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godmadeaterribleerror · 19 days ago

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I Could Have You

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. “He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt.

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down.

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery

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quarterlifekitty · 24 days ago

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Based on this post by @machveil

CBF dynamics

Gaz and you literally shared a playpen. Next door neighbors and best friends for the first 5 years of your life. Yes, he cried his eyes out when your family moved. After a long time, you became a name. A babyish face next to his in old photographs. His mom would go on and on about how cute you were together— even to girls he brought over. It wasn’t until years later when he did a double take— he saw your name next to a photo in some briefing forms. Priority target. To be secured at all costs. Well, it had been a while. A reunion was in order.

Soap was attached to you at the hip from the first day of preschool. And you stayed friends through till middle school. That’s when he started drifting, preferring to hang out with guys who pointed at you and all your other developing classmates in gym, whispering and laughing to themselves, hitting each other on the shoulder. Until he basically ignored you. Which he came to regret pretty quickly into highschool. He clocks you easily when he’s visiting home— the same local deli you used to haunt all the time as kids. He smiles to himself. You’ll give him a chance to make things right, won’t you?

Simon has kept up with you for years. Not that you know that. He used to use your house as a refuge from his own. He ran away so quickly when he enlisted, and you didn’t blame him. You lost all contact, but he continued to look you up. Just to make sure nothing has happened. He doesn’t think you’d be able to look at him anymore with who he is now. His inability to have a decent conversation isn’t as cute as it used to be, for one. But maybe you’ll prove him wrong.

Price’s mom and your mom were best friends. You got along very well, and when you matured things got on the edge of going further, but it never really ended up happening. You were separated by your careers, and before you knew it, he was married. You lost your chance, moved on, got married yourself. When he meets you again, he’s got a divorce and a few relationships that ended in screaming matches under his belt. You’re a widow with a toddler and a seven year old. Maybe things will work out differently this time?

König got made fun of for staying friends with a girl for as long as he did, but he didn’t care— he’d get made fun of regardless, at least this way he had someone to play dolls with. When you were four you got married in the backyard with a bunch of pansies for a bouquet. He’s been in love with you ever since. Of the scant personal effects he brings to and from the base, your letters probably take up the most space. One day he’ll pluck up the courage to come see you, and hope you’ll still see him as the same boy that you married.

Nikolai’s father was friends with yours. You spend summers together. He used to try to get you into trouble, with the animosity growing between the two of you as your feelings developed. He doesn’t see you for decades— not until your father dies and you’re put in charge of handling his estate. And he wonders if you always looked so weary of the world. A vision despite it all, but so much has been forced upon you so quickly. He gets the uncanny feeling that he wants to be someone for you to lean on.

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swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual · 8 months ago

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Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao

Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.

The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.

The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.

They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.

At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?

Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.

Anyways!

They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.

All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.

Go figure.

Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.

The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.

Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.

Gordon sighs. Figures.

So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.

At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.

Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.

Haha. Nope.

So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.

Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into… over the counter pain medication.

Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.

Danny waves at Alfred.

Alfred waves a tiny finger back.

“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”

Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.

“You understand me?”

Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.

“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”

Danny gestures to the blister packet.

“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”

The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.

Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”

Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.

“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.

Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.

“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”

Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.

Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”

Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.

Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.

He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.

“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”

Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.

“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #prompt #I’m clearing out my notes and idk if I’ll continue this but figured it worked out well for a prompt?#do as you will

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anaconamor · 9 months ago

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as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?

wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.

"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.

"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."

"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.

"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.

jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.

you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.

going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.

you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.

"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.

he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"

“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.

“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.

“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.

you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.

you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"

"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.

"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.

“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"

"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.

"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.

to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.

they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?

as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.

after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.

"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.

he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.

he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.

you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."

"are you serious right now?"

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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lacydollette · 1 month ago

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doll!reader wants to take control during sex but rafe isn’t gonna submit that easily, so she has to find another way

warnings pure smut, established relationship, making out, turning dom!rafe sub, forced submission (?) kinda, handcuffs, praise, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving)

“hngh..feels so good rafey.” you hummed, your hips continuing to roll against his still clothed cock, feeling him getting harder the more seconds pass. His lips were still attached to the sensitive skin on your neck as he sucked and licked on your sweet spot.

Rafe was leaning against the headboard, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, unable to get enough of you. Just as his lips began to trail down to your collarbone you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile on your pink and glossy lips. He gazed up at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with lust and complete adoration. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.” he murmured, hands still clinging to your body.

“Good.” you whispered, leaning back down to nip at his jawline, his stubble slightly rough against your soft lips. As your kisses trailed down his neck, something in you shifted. You hadn’t planned for it to unfold like this, feeling kinda strange. Usually, Rafe was the one in charge, his dominant nature pulling you into submission so effortlessly that you never questioned it. You loved the way he took control, how he made you feel small and cared for. But what if you, just once, took the lead?

You weren’t sure where it all came from, but you also weren’t scared to find out. Maybe deep down you’d always wanted to see how far you could push him, to make him yours like he did to you. As your heart began to race you realized that the idea really turned you on, the wet spot on your panties only growing bigger.

Your fingers slid up his chest, brushing over his collarbone before settling at his neck. Your grip tightened slightly, feeling a bit nervous and just adding a playful pressure to start things off. Rafe tensed beneath you almost immediately, his hands shooting up to catch your wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp as his blue eyes locked on yours. You froze, and for a second you thought about chickening out, to just leave it to him, but then a new found courage came rushing through you. “Just trying something new..”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, loosening his hold on your wrists but keeping them steady. "Doll, that's not really my thing. You know I'm not into—"

"Please," you interrupted, your voice a mixture of pleading and determination. Your hands moved to cup his face instead, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "Rafe, I promise l'll make you feel good.“

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh your words. Rafe wasn't used to giving up control—not to anyone, and most of the time not even to you. But the way you looked at him, your big, hopeful eyes and your sweet pout, made it impossible for him to say no. You were his doll, his everything, and despite his doubts, he didn't want to disappoint you.

