both chuckle. “But what about Danny?”

She sighs and pulls back enough to look at me, her fingers playing with the damp hair at the back of my neck. “I told you. We’re not a thing. We used to fool around for a while, but now we’re just friends.”

“Friends?” I ask skeptically.

“Yes, friends.” She shoots me a knowing look, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “He’s always wanted more, but I told him it’s not happening because I’m in love with someone else. . . I’m in love with you.”

I know she’s basically already said it, but hearing her actually say it makes me gasp softly which in turn makes her smile a watery smile.

“I love you,” she whispers again, pecking my lips. “Always have and always will. I just— I never told you because when I realized it, it was right before I found out who my real dad was and I didn’t want to drag you into it. Then, I left for five years and when I came back, I didn’t think I deserved to tell you. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most, but then we were getting over it and I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d get a chance to tell you after all. . . and then you started shutting me out.“

I chuckle in disbelief and pull her into a hug, burying my nose in her hair. “I shut you out because you never reacted to what Richie said and then you said all that stuff about long distance relationships and—“

“I didn’t say anything about what Richie said because I didn’t think he was actually right. After everything I’d done, I just didn’t believe that you could ever be in love with me,” she argues weakly, tightening her arms around my neck. “And the whole long distance stuff, I just— I wasn’t talking about you. With anyone else, I wouldn’t want it, but with you?! You’re the exception to every rule.”

Well damn. If only we’d talked sooner.

I sniffle and blink back a wave of tears before pulling back to look at her again.

Tara’s going to be so proud of us.

“I love you,” I say, feeling my heart flutter at the way her eyes sparkle when I say it.

She moves her hands from the back of my neck to my jaw, her thumb gently touching the cut on my cheekbone. It makes my skin tingle and when she whispers, “I love you, too,” I lean down to brush my lips against hers.

She hums and goes to deepen the kiss, but then a scream from the living room makes us jump apart.

_______________________________________________

And BAM! There it is! It finally happened, people! We kissed. Be honest, was it a little rushed, or are you guys happy with it?

Writing it, it felt a little rushed but we’re twelve chapters in now, so I think the timing’s okay.

Anywayyy, hope you liked it!

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[rivendell-poet]

Hihi! Can I please have headcanons with the fellowship and Thorin's company having a short (like 5 feet) human s/o. And they be part of the fellowship/company, please? Please take as much time as you need!💕

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, and I'm so sorry it took so long. Also, thank you so much for the last part - it's small but means a lot 💕 (should be doing one for Thorin's company as well)

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Can be read as platonic or romantic | Wordcount : 1.7k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ He’s the person you have the largest height difference with. Because he’s weirdly tall. 

✧ When the two of you stand next to each other Pippin will sometimes stare. He’s confident that one of you isn’t truly human. Who that is depends on the day.

✧ Aragorn isn’t really bothered by it, cares more about if you can handle yourself on the battlefield.

✧ Does make sure that you have the weapons you need constantly.

✧ Knows it’s probably difficult to find the right sized ones, so after a battle he can be found sharpening yours (generally while humming something).

✧ Has forgotten about the height difference once when you were cold and he gave you his cloak.

✧ Tried very hard not to laugh when you become completely swamped in the fabric and almost fall over.

✧ (He mainly succeeds.)

✧ Will fetch anything you need off the high shelves, and always puts it back on the lower shelves.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Closest of the ‘big people’ in terms of height difference. Not that that means much, because he’s still six feet.

✧ Is constantly asking you to describe the flowers you find. If they’re at a stage he finds it ok, will ask you to pick them up and hand it to him.

✧ Always tells you to ‘watch your head’ whenever he goes through a hallway he has to duck under. Has yet to correct himself on doing this.

✧ Treats your height a lot like he does Gimli’s, except he gets used to you slightly quicker.

✧ If you have not packed a bow he is very sad you can’t do archery together.

✧ Scours places for bows of your size with a slightly worrying intensity.

✧ Eventually, after the war is over, he commissions you one. It’s very beautiful, with dark wood and a gold leaf inlay of the different places you’ve been and enemies you’ve fought.

✧ Is actually a very good archery instructor, treats you how he would the others and it works out.

✧ Will fetch you anything from the high shelves, you just have to ask him first.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Closest in height to you. Is very relieved to find someone else of a normal height when surrounded by everyone else.

✧ You’re taller than he was, but he doesn’t care. Just happy that even though you’re taller than him you’re still almost on the same eye-level.

✧ Is very smug to the others that his weapon is around the same height as you - so the easiest to pick up. And with the best tutor.

✧ Does try to teach you how to use the axe, in some ways is a very good teacher but not all the time. Good offensively, lacking some defensive manoeuvres.

✧ Tries hard to learn your fighting style if you offer to teach him.

✧ Always insists you get first pick of everything when the Fellowship find items that can fit the two of you.

✧ When running across the plains the both of you blame the other one for being the slowest. Both of you also claim to be the better sprinter, neither of you have intentions of proving this claim.

✧ Would happily get you something from the high shelf if he could reach it. Has tried to convince you to climb up via him to get something instead of asking for help.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Along with Aragorn, he also doesn’t make a very big deal of it. You were trusted to be in the Fellowship, what else matters?

✧ You like to sometimes pretend you can’t see the height difference between Aragorn and Boromir and insist Boromir is the taller one. Both men know you’re probably faking, but neither correct you (for different reasons).

✧ Asks you for help to teach the hobbits how to spar, for example if a certain move he wants to teach them would be too risky - and what your advice is.

✧ Has supervised matches between you, Merry, and Pippin before. To your surprise he actually gives genuine, entirely unbiased feedback to all of you.

✧ Small part of him is amused by the fact his shield covers most of you. Would never say that out loud.

✧ (Boromir also finds it comforting, because it just means that it will be easier to protect you.)

✧ Very occasionally sketches out shield designs for you, if he has a lot of free time with most others being asleep. Writes the symbolism behind them in the margins.

