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wchswift · 1 day ago

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─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: As teenagers, you and Dean had a whirlwind romance before everything fell apart. Years later, you reunite—and it’s like high school all over again.

contents! mutual pining, teenage love, soft, flirting and touching, stupid in love dean, mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 2.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

Dean was the first and only real love you had.

Well, not exactly real. And maybe not exactly love.

He was the good part of your day. That person you knew would be there. The person who made school possible and tolerable.

Dean was always known for his charm, for his way with girls. For always having them. But the moment Dean joined your group of friends and you two became even remotely close, it was as if something, a connection, that you didn't know could exist, finally made itself present within you.

It wasn't something verbalized, something explicit. But as soon as you had your first kiss, there was no one else. No other girl in school had a chance with him. He wouldn't let you go, and much less took his eyes off you.

Everything felt so real. Even if it was just between the lines.

He was the best "relationship" you ever had. The best moments and the best treatment you had from a boy were with Dean Winchester.

And then just as it all began, suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

One night you two were together in the back seat of the car and the next morning he was gone from town, without any explanation.

And when you were seventeen, that was the last time you saw Dean.

You and Dean were sure you would never see each other again. You were teenagers, it was normal. People come and go from school all the time, it was common to meet people at school and then never see them again, never find out how they are.

This is what you and Dean thought things would be like. Just a memory that would fade in time. Never having to worry about looking each other in the eye again.

But when was anything ever simple in Dean Winchester's life?

A case never ended up being just a case.

The small town didn’t exactly scream "monster hotspot," but something was definitely off. Three people had vanished without a trace in the past two months, all last seen at the same place—a cozy little diner on Main Street that doubled as a bookstore. The place was old-school charming, the kind of spot with checkered floors, the scent of fresh coffee in the air, and a tiny bell over the door that jingled whenever a customer walked in. Nothing about it screamed "supernatural danger," but Dean had learned long ago that the worst things often hid in the most ordinary places.

“Alright, so we got three missing persons, no bodies, and a common location,” Sam said, flipping through his notes. “No signs of struggle, no EMF spikes, no sulfur. If it’s something supernatural, it’s keeping a low profile.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel, squinting at the diner across the street. “Or it’s just smart. Maybe a witch, maybe something we haven’t seen before.”

Sam sighed. “So, the usual—talk to employees, check out security footage, dig through lore?”

Dean smirked. “Aw, you're so smart, Sammy.”

With that, they climbed out of the car and crossed the street, the bell over the door announcing their arrival. The place was warm and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the soft crackle of pages turning. Dean barely had time to take it all in before his gaze landed on someone behind the counter.

He recognized you instantly. There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't.

You were busy jotting something down, focused on a customer, completely unaware of him—at first. Dean’s stomach tightened, his pulse kicking up. It had been years, but damn if you wasn’t still the same girl he remembered—just sharper, more grown-up, but still you. The girl who had once snuck out of your house to meet him, who had laughed against his lips under the Friday night stadium lights, who had looked at him like he was worth something—until he left without saying goodbye.

When you lifted your head, ready to serve the new customers, that’s when you saw him.

For a second, just a second, your eyes met, and he saw it: the flicker of recognition, the moment your heart probably dropped into your stomach the same way his had.

To this day, Dean always remembers the way you used to look at him. The sparkle in your eyes, the way they seemed to smile, emanating happiness and trust.

Just seeing you made him feel as if he were in high school again.

And now? Now you were standing behind the counter, your apron tied around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear, looking at him like you weren’t sure whether to punch him or pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean opened his mouth, but for once in his life, words failed him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you finally muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean—?"

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Sammy.” Dean snapped out of it, forcing a grin. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Winchester.” Your voice was calm, even, but there was an edge to it, a quiet challenge. "Guess life’s full of surprises."

Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess it is."

Sam, ever the unfortunate third wheel, glanced between them and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, we’re actually here about the disappearances. We’re—"

"FBI?" you cut in, lifting a brow. "Do you want me to believe that you two are FBI?"

Dean had to bite back a smirk. Of course you weren’t buying their act. You had always been sharp. Always saw right through him.

Sam hesitated. "We just have a few questions."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the counter before jerking your chin toward an empty booth in the corner. "Fine. Take a seat. I’ll be over in a minute."