"Fine," he finally gave in. "But don't push it." Your face lit up with excitement, not thinking that he’d actually agree. "You won't regret it," you promised, lips brushing against his again as your hands adjusted their grip, softer this time, testing his limits. You could feel the tension in his body as Rafe fought the instinct to pull away, his breathing uneven under your touch.

"Relax," you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his neck, your lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Let me take care of you." A playful smirk was plastered on your lips as you placed your hands on Rafe's broad chest, gently pushing him back against the pillows. "Just trust me, okay?" You whispered, your tone dripping with sweetness, though your eyes sparkled with something malicious.

Rafe let you guide him, his hands resting loosely on your bare thighs. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, though he couldn't help but smirk back at you. "Close your eyes," you instructed, voice soft but firm. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow, clearly hesitant. "y/n-"

"Just do it," you interrupted, leaning down to kiss him again, silencing his protests. It was a kiss that left him momentarily dazed, and when you pulled back, he complied with a small groan, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Reaching over to your nightstand you slid the drawer open carefully, trying not to give yourself away as you pulled out the fluffy pink handcuffs you’d stashed there, finally finding an opportunity to use them. The rattling and soft clicking sounds as you adjusted them immediately made Rafe's brow furrow, even with his eyes shut.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice sharp, the hint of suspicion growing stronger. "Shh," you cooed, leaning down to kiss him again, but this time he didn't fall for the distraction. His eyes snapped open just as you had clasped one of the cuffs around his wrist and secured it to the headboard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rafe protested, tugging his arm instinctively, but you were quicker. You grabbed his other wrist and clicked the second cuff into place before he could stop you. His eyes widened as he pulled at the restraints, the fluffy pink cuffs holding him securely against the headboard.

"Doll, what the fuck is this? Get ‘em off."

You sat back on his hips, earning a low grunt from him while twirling the tiny key between your fingers with a smug grin. "Mmm, I don't think so," you said, voice dripping with confidence. "You're not in charge here, Rafey. I am."

Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his jaw clenching as he looked up at you. There was a flicker of something in his expression— frustration, maybe even a little fear, but also an undeniable heat in his blue eyes as he registered your words. He was done for.

“y/n, I swear to God-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Swear all you want," you giggled sadistically, leaning down until your lips were just a breath away from his ear. "You're mine now, Cameron. And you're gonna sit there and take whatever I decide to give you." Your voice was unusually low, commanding, and laced with a sultry edge that made Rafe’s body react before his brain could catch up.

He squirmed beneath you, his face flushing as he realized just how much your words affected him. "Baby, come on," he said, his tone wavering between irritation and something softer, almost vulnerable. "This isn't funny."

"Oh, I'm not laughing," you replied, grin widening as you watched him tug at the cuffs, the muscles in his arms flexing uselessly. Your pussy clenching at the sight, he was so unbelievably hot like this. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his jawline.

"Baby.." he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to muster up some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, the power you held—it made him feel small in a way that was both frustrating and oddly thriling, feeling the buldge in his boxers grow. The way you were acting drove him crazy, thoughts running wild with all possible scenarios. It was all so new to him and seeing you in control definitely flipped a switch inside of Rafe.

You fully ignored his complaints, the outline of his cock definitely was enough for you to keep going, your fingers dipped below the waistline of his boxers, pulling them down as his erection sprang free. you held his already leaking cock in your hand, running your thumb along the tip before licking a stripe all the way to up his base. you repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

“fuck, baby..” rafe groaned, helplessly pulling at the handcuffs. you began to swirl your tongue around his cock, your hand wrapping around the inches that you couldn't get in your mouth. you continued to suck him off, pulling all the way off and then taking him back in. his grunts became louder, hips buckling up into you, while his tip hit the back of your throat.

Gagging and slurping sounds filled the four walls of your room, your saliva mixed with Rafe’s precum making your mouth move smoothly around him. You could tell he was close by the way he squirmed underneath you, tugging on the cuffs with all of his strength, completely trapped.

“You’re gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” You chuckled up at him, hands replacing your mouth for a second as he watched you with hazy eyes, fully emerging into submission, nodding hastily. “Y-yes..fuck.”

You began jerking him off at a fast and rough pace, your hand gliding along his thick shaft with ease as you watched him twitch, quickly wrapping your lips back around his tip. Just as your tongue tasted him again you felt Rafe release, white ropes of cum pouring down your throat as you moaned, your own arousal running down the insides of your thighs.

Pulling yourself off him with a plopping sound you smirked satisfied, licking the corner of your swollen lips while Rafes chest was raising heavily up and down, trying to catch his breath. You leaned over Rafe, your fingers working quickly to unlock the fluffy pink handcuffs that had kept him restrained for far longer than he'd anticipated—or admitted he'd tolerate. The click of the cuffs releasing was followed by a deep exhale from your boyfriend as he brought his arms down, rubbing his sore wrists briefly, his lips curving into a slow, devilish smile.

"Enjoy yourself, Doll?" he asked, his tone low and teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it that sent a shiver through your body. You were unable stop grinning triumphantly as you sat back on your heels. “Maybe I did," you teased, brushing your hair out of your face. "And maybe I'll do it again."

Rafe chuckled, sitting up slightly, his movements deliberate and slow, like a predator sizing up his prey. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice silky smooth, though his eyes burned with intensity. "You did a good job, I'll give you that. Might even let you take control more often... if you're lucky."

Your confidence flared at his words, lips parting to say something smug, but before you could get a word out, Rafe’s hands shot out, grabbing your waist and flipping you effortlessly onto your back. A surprised squeal escaped your lips as he hovered over you, his body pinning yours to the mattress in one swift motion.