✧ Will happily fetch you things from the high shelf. Puts them back onto the same high shelf out of instinct, then realises what he’s done and puts them onto a lower one you can reach.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Believes (lies to himself) that one day he may be as tall as you.

✧ Therefore constantly asks about how different life is when you’re as tall as you are (at the start of the Fellowship) despite the fact you’re only a foot and a bit above him.

✧ He insists that being your height will solve a lot of the problems he has in life. Merry says it’s better to just humour him.

✧ Has asked for piggy-back rides from you a few times. When you finally agree his eyes light up, there is pure joy as he sees the world from your perspective.

✧ After the entdraught one of his first thoughts is of you.

✧ Pippin wants to be taller than you. When he sees you again he runs straight into you, pulling you into a hug and then seeing if he has to look up to meet your height.

✧ Is crushed when he realises you’re still taller than him. Although he is around 4’8” now - so there’s much less of a height difference.

✧ Can finally reach the same shelves you can, and gives you the items from them even if you were just getting them.

✧ Has tried to climb up a shelving unit before to get to the top shelves. It ended as well as you think it did.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Very surprised by your height, but also very enthusiastic. Didn’t think he’d ever be able to have conversation with a big folk without them constantly looming over him.

✧ Finally has someone other than Pippin he can show the little alcoves to, and then can spend time with them there.

✧ Every so often he’ll underestimate your height and you won’t be able to fit in - he’s always very apologetic when this happens.

✧ Only person who offers his cloak, and it’s actually a reasonable size for you. Slightly short but better than the other options, so you gladly take it.

✧ The thought of him being taller than you after taking the entdraught doesn’t even occur until he sees you again. Keeps his intentions fairly well hidden.

✧ Does the same thing he did with Pippin - ‘subtly’ measuring your height with his hand. Vehemently denies everything if caught doing it.

✧ Asks you about your tailors and if you own any patterns once he’s nearer your height. For the first few months you can see a lot of your stylistic choices find their way into Merry’s wardrobe.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelf if he could. Alas, he cannot - and he also values his dignity enough to not try and climb them.

✧ (Has secretly climbed them once with Pippin. The reason he doesn’t do it again is because he knows it will fail.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Still thinks you're tall enough for the height difference to be slightly intimidating. He isn’t scared of you, it just comes from the tallest person he knew before you being around four feet.

✧ Other than that he treats you as he would everyone else, most respectfully and always looking out for your best interests.

✧ You are the person he goes too instinctively if he needs someone slightly taller than himself. Is always very apologetic about it, and promises to make it up to you.

✧ Generally makes it up to you by giving you one of the best portions of whatever he’s cooked for the night. Often with ingredients you managed to find for him.

✧ Also searches places to see if they’ll have weapons of the correct size for you.

✧ Is just as good as the people actually trained in combat, although it’s because he’s closer to your height - not because of his martial prowess.

✧ After the cave troll fight you’re the one he goes too, shyly asking if you’ll give him a few lessons.

✧ Sam is a very diligent student, and always gives you a bright smile every time. Thanking you for letting him protect Mr. Frodo that bit better.

✧ Unfortunately, he needs you to get him things from the ‘high shelves’ - but he would certainly help you if he could.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Subtle and polite look of amazement the first time he sees you, internally checking your height compared to his.

✧ He is somewhat sad that you’re just too tall to appreciate a lot of his walking sticks. Does find one or two in Bilbo’s collection that could be given to you.

✧ Always touched whenever you find him a ‘walking stick’ esque branch, although it’s sometimes slightly too tall for him.

✧ Often points out flowers and other beautiful things to you and Sam, because you’ll have the best view of it.

✧ After Aragorn, you’re his go-too person to hide behind and ask for protection. He feels bad about it the first few times, but you’re always there to reassure him.

✧ You and Aragorn have both moved in front of Frodo for protection at the same time. Always a moment of awkward silence and then shuffling into a decent position for the both of you.

✧ When seeing you, Pippin, and Merry all laughing together - one of them reaching out and ruffling your hair - he is somewhat envious about them now being around your height.

✧ However, he’s also grateful that he’s kept the same height. So Frodo isn’t too sad about it.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelves, although in reality you need to fetch things for him.

A/N : Hopefully you enjoyed, not entirely sure why this one turned out so platonic. But I am making one for thorin's company and I'll try make that one more obviously romantic. Thanks so much for reading and requesting!

Update : Here is the one for Thorin's company <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Okay imagine you’re on your period all curled up on the couch half asleep when Sam decides to dress vinnie up in this cute little teddy bear onesie to try and make you feel better. You wake up to this chubby little baby bear on your belly cuddling your tummy, he’s tapping your tummy in mimicry like you do to him when he needs comforting (Sam told him you’re not feeling well) and Sam’s in the background smiling before you force him to join in too

- 🌺 (ps I missed ya too pooks!! You’re the best writer ik!!)

Author's note: it took a while to write nonnie, I hope you don't mind :))

FLUFF ❦

Period. An enemy for most of the women. An enemy to you, especially in this month. Half-asleep, curled up on the couch, a heating pad was pressed to your aching lower belly, while you were wrapped in the coziest blanket Sam could find in his house. He'd literally stumble over the stairs, getting his mom to help cus, in his words, you were ‹dying›. Well, maybe you actually were. The cramps are awful, and you are in that hazy space between exhaustion and discomfort, barely aware of the world around you.

Until you feel something warm and small settle onto your belly.

A soft little pat pat pat of the entire hand, occasionally being replaced by the tiny fingertips.

Your eyes blinked open sluggishly, and the first thing you saw was a brown fur. Confused as heck, you lifted your head just lightly—and then you see him.

Vinnie.

Dressed in a full-on teddy bear onesie, the hood slightly askew over his chubby face, those big, doe eyes staring up at you as his tiny, pudgy hands continued to pat pat pat your tummy like you always did for him when he'd be fussy.