"Rafe!" You gasped, your cheeks flushing as you squirmed beneath him, your earlier dominance quickly turning into nervous laughter. "What are you-" "Shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger gently to your lips before leaning in closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“You really thought that you could just tie me up and have your way with me without consequences..?”

my first time writing for doll!reader and im already obsessed with her and rafe’s relationship 🎀

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @dolcekissy @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @beausling @cosmicanakin

#works ₊˚⊹♡#doll!reader x rafe cameron 𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #outer banks fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut

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pumpkinbxtch · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!! I was wondering if you could do hcs for what arguing would be like with the HOO boys

Don't talk me like that! | headcanons

— arguing with the hoO boys

warnings: angst, language, boys being...boys

who's here: jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang ands percy jackson.

a/n: ohh ohh ohhh, yes. I can. I love drama.

— jason grace:

To get into a real fight with him, you must have come a long way because he's so peaceful and always tries to negotiate calmly, making sure both of you communicate effectively. But at the end of the day, you're like any other couple and sometimes end up having real fights.

The big issue is Jason's nature. He goes silent when he's really upset, his emotions hard to show.

When he’s that mad, you can see it on his face. It’s scary, let’s not lie.

When the ice breaks, he tries to take charge to explain what's wrong, which often makes things worse.

He keeps his distance when you argue, tense and rigid. He’s like a handsome, angry log.

Sometimes he says things reluctantly, like "don't act childish," which is so him.

Yes, he raises his voice and gets frustrated, "no, I said NO, THAT’S NOT HOW IT IS, gods…"

If you're wondering if his powers show, the answer is NEVER, or at least not against you. His mouth might taste like metal or his fingers might spark, but that's just him being really stressed.

His eyes get cloudy and grey.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples while muttering.

When things finally start to work out, he breathes better and starts talking more because he knows nothing will work if he doesn’t.

He’s practical, coming up with solutions to problems.

When the fight's over, he hugs you and kisses your forehead, relieved to be out of that situation.

Can he stay mad for days? Depends on the problem, but he’d prefer it doesn't last more than a day.

— leo valdez;

Leo and you usually argue over small things because you have that kind of relationship where you bicker and tease for fun, but when things get serious, the arguments can get heated (get it? heated? laugh, please).

That’s when things get tough. He may seem easy-going, but Leo has a strong temper and is very stubborn when he's mad. Whatever made you really fight doesn't matter because he’ll be stuck on his point.

"No, that's not how it happened." You could be contradicting each other all day until you both turn away and stop talking.

"Well, screw you!" you say, and he growls back, "Yeah, you too," swearing in Spanish. "vale ma-" "me lleva la ch-"

Yes, he switches languages mid-sentence.

"I already told you no! CUANTAS VECES TENGO QUE DECIRLO, carajo!-"

If you know Spanish, you can reply; if not...

"I don’t understand you, idiot. Say it in English or fuck yourself ." (just in case because you’re not sure what he said)

Swearing is common if he's really mad, but it's more his way of dealing with it than being mad at you.

That or sharp sarcasm.

Yes, he might cry if the argument is really bad.

His rigid feelings and insecurity can come up.

Leo is attached, so he’s constantly thinking of ways to fix it because he can’t stand being away from you for too long.

He keeps his distance, terrified of hurting you with his powers, which makes him nervous. "No, DON’T COME NEAR ME." It's for your safety, but it hurts him to see the look in your eyes when he says it.

Can he stay mad for days? Absolutely, but he misses you a lot, though his pride might keep him from showing it.

Don’t worry, he’ll eventually sit down to talk it out, and you’ll both calm down and fix things.

Then he'll give you a big hug and kiss your cheeks.

— frank zhang:

it’s hard to imagine: WHAT DID YOU DO TO FIGHT?

Yes, Frank is Mars’s son, but he’d never choose the battlefield for his lover. He’s very careful and always considerate, but yeah he can be severe when things get bad, and when isn't enough just have a serious talk.

You end up fighting in not-so-quiet whispers, with your faces and gestures being the most expressive.

"Of course not, I already told you, hey!" He raises his hands, and his body tenses up threateningly.

Frank tries to understand your point and make himself heard, always mindful of both your feelings. He knows how to set boundaries.

Sometimes, he just can’t take it anymore and signals a pause. "You know what? This is getting too much, and neither of us is in the best shape. Let’s talk tomorrow or later, please."

Does he raise his voice? Hardly, only when he really needs to make a point.

His eyes are bright, tinged with sadness and anger. The deadliest is his calm face or the way he slightly curls his lip, almost growling.

His eyebrows always seem to be touching, even if he doesn’t want them to.

He keeps a cool head to solve things.

Can he stay mad for days? Yes, while clearing his mind and thinking. He’ll come up to you, and you’ll talk it out, making things work in the end.

He’ll take your hand. You might feel guilty for pushing a guy like Frank to his limit, but he doesn’t mind having relationship problems with you:

"I hope we fight many more times, but about totally different things because it means we’ve really solved the previous issues."

— percy jackson:

wtf did you both do to get into a fight?

Percy won't waste a second, trying to resolve it immediately by asking and reflecting on his own actions. "What did I do wrong?" if it was his fault. "Can you listen to me for a second?" if it was you.

He hates being mad at you, just can’t stand it. But if the fight starts, he wants to start or finish it (or both).

Yes, he might cry.

Yes, he might raise his voice. "No, I didn't do anything. LISTEN TO ME."

Then he apologizes for it because he lost it.

He tries to hold your hands and says, "Babe, babe…"

He makes you both breathe and talk calmly.

He argues, of course, but differently. He’ll stop the conversation. "You know what? I'll think about it." He leaves or makes you leave.

Consequently, he might stay mad for days, or both of you might be mad at each other, but he’s thinking of what to say rather than just calming down. (Nothing wrong with that, everyone handles feelings differently and that's valid.)

Yes, he asks his mom.

Yes, he asks Paul.

You both end up fixing things, and he hugs you tight, giving you kisses all over your face while pouting.

"I missed you, babe."