Your heart physically melted into a puddle

“Told him you weren’t feeling good. He took it real serious.” voice came from the doorframe, and when your gaze moved to that spot, there was your beloved, very punk, boyfriend, wearing that smug, kind of sheepish smirk on his lips

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to cry over how cute this is. Your hormones are literally a mess. Vinnie let out a little babble, tiny hands still tapping your stomach like he was personally trying to cure you with his sheer baby energy...or by simple doing something that became a tradition for him

"Oh my god," you whispered, weakly reaching out to cup your boy's soft, plush-covered cheeks. "You are soooo cute..so cute" you mumbled, making Vinnie giggle.

Your heart can't take this. Your heart can't take this. Your heart can't take this

Letting go of Vinnie's cheek, you whined "Sam..come here..I need you"

“Babe, this is your moment, I—”

"Sam. Monroe. Get your ass over here and cuddle me."

Sam sighed dramatically, yet, he’s already moving, taking steps before climbing onto the couch behind you. His arms wrap gently around you both, as if he was kind of afraid to hurt you, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched Vinnie go back to his very important pat pat mission.

"Better?" he murmured into your hair.

You leaned back into him, nuzzling against the warmth of his chest, and sighed like the happiest girl on earth. "Yeah."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy-deactivated20250 @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[vacate-et-scire]

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹Baby Whats My Name◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

There are moments Jason never thought he’d get. The quiet ones, the soft ones. The ones that don’t come with gunpowder in the air or sirens wailing in the distance.

But right now, it’s just the two of you, tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his chest, his fingers idly tracing shapes against your back. The TV hums in the background, some late-night show neither of you are really watching, but neither of you bothers turning it off.

And then, out of nowhere, you say, “So… what do you think of the name ‘Samuel’?”

Jason blinks. His fingers still against your back. “For what?”

“For a kid.”

His whole body tenses for half a second before he forces himself to relax. Not because the thought of kids scares him (okay, maybe a little), but because he wasn’t expecting this conversation at 11:42 PM on a Tuesday.

You shift, propping your chin on his chest so you can look at him properly. “I mean, we’ve talked about having kids before. Might as well get a head start on names, right?”

Jason squints at you. “Are you—?”

“No, I’m not pregnant.” You roll your eyes, amused. “I’d tell you if I was.”

He exhales, a little more relieved than he wants to admit. Not because he doesn’t want kids. But because if that day ever comes, he wants to be prepared. He wants to be ready.

Still, he hums, considering. “Samuel’s not bad. Sam. Sammy.” He shrugs. “Yeah, I could get behind that.”

You smile, clearly pleased with yourself. “Okay, your turn.”

Jason exhales, tilting his head back against the couch. “What about… Elliot?”

You raise a brow. “Elliot Todd?”

He nods. “Sounds solid. Smart. Plus, if the kid hates it, they can go by Eli or Lio or something.”

You tilt your head, considering. “I like it.” Then, after a pause, you add, “I was expecting something way more dramatic from you, though.”

Jason smirks. “Like what?”

You wave a hand. “I don’t know. Something ridiculous. Like Maximus.”

Jason’s grin widens. “Now that would be a badass name.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “Our child is not going to be named after a gladiator.”

Jason snickers. “Fine, fine. No Maximus.” Then, after a beat, he says, “...What about a girl’s name?”

You perk up. “Okay. What about ‘Ivy’?”

Jason hums. “Pretty. Simple. Also, I know a certain someone in Gotham who might be very smug if we pick that.”

You snort. “True. She would take credit for it.”

Jason taps his fingers against your back, thinking. “What about ‘Rosa’?”

You blink. “Like… rose?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s got an old-school feel to it. Plus, ‘Rosa Todd’ sounds cool.”

You test it out under your breath. “Rosa Todd.” Then, you nod. “I actually really like that.”

Jason grins. “See? I do have taste.”

You roll your eyes but kiss his jaw in silent agreement.

Another moment of silence passes, warm and easy, before you nudge him again. “Okay. What if we just went full Gotham legacy and named our kid something over-the-top?”

Jason smirks. “Like?”

You grin mischievously. “Richard..?”

Jason groans so loudly you can’t help but laugh. “Absolutely the hell not, hat's a horrible idea” he says.

“Is it, though?”

“Yes,” Jason insists. “He would gloat for eternity.”

You shake your head, still laughing. “Alright, fine. No Richard.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Thank god.”

The two of you settle back into a comfortable quiet, your fingers tracing idle circles against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. It’s a silly conversation, maybe even premature, but the fact that you’re having it at all—that Jason’s letting himself have it—means something.

Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or next year, but one day, this won’t just be a conversation. It’ll be real.

And somehow, that thought doesn’t terrify him. Not like it used to.

He glances down at you, lips brushing against your forehead. “Y’know,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. When the time comes.”

You smile against his skin. “Yeah. We will.”

And for now, that’s enough.

[netscapenavigator-official]

“Ermm actually, we should not vote to send a message.”

Actually Betsy, take a look around the room. I’m a Tumblr Dot Com user just like you. I’m on this webbed site to make sure as many people as possible are forced to hear my unqualified and unasked-for opinions, whether they like it or not.

So you better believe that when the U.S. Government knocks on my door and says “it’s your civil duty to vote” I’m marching my ass straight down to my local elementary school gym and shoving my little opinionated vote into that ballot box with as much smugness as I possibly can.

Voting is the biggest, most official, most unqualified opinion I have, and the government is forced to bend over and just take it, so you better believe I’m not gonna miss the opportunity to shove my opinion so far down down Uncle Sam’s gullet that he won’t even have to shit it out.

Politics is the biggest opinion I get to have, and voting is the most people I’ll ever get to force to bear witness to it. It’s the epitome of all the bullshit I force my mutuals to suffer through on here.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: Inspired by this wonderful post. Thank you so much @tripthelightfandomtastic for some incredibly sexy dialogue and @edgingthedarkness for calling it to my attention 🤭

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. Jake x fem!reader / rough sex / sir kink / unprotected p in v sex / digital penetration / oral / brief overstimulation / use of gag / some name calling (brat, slut) / minor cock warming at the end / begging / possessiveness (nothing too major) / please let me know if I missed anything.