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letstrip13 · 2 months ago

Text

⛓️ - couple's costume

summary: when you and chris get home from a halloween party, you experiment a little

warnings: smut, use of handcuffs, oral m!recieving, no actual sex (p in v) also still wondering how that started

word count: 1,247

author's note: first halloween special fic!! sorry this ended up being late, i had so much to do and couldn't find any motivation to write. are we surprised i didn't stick to the schedule though? no ofc not! anyways the next fic should be out tomorrow

------------------------୨୧------------------------

you and chris enter your apartment hand-in-hand, both tired from the events of tonight. a friend of his had thrown a costume party and of course you guys wanted to go.

chris slumps down on the couch, letting out a fatigued sigh as he relaxes against the cushions. you kick your high-heeled boots off, glad to finally have that part of the costume off after the long night.

you sit down on the couch next to him, letting out an identical sigh and resting your head on his shoulder. the handcuffs attached to your costume made a sound, and as you sat down, it caught his attention. he runs his fingers over the cool metal, “hey d’you think these things really work?”

you shrug. “m'not sure. wanna try them?” he nods and takes them off the belt loop on your costume that they were attached to. you hold your wrists out in front of him and he carefully moves the metal to circle them and closes it, making sure it’s not too tight on you.

an excited grin takes over his face as ideas course through his mind. “put ‘em on me,” he suggests as he takes them off. you repeat what he did to you and this time you break out in a smile, the exhaustion from the party being forgotten.

the both of you get up and go into your bedroom. chris wastes no time and kisses you as he gets comfortable on your bed, pulling you down to straddle him with the handcuffs still in your hands.

he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, making you part your lips as his tongue explores your mouth. it's so familiar yet there's a different energy about it, knowing you're trying something new.

he leads the pace of the kiss, making sure to go slowly and take the time to get lost in the moment together. there's no rush here and you know it. he pulls away and reaches for the handcuffs that had since been abandoned on the bed. “can we try something?” he asks, almost shyly, a side to him you don't see often.

“what do you want?” “i want you to put them on me.. and you decide. do whatever you want to me.�� your eyes light up with excitement. he's never let you be in charge before. “really?” he nods with a smile on his face as he passes you the handcuffs.

“can you take your costume off first?” he eagerly does as he's told, standing up and stepping out of the orange “prisoner” jumpsuit. you watch intently as he's now down to a white wife beater and his boxers. “get on the bed, my love,” you instruct him.

he sits on the bed, making himself comfortable up by the headboard. you straddle his lap, the handcuffs in hand. “are you ready?” “yes, go ahead.” you position his wrists and the handcuffs in a way where he's chained to the bed before securing it, being careful not to close them too tightly. “does that feel okay?” “yeah, perfect.”

you can tell by the way his hips are subtly moving that he's really turned on right now. that, and the bulge in his boxers that wasn't fully there a minute ago. you sit back on his lap in a comfortable position to kiss him. you take your time, starting with his lips then going along his jawline and neck, making sure to go over all those spots that drive him crazy.

you kiss a trail down his neck, then his chest, then his stomach, and finally his happy trail. this elicits a small but sharp groan from him, making it known that he craves more contact. “please-” he murmurs.

“i'm not done teasing you yet. i'm getting you back for all the times you did this to me, baby.” his head falls back as a whine escapes his lips. you run your hands up his thighs, even placing a few kisses on them, doing anything except touching him where he needs it most.

by this point, there's a large, wet patch on his boxers where precum had been leaking out. you run your finger over it, saying in a low voice, “making such a mess for me already.” he hisses at the contact. your fingers hook in the waistband of his underwear as you slowly pull them down his legs, his hard cock springing up to hit his stomach. precum continues to leak out of the tip and down the shaft as it practically throbs beneath your gaze, begging to be touched.

you teasingly blow cool air onto the tip, causing him to buck his hips up in response as a whimper leaves his mouth. you spit on it, watching it trickle down his cock for a moment before spreading it with your hand, stroking up and down at a pace that's almost painfully slow for him. “o-oh fuck, i-” he moans when you finally touch him. “you're not saying you’re close already, are you? i might have to stop.” he frantically shakes his head no, almost causing you to giggle.

with your hand still circling him, you lean down to teasingly lick the tip, earning a louder than expected groan from chris. you do it a few times before taking it into your mouth, being careful not to go any further. he bucks his hips again, causing you take a few inches into your mouth. you pull back and look into his eyes. “don't do that, baby, or i'll have to stop.” he sheepishly nods, “okay, i won't.”

you go right back to what you were doing, taking more into your mouth over time while working on the rest with your hand. every time you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, you pull away just long enough for him to calm down before going right back to it.

he involuntarily bucks his hips again, forcing him deeper into your throat. you don't say anything, you just look up at him through your lashes. “m’sorry. i didn't mean to,” he rambles, “need more.” “you want more?” he nods. “okay, my love, i'll let you cum now.”

you take as much of him as you can, deepthroating him as he loudly moans. he can't control himself anymore, leading to him forcing his cock further down your throat. you try your hardest not to gag as he fills your throat, the both of you more focused on his pleasure.

before you know it, he's writhing and squirming on the bed, crying out your name as he shoots his load into your mouth. you swallow it all, continuing to suck him off more, wanting every last drop. he squirms at the sensitive feeling until it becomes too much, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “no more,” he whines. you respond by letting his softening dick out of your mouth with a soft pop.