Apologies for any typos/ spelling mistakes.

Enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I need to sleep for at least 12 hours tonight.” Jake tells his twin, patting his pockets for his wallet to pay the bill. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Oh is that why you were being so pissy today?” Josh’s grin is smug as he finds his own wallet first and fishes his card out and tosses it onto the waiting bill before Jake can. “Makes sense.”

Jake’s eyes narrow and you fight a tiny smile, trying not to let your amusement show. Jake can be a little moody when he’s tired. And just… in general. 

“I’m the pissy one?” Jake counters, flicking Josh’s card off the bill and placing his own there instead. “I seem to be remembering things a little differently.” 

Jake’s tone is snarky – just a tiny bit more accusing than Josh’s had been. You already know that Jake had a… rough day today. He’d told you about it in the car – Josh had been demanding retake after retake and Sam had quote on quote, “disagreed with every fucking thing I said just for the hell of it.” In all honesty, knowing the Kiszkas, it had probably been all three of them being more difficult than necessary while Danny had to play mediator… Not that you’d said that to Jake. God, no. You’d only listened, allowing him to vent; nodded and frowned at the right moments. Clearly, tonight’s meal and a few drinks with Josh had done little to help Jake’s temper. 

Josh opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt. “I’m going to run to the restroom.” Both sets of matching eyes flash to you as you speak. Josh grins and Jake nods, sliding out of the booth to allow you to exit.  

In addition to his sour mood, Jake has been jittery the whole night. You’d noticed from the moment the two of you stepped into the bar that he had other things on his mind – whether it was a new song or riff or lyrics you couldn’t quite tell. But he was distracted. You know already how common it is that he grows restless, as if there’s so much energy buzzing beneath his skin that he’s hardly able to stand still. At first, it had almost been hard to be around when he got like this. His restlessness so palpable you could practically feel it coating your skin. At first, you would simply move to another room, allow him to sort himself out on his own. But after a little while, it became easier to tune him out – to still navigate around him when he gets like this. His aura has gravity of its own, you’ve come to discover. It’s hard to be apart from him for too long. 

He’ll deny it if you ask him if something is wrong. He’ll say he’s fine – that he’s not upset about today anymore and that he’s acting perfectly normal. So you don’t bother asking. Instead, you simply allow his energy to wash over you as you watch him interact with his twin at the booth. 

By the time you return, they seem to have momentarily put their little dispute on hold as they both turn to look at you as you approach the booth. 

“Are you ready, love?” Jake’s voice is smooth – neutral. Betraying nothing of the chaos that you know lies within. “We paid the bill while you were gone.” 

“Halfsies.” Josh supplies and Jake’s eyes cut to him for a moment before landing back on you. You nod, smiling at the two of them as they exit the booth in almost complete unison, each twin now holding himself in the exact same manner as the other as they prepare to leave. “It was nice actually getting to see you.” Josh continues as the three of you walk through the restaurant and to the door. “Jake always keeps you to himself when we’re home.”

Josh is teasing; you can tell by the slight dimple that has appeared on his left cheek as he speaks. But Jake tenses ever so slightly beside his twin as you all come to a stop on the sidewalk outside. The night air is warm – humid enough that it makes your skin feel sticky. The joys of a Tennessee summer. 

“He can be just a little selfish, I suppose.” You answer back, thinking nothing of it. But again, that energy around Jake seems to increase, his chocolate eyes flashing in the light spilling out into the air from inside the bar. 

“Am I not allowed to miss her when we leave?” Jake queries, slipping a heavy arm around your waist in such a way that it almost feels possessive. “Plus, I’m always stuck with you.” He says to his twin, grinning a little. “Who would blame me for wanting her to myself when we are home?”

Josh’s brow raises, a knowing glance shot towards you before he regards his twin. He senses Jake’s energy – the restlessness; senses that he could easily poke the bear and start a senseless argument that would no doubt descend into an actual fight. But he holds himself back, metaphorically biting his tongue as he gives Jake a little grin. 

“Can’t blame you at all, brother. Not at all.” His grin turns a little wicked. “But maybe you should share her more often – she was my friend first, afterall.”

So perhaps he hadn’t decided against poking the bear afterall. You fight the smile that threatens to overtake you, realizing that now might not be the time to pick sides by agreeing with Josh. He had been the one to know you first. He’d been the one to introduce you to Jake, even. But Jake needs no reminder of that little fact right now. 

“I see you plenty.” You offer, feeling the pointed squeeze of Jake’s fingers into your hip, “Plus, you constantly blow my phone up with texts. We talk plenty, Joshua.” 

Josh grins and shrugs his shoulders, looking pleased anyway. 

“Great seeing you.” Jake offers. “But I’m sick of you already.” 

Josh laughs, completely unaffected by his brother’s words. He’s used to it. He knows deep down Jake doesn’t mean them… too much.  

“Love you too, Jakey.” Josh grins at you – the exact same grin that Jake gave him just a moment ago. “Lovely to see you as always, Y/n. Hopefully someone lets me see you again before we leave.”

“I hope so, too.” You answer him, laughing just a little despite your best efforts.

Josh gives a theatrical sweeping bow before turning on his heel and disappearing to his Jeep, laughing the whole way. Jake scowls and tugs you away towards his own vehicle, that heavy arm still pointedly around your waist. 

He opens your door for you, a soft “Princess” leaving his lips as he dips his head a little. You grin and climb into the car and he closes the door behind you. 

Jake playing guitar is sinful. But Jake behind the wheel of a car? It’s downright indecent – something that no matter how many times you see it, it still gets you just a little. The thick muscles of his forearm twitch and move beneath his newly tan skin (thank you Europe tour) and the clench of his jaw as he watches the road has you clenching your thighs. To your credit, you only stare a little bit as he drives the two of you back to his house (His house, not yours. Something that once again feels pointed.) Neither of you speak much, the silence between the two of you just as comfortable as idle chit chat. Fleet Foxes flow softly from the speakers, filling the air between the two of you that seems to grow thicker and thicker with each passing moment. 

“See something you like?” 

You startle, eyes cutting up to see the curve of Jake’s lips as he continues staring out at the road ahead. Apparently you had been staring too much – enough for him to notice, anyway. Cheeks flushing, you shake your head in denial. 

“Just thinking.” 

His brow raises and it does nothing to quell the heat pooling in your lower belly.  “About?” He urges you on, tilting his head as if to hear you better.  You open your mouth to give a bullshit answer but he interrupts. “And don’t say work or the weather. I already know what you’re thinking.” Your jaw snaps shut. The fucker.  

“If you know, then why did you ask?” Your tone comes out a little brattier than you meant it to and Jake’s fingers tighten on the wheel. Seems that Josh isn’t the only one who’s going to poke the bear tonight. 

“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

A sharp exhale is the only evidence you have that Jake heard you. Refusing to give you a response, he flicks on the blinker to turn onto his street in a way that somehow seems snarky. It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling into his driveway and putting the car in park. Dark eyes turn to you, looking almost black in the dim light of the car. 

“Get out.” 

His tone leaves no space for arguing and you quickly unbuckle and stumble out of the car. Jake doesn’t wait on you – crossing the driveway to the front door in long strides, fishing for his key from his pocket. As you follow, you admire the broadness of his shoulders, the dominance within his gait alone, and yet another thrill of anticipation curls down your spine and settles between your thighs. He opens the door, not even sparing a glance backwards at you. He knows you’re following, knows you’ll follow him into the very depths of Hell if he asked. 

You expect him to pounce as the door closes. But instead, he merely slips his shoes off and places them neatly by the door. His keys and wallet are placed on the foyer table. Your shoes join his by the door. Then your purse on the hook. You walk deeper into the house, making your way into the kitchen – one eye on Jake as he moves about the space, orbiting you but not yet taking the step to touch you. It puts you on edge in an odd, delicious sort of way. He’s like a shark who’s scented blood; not yet going in for the kill, but instead waiting for the right moment to strike. You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself a glass of water from the sink. The cool liquid doesn’t at all soothe the fire running through your veins. 

Not a second after you place the glass on the counter, you finally feel the heat of him pressing up against your back. His arms circle your waist and his lips hover over the sensitive skin of your ear. 

“I don’t mean to be so possessive.” He murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Or pissy. ‘m sorry.” He mumbles, voice low. The heat in your belly simmers just a little, easing into something softer for a moment. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You answer him, tilting your head to the side as his kisses trail softly down your neck. 

Using his grip around your waist, Jake pulls you tighter against him. You tilt your head back towards him and he kisses you – soft but urgent. His hands caress your sides, your hips, then come up to cup your jaw as his tongue slips through your parted lips. He’s thorough, kissing you as if he’s savoring a meal. 

“Why are you being so sweet?” You’d been fully expecting a night of Jake using you to get all his frustration and energy out – an occurrence that you were more than looking forward to. His sweetness is a welcome surprise, though not at all how you saw this night going. 

He kisses along your jaw before seizing your earlobe between his teeth, nipping delicately before his mouth trails lower. His hips press into you and there’s no hiding the hard line of him in his pants, hot and pulsing against you. 

“I just want you to know how much I love you,” He whispers against your neck, giving you more kisses, “and how much I respect you,” another kiss. “because I'm gonna fuck you like I hate you.” 

All the air leaves your lungs and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. The earnestness and simplicity with which he utters such vulgarity is the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced, leaving your brain empty of anything beyond your desire for him. But he’s taking too long now, his sweet kisses no longer enough and leaving you hollow and aching for him to fulfill the promise of his warning. The words slip out from your lips unbidden. 

“Why don’t you get the fuck on with it, then?”

His body goes rigid for one beat, maybe two, and then he spins you impossibly fast, a hand against your stomach, pressing you back into the wall. He captures your wrists with the other, holding them prisoner above your head. 

“Fuckin’ brat.” He groans against your mouth and the rough timbre of his voice floods your veins with a wave of primal need for him. “This is the thanks I get for trying to be sweet to you?” His shoulders are tense, the muscles taut with pent up energy and frustration. You aren’t sure what it is that’s got him in such a state but you want to replace it all with lust. You want him to take it out on you – to give you the overwhelming pleasure that you know he’s capable of delivering. “Well?”

“Fuck me.” You demand in lieu of answering him and his eyes seem to come alive as his nostrils flare at your tone. “Sir.” You add, the word dripping with sarcasm, making a mockery of the title that he’s more than earned in the bedroom. 

His breathing changes and there’s a war in his eyes that you’re determined to win. He leans down, his face only inches from yours. “I don't think you know what you’re asking for, Princess.” The nickname, the growl of his words rumbles up through his chest and every nerve ending in your body flares to life. 

His mouth collides with yours in a kiss – a rough, demanding thing as he plunges his tongue between your lips, seizing your mouth as his. Lust strokes down your spine and wetness floods your panties as he takes your ass in his hands and hauls you up against his hips. Your back presses into the wall as you use it for leverage to get closer to him. You lock your legs around his waist as your hands settle on his shoulders, the muscles quivering beneath your touch. 

Heat floods your body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of you aflame as his lips trail down the column of your throat, nipping and biting as he goes. But they aren’t gentle as they had been before – no, the sting of his teeth lets you know that your neck will be a mess in the morning, a painting of swirling purples and reds that will stand as testament to how far you pushed him tonight. The hedonistic, lecherous part of you is only excited further by the thought.

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Jake walks backwards and turns you. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him where he’s going, your back hits the kitchen table. He hadn’t used as much force as you know he could have, but Jake had placed you hard enough onto the wooden surface that the breath in your lungs freezes for a moment as you glance up at his looming figure above you. He presses in close, roughly gripping your knees and shoving them apart so that he can walk forward and take up the space between them. 