“how was that, love?” you ask as you reach up to free him from the handcuffs. “s-so good,” he says breathlessly. you toss them on your nightstand and you take a moment to lay there with your head on his chest. he wraps his arms around you and plays with your hair.

you break the silence after a few minutes, sitting up. “let's get you cleaned up.” he sits up with a yawn, sleepily mumbling something unintelligible as the both of you go into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

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anantaru · 6 months ago

Note

i‘m just thinking about friends with benefits with kaeya and having a no kissing rule 😫

・✶ ｡ synopsis — the cavalry captain and you had a secret agreement going on, with one of the rules being called the "no kissing rule" <3

warnings — fwb, lots of tension, experienced kaeya, sub reader, fem! reader

to keep things short, you and kaeya had a special agreement, with no strings attached nor any unnecessary feelings involved.

sounds easy, correct? well, if it wasn't for one notable thing.

to keep it short, there was one rule: no kissing under any circumstances, it was a line the both of you drew to keep things from becoming way too complicated in your "relationship", most importantly to ensure that feelings stayed out of the equation.

it's supposed to be focused on just the physical part and kaeya had no troubles agreeing to it right away, although he did it with his usual, playful smirk and a glint in his eye that promised mischief.

and well, tonight was no different, really, the two of you met up and the thick tension and anticipation flowed into the usual way to end the night— with the wind singing and the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow on your naked bodies.

the ambience was charged, the anticipation for feeling pleasure hanging in the air as you reached for each other in hunger— and ugh, kaeya's touch was just so electrifying, you get warm all over as his fingers trace patterns on your flesh that made you shiver right away and shake beneath his chest.

after all, the cavalry captain was known for his fearlessness and playfully persona, hence why behind closed doors, he moved with a confidence that spoke of experience and craving, every gesture calculated to draw out the maximum amount of pleasure from your body.

it feels good, almost too good— you can barely hold your moans back as they drizzled through your parted lips, followed by precious utters of his name in combination with your hips grinding up to meet his thrusts halfway, your inner thighs messily slicked up with your arousal as it dripped all over his balls.

yet, there was a tenderness in the way he held you, a subtle hint of something more beneath the surface— it's weird and confusing, switching between fucking you mercilessly but holding your head ever so tenderly so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

kaeya slants forward now, his breath warm against your ear, "remember the rule?" he whispers, his voice husky as your walls squeeze and loosen with every thrust and push of his erection.

"no kissing, yeah?"

you nod obediently, your heart pounding.

kaeya continues, "repeat it," as his voice buzzes off your skin. the cavalry captain finds the look on your face cute, slightly dazed and a little confused, but adorable despite that.

"no— no kissing," you repeat as he clicks his tongue in agreeance, "good girl,"

and kaeya can feel it, right there, how your wetness was beginning to gather all over his pelvis as he pressed you deeper into the mattress— he knows what it does to you, what he could spark inside of you as it was easy to lose yourself in the sensation of him, forcing yourself to focus on the physical and ignore the emotional.

his touch was everywhere, his scent serving as an aphrodisiac as a dizzying blend of pleasure left you gasping for breath. continuously, kaeya pushed you to your limits, abruptly pulling your legs up against his shoulders before his forehead knocks against yours, his touch being both gentle and demanding, ruthless and, well, loving?

whatever that meant, his real intentions could never leave his lips in comparision to his delirious grunts escaping his throat like a bold of lightning as kaeya dreams of a moment to one night— just taste your lips for one time, just once.

he promises that after he feels them on his own he could go back to how things were before, truly, maybe, not for one moment.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kaeya x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich smut

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akutasoda · 7 months ago

Note

Heyeyey can I request boothill, Sunday and aventurine with a fem s/o who’s always on her phone? Like even when it’s charging or even when they’re cuddling she just has to be on her phone?

screentime overload

synopsis - how are they with a s/o who cannot put their phone down?

includes - aventurine, sunday, boothill

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns used), fluff, crack, wc - 721

aventurine ★↷

↪he can be a bit of a fifty fifty when it comes to his phone. normally the only time he uses it is for IPC relevant things, messaging you or ratio and if he's really bored, mindless scrolling. his work can keep him rather busy and so he doesn't exactly have the time to sit around all day.

↪so he found it quite amusing to a degree when he noticed how absorbed you were in your phone. it really didn't take long for him to notice how you practically treated it as a lifeline because no matter where you were your phone was near aswell - more accurately near to your line of sight.

↪it did bring him some comfort in knowing that you would always see his messages because he could always take an accurate guess that you were on your phone and able to respond as quick as possible.

↪however he did find it quite ridiculous that sometimes he'd find you curled up by your charger, phone still in hand. surely you had other things to be doing? maybe you're phone needed a break from you eventually?

↪it didn't bother him per say, but he would prefer it if, when he saw you after a while, that you actually make the effort to pry your gaze from your phone and to him.

↪sometimes he can be quite the menace, especially when, in the morning, you wake up and search for your phone but don't get very far as aventurine would have you in a near death grip hug.

sunday ★↷

↪definitely isn't a phone kind of person. sure he has one but it's mainly for work or managing the dreamscape and most likely only had a couple of actual contacts - yours and robins. he probably could go very happily without his phone.

↪and so he truly doesn't understand why you're so attached to yours. at first he thought that you probably had something going on that needed managing, but when he saw you day in and day out staring down at your screen, he got slightly worried and confused.

↪it baffled him that you could actually spend so much time staring down at that screen but eventually he started getting more concerned that you were causing permanent damage to your eyes. he's the type of person who would tell you about the damage phones can do to you when he sees you laser focused on your phone.

↪in a similar way, he does find a slight comfort in knowing that if he needs to reach you he can. the one day you don't actually get his messages and respond very quickly is the day he panics.

↪sunday isn't exactly the keenest when it comes to physical affection, but when he does come around and finally gets time off to spend with you, he does not want you on your phone for that. if you get unlucky he might start contemplating hiding your phone.

boothill ★↷

↪another fifty fifty. he isn't exactly literate and so any messages are sent via voice recordings and such, this also probably means that he doesn't spend that much time on his phone in general - especially as a galaxy ranger who has bounties to hunt instead.

↪that being said, his phone gets put through the wringer alot. it isn't exactly his top priority in keeping safe when on a mission, so he either loses it or it gets very badly damaged to the point that sometimes you can't even tell it was meant to be a phone.

↪so he did struggle a bit to to comprehend how and why you spent so much time on your phone. he only started getting annoyed when he realised that your phone was robbing him from your affection and time. boothill did once threaten to eat your phone.