“Hands above your head.” The words are rough – more of a growl than anything and you instantly comply, suddenly feeling unable to do anything other than what he asks of you. His fingers trail down your torso, his touch searing your skin even through the fabric of your blouse. His fingers trail underneath, slipping up your stomach and then behind your back. He tugs the blouse off you and onto the floor. With impressive skill, he then unhooks your bra behind your back and tosses it away as well, eyes now trained on the hard peaks of your nipples as you lay there exposed for him. He pauses, as if drinking in the sight of you, and impatience has you speaking before thinking once again. 

“You just going to stand there and stare?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you know that you’ve really done it now. Jake’s gaze turns wicked, his grin devilish, as he shakes his head at you. 

“Y’know you’re lucky,” He begins, stepping back from you and unbuckling his belt. His fingers work slowly to pull it from his belt loops. When he at last gets it free, he reaches down and grips your hands where they rest obediently above your head, “that you’re so pretty. Otherwise I wouldn’t put up with that fucking mouth of yours.” Slowly, teasingly, he wraps the leather of his belt around your wrists and then cinches it tight, securing your wrists tightly together and then placing them back down onto the table above your head. 

Your body tingles with sinful pleasure and excitement at the feeling of being bound, at being kept where he wants you. Despite your mouth saying things before you can think them through, you desperately want to please the man above you. You want to worship him, to give him anything and everything he could ever ask of you. You begin to respond to him but he silences you with a heavy hand over your mouth. 

“Careful, Princess. Before I make you shut up with my cock, yeah?” Eyes wide, you nod and Jake lifts his hand with a satisfied nod. “What do you say to me?”

“Yes sir.” The words are shaky, thick with lust. It takes all your focus to make your brain form the words, to make your lips form the correct sounds. You can hardly think beyond the lust swirling inside your head. 

Jake doesn’t reward you with praise for your compliance as he normally would and disappointment trickles through you for the briefest of moments. But then his mouth is on your nipple, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. He bites down and you whimper, core pulsing as his tongue swirls around the hard bud to soothe the sting. Then he’s trailing lower, searing kisses working their way down your belly until he reaches the waistband of your skirt. Jake bunches the fabric up around your hips, exposing your damp panties for him to admire. You wish desperately that he would take the damn skirt off completely but you know that you’re in no position to be making requests. 

“Look at you.” His words are honey sweet, dripping with thinly veiled desire. You can feel his hot breath on your clothed heat, his white teeth flashing as he grins up at you smugly. “You’ve ruined these poor things, haven’t you?”

You whimper as he trails the pad of his finger over your clothed clit, causing your hips to jump up towards his hand. Jake hooks his fingers in your panties with his left hand, shoving the fabric to the side – clearly unwilling to even take the time to pull them all the way off you. Then his other hand is hovering over your center, fingers running through your slick as he hums in approval. Without any more warning, he plunges a finger inside of you, curling upwards deliciously and instantly finding that spot inside of you that drives you crazy. 

You cry out, back arching up off the wooden table. Your hands lift up off the table and then slam back downwards, anything else feeling uncomfortable thanks to Jake’s belt keeping them bound.

“So responsive.” Jake shows no mercy, quickly sinking another finger inside of you. Distantly, your foggy mind realizes that – even though he promised to fuck you like he hates you, you know that he would never do anything without properly prepping you first. If you were able to focus on anything other than his fingers, you might have thanked him. Instead, all you can do is moan as he works you masterfully with his fingers. 

“Jake.” You plead as he abuses your sweet spot over and over, keeping you hovering over the edge of release. “Jake, please.” You beg again as he gives no indication that he’s heard you other than grinning devilishly. “Jake, I can’t- I need-” The words won’t form right no matter how hard you try, the agonizing pleasure proving to be too much. 

“I know exactly what you need.” Jake answers darkly, “But you’re not asking nicely, are you?”

Eyes clenched shut, you shake your head frantically. “Please, sir?” You try instead, hips bucking forward to try and find some sort of friction. “Please make me cum? Please, please, sir.” Even to your own ears you sound pathetic but you can’t be bothered to care. All you can think about is how badly you need to cum, how incredible his fingers feel. All you can think about is Jake. “Sir, please-” 

“Enough.” Jake’s fingers leave you, and you whimper loudly in protest. But you’re silenced as Jake suddenly tugs even harder on your panties. The fabric digs harshly into your skin, and then you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Jake rips them from you, and then he’s shoving the ruined fabric into your gaping mouth, silencing you as the taste of your own arousal floods your tongue. Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare at him. 

Jake, looking entirely too smug and pleased with himself, eases his fingers back into your aching cunt and has you back to the edge in mere seconds, your whimpers and cries muffled by the panties shoved between your lips. Finally, Jake’s mouth descends onto your clit, his fingers never once slowing or faltering as he sucks your clit mercilessly. Your orgasm swoops in – quick, overwhelming, the pleasure white hot as it rocks through your body. Muscles quivering, you scream through your make-shift gag as Jake moans into your pussy, his eyes closing as if the taste of you is a gourmet meal. 

When at last he pulls away, you're left there in a daze – aching for more of him already. Clearly just as desperate to feel you fully, Jake grips your hips and brings your ass to the edge of the table. With impressive speed Jake rips his shirt off over his head and then even quicker has his trousers off and discarded to the floor.

His cock – achingly hard and the head glistening with precum, has your mouth watering. He steps between your legs once more and instinctively your legs wrap around his waist, bringing your slick pussy to rsst his beautiful cock. Jake hikes your skirt up higher to your belly and then his left hand finds your hip – his grip bruising. Gripping his length in the other, Jake runs his cock through your folds, gathering your slick before nudging the blunt head against your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ take it.” He growls, sheathing himself fully inside of you at last. Jake groans deeply and you moan the best you can through your gag. Giving you no time at all to adjust, Jake’s pace is immediately brutal. After three hard thrusts, his cock brushing against your sweet spot each time thanks to the angle of your hips, the sting of him quickly bleeds into pleasure. The table creaks and groans beneath you, the legs screeching against the kitchen floor as Jake pounds into you.

"Such a slut." Jake groans, but somehow he makes the word seem like a compliment. The wet squelching sound coming from between your legs would be embrassing if Jake didn't look like he could fall apart already. "You like it when I treat you like this?"

You nod frantically in answer, loving every second and still wanting more.

"'Course you do." The words escape through gritted teeth, his voice shaky despite the hard persona he's putting on. "Shit, Y/n."

Jake’s gaze falls down between the two of you, eyes trained on where he moves in and out of you, his skin growing shiny with sweat. His hair sticks to his temples and the side of his neck, his necklaces swinging and clinking in the air between the two of you. “Look so fucking good stretched around my cock.” 

You can’t answer, the feel of him moving inside of you too perfect to think of anything else. Jake’s hips slap against yours, his impressive stamina allowing his pace to remain fast, mercilessly, without faltering for even a second. It doesn’t take long for the heat simmering in your lower belly to rise, your body plummeting once again, head first, towards your second orgasm. Jake’s mouth is open, his brows furrowing as his own release draws nearer and nearer. His hand reaches up and pulls your ruined panties from your mouth at last and instantly your cries – once muffled, echo throughout the room along with the sound of Jake’s skin slapping against yours.  

“Say my name when you cum.” Jake orders, his thumb finding your clit and circling the swollen bud. His touch isn’t gentle – the pace just as brutal as the pace of his hips slamming into yours. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you scream Jake’s name, the muscles in your body convulsing violently. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Y/n.” Jake’s pace finally begins to falter as your walls clench around him. Jake’s left hand braces against the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. A litany of curses and groans fills the air as Jake spills inside of you, the feeling of his hot release making your eyes roll back. Your body burns with pleasure – pleasure that is dangerously close to bleeding into hot agony from overstimulation. 

Finally, Jake stills, his cock softening inside of you as he breathes out shakily, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Still staying inside of you, the feeling of him there somehow comforting, Jake reaches up and unbinds your wrists. He brings each one to his lips in turn, kissing the red skin where the leather had been digging into you. 

“I love you.” He offers, his brown eyes now regarding you with a soft, almost sympathetic look. “My princess.” His fingers gently trace over your lips, his touch reverent.

“Love you more.” You murmur tiredly,

“Impossible.”

<fin>

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[ryngzmn]

what an idiot

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: you don’t listen to Dean after he gives you an order, and now he’s smug about it.

WORD COUNT: 668

WARNINGS: a little bit of swearing, not beta’d so there may be typos…

A/N: I had no idea what to make the title ugheklekwjfj. also would’ve loved to write more but I couldn’t think of anything 😭😭

prompt/idea requested by @0ffwiththeirh3ads !

“Y’need to listen to me next time.” Dean chastised you. He had been doing so for the last ten minutes.

All because he had told you not to waltz on into the vampire nest like you owned the place.

For context, you and Dean were hunting down a vampire nest.

Well, aspiring vampire nest considering there was really only four vampires. And you thought you could take them all on your own.

You remember Dean’s words so clearly: “Don’t go running in there without me.”

Of course you didn’t listen, you practically bolted in there while shouting “Who made you the leader?” after him.

Now that you think about it, you should’ve listened to him. Because now you were stuck with Dean patching up your injuries from trying to take on four vampires by yourself.

You could just feel the smug aura coming off of him in waves. He was fucking enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that he was able to scold you for not listening to him.

In your defense, he wasn’t the actual leader of whatever Godforsaken team you, Sam, Castiel, and Dean had named Team Free Will.

Dean probably just gave the title to himself, because he was the oldest. Well, oldest physically considering Castiel was a literal angel.

“Will you listen to me next time?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked over at him.

He was currently knelt down by your side so he could get better access to the deep gash on your torso as you sat on an uncomfortable motel chair.

You cleared your throat, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Dean tsk’d, shaking his head. “‘m gonna need a more definitive answer than that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Dean called everyone that. But he used it more on you to get under your skin.

And it worked, it worked so well.

You felt your head fall back, finding the popcorn-textured ceiling much more interesting than Dean all of the sudden.

You could feel his green eyes on you as he waited for your reply. You groaned before muttering a weak “yes,” under your breath.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear ya.” You grit your teeth, you could hear Dean’s smirk. You didn’t even have to look at him!

“Yes.”

That reply was much better than before, at least according to Dean it was, as he let out a small hum of contentment.

“Good,” He grinned, suddenly tugging on the makeshift stitch he had created to sew your wound tight.

You jumped in your seat as the sudden pain that shit through you. “Jesus Christ-!”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope, just me.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to slap some sense into him so bad.

“Fuck you…” You grunted under your breath, Dean didn’t reply as he kept working on your wound. His touch much more gentle now.

You averted your gaze from the ceiling and looked over at Dean’s hands deftly stitching your gash closed.

It would definitely scar, but hey, at least it would make a cool story to tell in the future.

After about five minutes, Dean patted your leg before standing up.

He stretched, his back and knees popping from kneeling down and being hunched over.

“I think you should get me some pie as a reward for actually patching you up.” Dean teased, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Nah, you can get that yourself.”

Dean pursed his lips together. “Oh c’mon, just do it!” He insisted.

“Fine!” You relented, shoulders slumping a bit. “But you owe me then.”

Dean raised his hands in the air as you pointed a finger at him. “Okay, I owe you a favor then I guess.” He chuckled, patting your back as a sign for you to get going and get him his pie.

“Better be back before I fall asleep, wouldn’t want to eat a cold pie in the morning.” He commented before you walked out of the room.