↪he still finds it very ridiculous that you spend so much time in your phone, especially when he has caught you multiple times using your phone while it's charging or when you really shouldn't be.

↪but he doesn't mind too much as long as you actually still give him some affection and don't spend that time with your phone in hand again - especially when he gets time to return to you after hunting a bounty or two.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

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vampiree-555 · 7 months ago

Text

"Please, I need it."

c.s - drvgdealer

contains: smut , slight(?) angst , mentions of weed , degradation , pet names

It was a long day. One of the more excruciating days I'd had in a while. I'd gotten home and immediately rushed for my stash of weed that I kept in the underwear drawer of my dresser. I was so excited to finally be able to relax and take the edge off until I saw the empty container that I kept my weed in.

"Shit." i whined to myself.

I gritted my teeth as I knew what I had to do, though I desperately did not want to do it.

My dealer was one of the hottest people I'd ever laid my eyes on... but he was scary as hell. He knew how I felt about him so anytime we would meet, he'd always keep it short and simple. Though last time, we had a bit of an argument.

{flashback}

"Thanks Chris." I took the small baggie from his hand but he didn't let it go. He stared at me with his intense and cold blue eyes that pierced daggers into you. I stared back at him with my eyes wide and my breathing had obviously gotten heavier.

"Why don't you like me, y/n? I don't know if you've noticed this, but I always under charge you, I give you extra, and I'm nice to you. Which is not something I always do. So why don't you like me?" He spoke in a monotonous tone yet I could tell by his eyes he was angry.

"I've been your dealer for 2 years and you never text me unless you need weed, y/n." I shook my head and slightly chuckled nervously.

"That's what dealers are for, Chris. I'm your customer. I'm not your girlfriend." his grip on my hand tightened as I spoke. I saw him clench his jaw and grit his teeth. He laughed softly and threw my hand down along with the baggie.

"Find a new dealer. I'm done with you." he turned his back away and walked into the night, not knowing where he was headed.

I picked up my phone hesitantly and opened his contact. I know he said he was done with me but I secretly knew he didn't mean it.

ׂ╰┈➤ texting

y/n ; hey. i need stuff..

Chris🚬 ; i thought i said i was done w u y/n.

y/n ; you did , srry but im out nd need more

Chris🚬 ; ur killing me y/n l/n

y/n ; thx chris

I smiled to myself as i set my phone down. I had a weird attachment to him. I liked him as a brother... I thought.

I changed into more appropriate clothes for meeting Chris. My white tank, black zip up hood, and my noticeably short jean shorts. He liked when I showed off my ass and as an apology for last time, I did just that.

Soon I heard my front door open and I rolled my eyes. He always walked into my apartment like he owned the place.

"Where you at ma?" my heart beat out my chest once I heard his voice. I was nervous to see him again. I took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room where he made himself comfortable on my couch.

"I'm right here, no need to yell." I said playfully at him. He looked me up and down before softly biting his lip and looking up at me with his piercing and narrow blue eyes. The way he looked at me really got to me somehow. I could feel my cheeks flush and I couldn't stop my small smile from forming on my lips.

I sat next to him on the couch and could feel his eyes on my ass while i sat. I narrowed my eyes at him and he scoffed before looking away from my gaze.

"You know just how to make me feel better baby." he spoke so softly you could miss it, but it was so quiet in that room you couldn't not hear his every move.

He pulled my usual amount that I bought from him out his hoodie pocket and threw it on the table. I slid him the cash and he stared at the bills for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. That's not what I want." He looked at me and I tilted my head in a confused manner. He sucked on his teeth before a small smirk formed on his face. He leaned in closer to me where his lips were barely brushing my ear.

"I want you, mama." I leaned back from him with my eyebrows furrowed.

"Chris," He didn't let me get another word out before he crashed our lips together in a possessive rage, for some odd reason, I didn't pull back. I let him kiss me, and I kissed back.

He held his hand on the back of my neck to deepen the kiss and let his free hand roam my waist. In a quick motion he turned us so that my back was pushed against the couch and he leaned over me.

He kissed down my neck which tended to be more sensitive and I let it be known with the small noises that escaped from my lips. I felt him smirk against my fragile skin and let him snake his hands down my waist, and to my thighs. He swiped off his shirt and let me sit up to do the same while he bent down to unbutton my shorts and throw them across the room, along with my underwear, I did the same with my shirt and Chris with his own clothing.

I felt the ocean that formed in my panties once he undressed me and apparently Chris did as well.

"Already so wet for me? hm?" his hand trailed down to my soaking cunt and he rubbed circles around my clit with his thumb while with his other hand, he entered his middle and ring finger, curling them against my G-spot causing loud moans and whines to escape my lips.

"f-fuck~ feels so good.." I heard his godforsaken chuckle as he listened to the sweet noises that escaped my glistening, plump lips. He removed his fingers and jammed them into my mouth.

"Suck." and I did just that. I stared at him with my pleading and desperate eyes as he looked down at me, like I was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen, yet his eyes were also filled with infatuation and desire.

He removed his fingers from my mouth and spit into that same hand, stroking himself before pressing his tip against my core slightly teasing me. I whined and looked at him with my puppy eyes before he scoffed into the air.

"Don't look at me like that y/n. You have no idea what you do to me." The last part was just barely a breath, I almost missed it.

He slowly began to enter into my core, his own grunts and groans mixed with mine, filling the air with a wave of ecstasy.

He pushed himself in slowly before pulling out to where his tip was just barely at my entrance before slamming his hips into mine. I let out a loud scream like moan as he continued at a fast and hard pace. A rhythm at which I'd never seen or felt before.

"h-holy fuck~" At this point my brain had turned into mush as my only point of focus was Chris and how he made me feel in that moment. I instinctively arched my back as I felt the all-to-familiar knot form in my stomach. Chris could tell I was getting close, and obviously had no intention on slowing down.

"m' close.." I moaned out. I looked at Chris after having my eyes closed for nearly the whole time out of pure pleasure. He was staring down at me with complete anger in his eyes and my heart started to race in my chest.

"You're such a fucking slut. All you do is fuck for drugs. You're mine y/n. All fucking mine." Chris spoke through clenched teeth. I would be lying if I said that didn't make me inch closer to my climax.

Chris then pulled out just as quickly as he entered inside of me and began gathering all of his clothes, putting them back on piece my piece. I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. My chest was rising and falling and my skin glistened due to sweat under the warm light.

"Chris wha-" I was cutoff once more by an aggressive kiss from the man once he got all his clothes on, followed by a soft slap across my face.

"Don't text me again." And with that, he left my apartment, slamming the door behind him.

#chris x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #chris smut #sex and drugs #drug dealer

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sexilene · 8 months ago

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lene we need some 80s slasher JB!!!

ohh shure! he gives creepy summer camp counselor vibes - 80s!slasher!john b

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, blood, violence, death, threats, slapping, spitting, obsessed!john b - ₊˚⊹

you'd gotten the most perfect job for the summer as a camp counselor at a sleep-away summer camp. after meeting everyone at the orientation you've become close to another counselor who will be working with you, john b.

he was in charge of the boy's cabin and you the girls, and your groups would meet up for activities, bonfires, smores, and lunch. he'd honestly grown really attached to you since you were always doing things together, whenever he'd see you chatting with another guy he'd feel possessive and you weren't even dating! yet john b would also embarrassingly get hard watching you slide down your shorts, staring at how tight your bikini bottoms fit around your ass. he'd spend that night in his cabin jerking off, picturing your pretty body bouncing on top of him, wishing he could grab fistfuls of your ass. he'd finish in his fist all sweaty and out of breath.

you sat at your group's table in the mess hall facing john b's table, both of you making eye contact every few seconds.

when the dessert was ready, each table was called to go pick up their plate of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. john b's eyes followed your figure as you walked up to the counter, waiting until all the little girls got their slices. one of the guys that was working inside the kitchen, clearly flirting with you, asks if you want some. you decline with a smile but the young man insists, saying he made it himself, he lifts up the fork with a piece of the warm pie and dripping ice cream to your lips. you indulge him by opening your mouth and closing it around the fork, swallowing the desert you widen your eyes and nod. "it's really good!" you smile, the guy's hand reaching out to swipe the little bit of ice cream that stayed on the edge of your lip.

watching this, john b was furious, letting that fucking feed you, touch your lips....

that night, the little girls knock on your cabin door, right next to theirs. they complain that they heard someone scream coming from the mess hall and are too scared to sleep. you tell them it's probably nothing and to go back to sleep, that you'll check it out.

the girls do as they're told and you walk over to the mess hall and walk inside the dark space to see what could have been the noise, hearing some sort of noise coming from inside the kitchen you figure it could be an animal that got inside, you press your ear to the swinging door honestly too scared to actually look inside.

the door then swings open, causing you to stumble back and meet eyes with john b, with blood on his shirt, hands, and on the knife in his hands. you stand there confused...'did he cut himself?' you think, then you see it, through the open door is the pie guy dead on the floor with his blood pooling around his body. john b's hand is quick to cover your mouth before you can scream, "shshsh, you don't need to do that bub, you're fine." he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you.

you nod your head slowly, chest heaving.

"i'm gonna let go now okay? need you to be quite f'me, can you do that?" he raises his eyebrows and you nod again, he takes his hand off our mouth. "m'gonna need to take your clothes off...got blood on them..." he tells you rather than asks you, he raises the knife and cuts your top up the middle.

"john b? what's going on..." you whisper, clearly scared.

"i can't wait anymore, you drive me crazy, i need to do this." he rambles while tugging off your shorts rather roughly.

"john b did you stab the kitchen b-" he cuts you off with a rough kiss to keep you quiet. he manhandles you over one of the tables and lifts you on top, facing him.

you whine as he brings the knife up to your face.

"don't scream, don't want to whole camp to hear you, n'i don't want to hurt you pup"

you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as he cuts your panties to get access to your hot messy pussy.

"awww she's so pretty..." he coos, his big rough fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you mewl.

"jombee...i don't wanna...you killed someone!" you shake your head, almost hyperventilating crying.

"hey, nuh uh, stop that." he pats your face to get you to listen to him. you watch as he pulls off his bloody shirt and unzips his shorts and pulls himself out, your eyes widening at the size. "he's not the only one i killed." he looks back into your eyes and you swear your heartbeat sped up and so did the pulsing of your cunt.

"you're a murderer johnbee," you whisper but then gasp when you feel him start to push in, stretching your pussy.

"i know, m'really mean, huh puppy?" he pouts mockingly and pinches one of your nipples making you squeal.

"don't like being mean to you, but when you walk around acting like an angel, when i know you're a little tease...kinda have'ta put you in your place," he grunts, pounding into hard now, you can see the little bulge in your tummy.

"i wasn't! i didn't mean to be! i didn't do anything!" you sob, one hand grabbing onto the table and the other hand gripping his bicep. blood sorta covering both of you from where he had touched you, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look at him.

"wish you could be my good girl right now n'just take. it." he thrusts harder with his last two words. you wish you could scream at how scared you are of him but also at how good it feels.

"open." he grunts, squeezing your jaw a little. you shake your head no as best you can, causing him to let go of your jaw and slap you, making your drooly cunt clench around him. "m'not asking again." he grabs your jaw again, and you open your mouth, and he spits into it making you whine in disgust. "swallow." you do as your told and swallow tears continuing to fall.

"that's how a dumb little doggy gets treated, they get spit on." he grins and pulls out of you, manhandles you off the table, and bends you over, tits and face pressed against the wood.