—————————————————————————

reblogs and feedback r appreciated! they keep me motivated <3

[ohsc]

Dean, Sam, Cas, and Crowley's fave kinks, please? ♡

nsfw 18+

oh my GOD i love this question tysm lovely <33

i was actually talking about this the other day with a friend 😭 but i totally believe that dean would be into overstimulation. he is a smug bastard, there is no way he wouldn’t enjoy getting somebody to the point where they can’t take anymore all because of him. you can guarantee that he has a whole safeword system set up though

sam definitely has a size kink, there’s no two ways about it. while i whole heartedly believe that a lot of the time sam is a gentle lover, in the times that he’s not he can be really dominant and possessive, and it turns him on so much that he can pull certain reactions from his partner because of his size. i’m also not sure if this counts as a kink but sam totally loves giving oral, he’s 10000% a giver and just wants to take care of his partner over and over and over

for cas, i’m sure he’s really big on using his hands. like, he does so much with his hands on a day to day basis with his grace alone, so i definitely believe he loves using his hands and fingers. i also saw a post on pinterest i don’t know who originally posted it but it said that since he’s an angel his libido is like infinite, and would work his partner until they’re a complete mess because whilst his energy doesn’t go out theirs does, so he’s probably into multiple orgasms too (and i’m not sure how it’d work but using his grace maybe??)

crowley being into bondage kinda makes sense to me. being the king of hell and obviously torturing people, there’s no way he wouldn’t make sex just a little torturous (in a good way). bondage, maybe blindfolds, and edging as well. he’s also a HUGE fan of fucking in the throne

[slxtarchive]

𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. could you make a sam golbach fic with the reader being the literal definition of a ray of sunshine just she’s innocent af and someone (idc who) keeps making inappropriate jokes towards her that she doesn’t understand but sam does???

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you and sam are content with where you’re at in terms of a relationship and you both are aware of your boundaries and respect them. unfortunately not everyone is like you or sam…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. inappropriate jokes about reader, bullying kind of…

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. this was super interesting to make thank you for the request!! 💝

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 800+

you had been getting to know sam for about a full year now and he asked you to be his girlfriend two weeks ago. it was going great. you felt so comfortable with him. he knew your boundaries and you knew his.

you had always said that communication is the biggest thing in a relationship and as you deserve, sam feels the same way.

you had opened up about how you weren’t experienced in anything on a sexual term. he knew as well.

he didn’t ask anymore questions because it was clear that you were content with how you were and he respected that.

unfortunately not many people are like sam.

sam had brought you to a few parties before the one you were at now but you’d never been approached by yourself because you were always with sam.

well, this time things were different. sam went to go fix himself and you a drink leaving you alone by the stairs. you reassured him you’d be okay and that you would just be on your phone but a guy you assumed he knew approached you.

“hey, y/n right?” he asked you.

you smiled and nodded being polite. “yes that’s right.” you nervously laughed.

“wowww, so actually tied down with sam golbach huh?” he said poking his tongue through his cheek.

“um yeah?” you were confused.

“and he ties you down to huh? i figured sam had some interests.” he snorted. was something funny? you didn’t know why he was laughing so much.

“well, i wouldn’t say we tie each other down.” you furrowed your brows. you and sam are happy together and you both agreed that as long as you were together nothing should hold you back.

“oh i see so what you guys cuff?” he took another tip of his drink with a smug smile.

“i’m not a police officer.” you stated which got more of a laugh from him.

“so you’re not dominant. i figured.” he looked around.

something about this guy was throwing you off. you got none of his jokes, the way he laughed annoyed you (you felt too bad to leave), and the way his posture was. it reminded you of guys in high school.

“hey baby i’m back.” sam greeted kissing you on the side of the head while putting his arm around you.

“hi.” you spoke quietly with a tight smile.

“hey bro.” he shook his friends hand and then looked back at you smiling until he noticed your demeanor wasn’t as it was used to. “everything okay?”

“yeah…” you spoke softly once again. you didn’t feel like talking.

“yo bro i was talking to your girl here…you guys are a bit freaky huh?” he laughed slapping sam’s shoulder.

“uh…what?” sam questioned. “what do you mean.”

“cmon man! let’s just say you guys love “bonding” right? your girl was bragging.” he chuckled.

“what? i mean yeah we love spending time together but i didn’t tell you about what we do…” you stayed confused as to what this man was talking about.

“oh so you’re down to tell me?” he rose his brows.

“i mean we watch movies and…and we bake. i like cooking so we cook…?” you tried explaining but the guy just rolled his eyes. your throat started to close as you got more frustrated and emotional.

“no baby, that’s…that’s not what he saying.” sam’s brows furrowed as your facial expression got even more confused and slightly hurt. “look, bro you’re making her uncomfortable and upset, alright? can you not be a dick for like a second in your fucking life?” sam’s face slowly was turning more red.

you could tell he was getting irritated.

“what the fuck? yo i’m just making conversation.” he laughed looking around.

“yeah? well, your conversation; is shit. come on baby let’s go.” he maneuvered you away from the guy. “let’s go upstairs i have to talk to you.”

his words made you more nervous as you both headed upstairs to have a private conversation.

“i’m so sorry baby. i should’ve never left you alone.” sam apologized. “he’s a dick.”

“what was he saying? i didn’t understand. he just kept laughing at his own jokes when i was trying to answer his questions.” you felt your eyes burn.

“he was being an asshole and making sexual jokes about us baby. it wasn’t you he’s just fucking weird.” sam explained giving you a hug.

so that’s why you didn’t understand?

“oh…” you said. “um okay”

moments of silence passed while sam was hugging you. you felt guilty about the situation for some reason.

“sam im sorry for not wanting to…be sexual right now.” you apologized and sam immediately stepped back.

“baby, you do not have to be sorry about that. he was just being a fucking asshole okay?” he kissed your forehead. “there is nothing that i am unhappy about in this relationship. waiting just makes everything more special. okay?”

you nodded ‘okay’ as you both connected your lips in a chaste kiss.

© slxtarchive