"nooo...no.." you drool onto the table.

he bends down a bit to be right in front of your ass and spits on your other tight little hole, watching as his spit drips down to your pussy. you squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling and sob a little louder.

he stands up straight again and reaches around to pat your sloppy little cunt now covered in his spit, and slides his cock back in.

"s-so gross..." you mewl, making him laugh quietly, bringing the back of his bloody hand up to your face.

"cum around me or i'll smear this on your face, you want that? hmm? some guy's blood on your face?" he threatens. "c'mon..." he bends down to press icky wet kisses to your cheek that instantly make you cum on on him, pulsing and squeezing him as your mind goes dumb. his big hand covering your mouth as you moan.

"there she is, good girl...yeaaah" he praises, thrusting into you more sloppily until he's pumping you full, flooding your poor little pussy.

after a few seconds, he pulls out and uses his tip to smear yours and his cum around your pussy lips.

"here." he hands you his bloody shirt for you to put on knowing it'll cover you enough to get back to your cabin decent, you pull his shirt over your head and make sure it covers your ass.

"we'll talk more tomorrow, okay sweetie? gotta go...clean that up." he tilts his head toward the body. "goodnight kiss?" he bits his lip, squinting his eyes, taunting you. you stand there lifting your head, he leans down to give you one last kiss on your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away. ᥫ᭡

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princessbrunette · 8 months ago

Text

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃a continuation from the rafe and puppy universe…(click me) ࣪

rafe doesn’t always treat puppy!reader so nicely. infact, sometimes she really tests his patience.

he drags you through the front door to tannyhill with a hand wrapped around your arm — thick gold rings wound round his fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he yanks you inside. you can’t keep up with his long strides, tripping over and having the eldest cameron repeatedly carry the entirety of your weight with his hand everytime you stumbled— wrenching you back to your feet.

whilst this occurs, he lectures you through grit teeth — at the end of his tether. “what’d i tell you huh? what’d i fuckin’ tell you ‘bout manners?” he asks and you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, letting him march you up the stairs to his bedroom.

“its no big deal—” you hiccup through pained whines as you try to pull away from his stern grip, only making him tighten it.

“nah, nah — you knew exactly what you were doing at the country club. running that mouth when i — i specifically told you to behave today.”

there had been a very high class event, ward forcing rafe to take you along to get you accustomed to the kook-lifestyle after so long of slumming it at the other side of the island. you were ditsy, but not dumb — you saw the way the camerons looked at you, with pity — like you simply weren’t made for this world. thats why you got so attached to rafe, he didn’t pity you. it was tough love, so you assumed — the boy constantly lecturing and berating you but would be the first to save you from any potentially damaging or dangerous situations, and god forbid anyone spoke to you as poorly as he did.

the afternoon was unsavable from the start. you may have been responsible for the large chocolate fountain at the food table falling, you’d accidentally insulted the president of the country club to his face, you’d mistakenly smeared food on the back of rafe’s shirt, and when rafe was rightfully lecturing you for that — you bit him. you bit him infront of one of the important businessmen he had been trying to impress. you understood his anger for once, you’d messed up.

he tosses you onto his bed making you stumble onto it, turning around to watch the way the boy angrily rifles through his dresser drawers, furiously continue to ramble at you. “you know i’ve been saving this, yeah — saving this from when you really messed up. ‘cos i knew you would. you’re a pogue, and you’ll always be one. and — and i’ve been here, tryna look after the runt of the litter — and yet you still disrespect me.” he shakes his head and you watch forlornly, watching him find what he was looking for and begin to pull it out.

“well you wanna run that mouth? wanna— wanna bite me in public? i’m gonna have t’treat you like the dirty pogue puppy you are— okay? didnt wanna have to do this kid but you leave me no choice. s’gotta be me to discipline you, alright? c’mere.” in his hand, you instantly recognise to be some form of muzzle. like the type you’d see on a dog, but this time perfectly crafted to fit a female face. you’d had no idea where he’d got such a cruel item, he had to have had it custom made just to shut you up, a sick fantasy he’d been sitting on. you cower, and he’s unphased.

he undoes the buckles on the side so that he can put it on you, but not before yanking your hands to his belt and leaving them there. “undo this. you’re gonna wear this, n’then you’re gonna let me take what i want from you. a’ight? i’m in charge. you’re gonna learn your damn lesson whether you like it or not.”

you whine as you obey him, trembling fingers fumbling for his belt. the worst part about this, was that you couldn’t deny your arousal. the manhandling, the degrading — you were a sensitive girl, who had sensitive needs, but something about the boy you had such a crush on, the same boy who would deny reluctantly cuddling you to sleep when you had a bad dream that one time, treating you so mean was making your cunt ache with need.

“i’m not gonna bite, i just want to kiss again.” you wail weakly as he brings the muzzle to your face, scoffing out a chuckle that read directly as ‘fat fucking chance’. rafe had kissed you a few times. moments of weakness. he couldn’t deny his feelings for you but — well, actually yes he could. he did deny his feelings for you, and often too. he was head over heels and he didn’t like that.

“kiss? you— you think you deserve a kiss after the way you behaved today?” once the muzzle is fastened and you’re staring up at him with big watery puppy dog eyes, he finishes up with yanking off his belt and undoing his zipper, trying to ignore how your pitiful expression looked. rafe was mean but he wasn’t an idiot— he knows you didn’t mean to be the way you were. you were innocent, naive — but god if taking advantage of that didn’t get him off.

his heart twinges at the sorry look on your face so he flips you over onto your front on the bed, body sprawled out and bouncing from the force. “nah…” he answers his own question as he tugs your dress up your back to reveal your soaked through panties between trembling thighs. he thumbs at the wet patch above where your hole sits meanly, scoffing. “you’re gonna shut up and take this dick. maybe then you’ll get your damn kiss.”

#tw dubcon #rafe cameron prompt #he’s very mean here i warn you #puppy!reader #for the rafe n pup universe

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landwriter · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me!#dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin)#author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :')#might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little!#my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it'#me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

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