Dean watched as you turned on your heel, disappearing into the back. Only when you were out of sight did he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well,” Sam muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Dean ignored him, eyes still locked on the door you had just walked through.

Yeah. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Only to get better, when you return, you decided to act as if he didn't exist. There was no sign of recognition on your face. No lingering shock, no flicker of emotion. Just cool, effortless professionalism, like you didn’t just have the wind knocked out of you moments ago.

A notebook is in your hand now, the pen twirling between your fingers as you slide into the seat across from them. Your eyes flick briefly to Sam—acknowledging him first, like Dean isn’t even there.

“So,” you say, tone even. “What exactly do you want to know? If this is about the disappearances, let me say I don’t know much. Just that they all came in here before they went missing. We gave their names to the cops already”

Dean leaned in, arms folding as he tilted his head slightly. “You always this helpful, sweetheart?”

The nickname made your eye twitch—barely.

You finally, finally glanced at him, and for a second, all he could see was the fire behind your gaze.

“I try my best, agent.” Your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Anything else?”

Sam cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you, clearly picking up on the weird energy but too polite, more like too damn confused, to say anything. “Uh—right. But anything else you might’ve noticed? Strange behavior? Anyone bothering them?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Not that I remember.”

Feeling that with all this tension he wasn't going to get anywhere, Sam decided to stop there. “Alright, I think that’s all we need for now, then. If you remember anything else, let us know.”

With a nod, you began to rise from your seat, your body moving almost instinctively as you embraced the end of the conversation. “Sure thing."

As Dean watched you walk back to the counter, he couldn't believe you acted as if he wasn’t even there. However, if you thought that was the end of it, you were mistaken. Now that Dean had found you again, he wasn’t planning to just walk away. Not this time.

“Dude,” Sam muttered, voice low, snapping Dean out of his reverie. “What the hell was that?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no kidding. You gonna fill me in?”

Dean didn’t answer right away, just watched as you disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.

He used to love watching you walk away. Now it just felt like he was losing you all over again.

After a beat, he pushed up from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

But Dean was already moving.

The back door of the diner led to a narrow hallway—one he knew you’d taken to get a breather. It was quieter back here, the hum of conversation fading into a dull murmur.

And sure enough, there you were.

Your hands braced on the edge of a small counter, eyes closed, breathing deep. He knew that look. Knew you were trying to steady yourself, get your walls up before he could knock them down.

Too late.

“Still not gonna look at me?”

Your shoulders tensed at his voice, but you didn’t turn. “What do you want, Dean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe a little acknowledgment? A hey, Dean, long time no see. Thought you were dead or in jail—”

“Wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, a humorless smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, well. Didn’t end up that way.”

Silence.

You reached up, rubbing your temple, like talking to him was physically painful.

And hell, maybe it was.

After a beat, you finally turned to face him, arms crossing. Your eyes were sharp, guarded. But there was something else beneath it. Something raw.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

His chest ached at the way you said his name. Not like you used to—soft, familiar, like it meant something. Now it just sounded… tired.

“Job brought us here,” he said, keeping it simple.

You studied him, unconvinced. “And what? You thought, hey, let’s stop by and ruin her day while we’re at it?”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because that’s what I wanted. To see you look at me like I’m a damn ghost.”

You flinched. It was quick—so quick he almost missed it. But he didn’t.

And suddenly, the fight drained out of you. Your gaze dropped for the first time since this whole thing started, fingers tightening against your sleeves.

Dean’s throat worked.

He could push. Could try to get you to really talk, break down that wall you were building brick by brick.

But the way you looked right now? Like you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—

He couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

Instead, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. But I think we’re gonna be crossing paths whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Dean nodded, stepping back. “Just… don’t pretend I was never here, alright?”

And with that, he walked away.

He didn’t see the way your jaw clenched, the way your fingers curled into fists like you were stopping yourself from reaching out—

Didn’t hear the breath you let out, shaky and uneven, as soon as he was gone.

You knew this wasn’t the end—couldn’t be. Deep down, you knew that your story with Dean Winchester was far from over. And you knew that the moment he decided to see you again, he would pull you close once more, weaving his way into your heart until you could never imagine leaving his side again.

Weeks passed.

Looking back, you weren’t sure when exactly everything shifted.

Maybe it was after Dean came back to the diner and made you listen while he told you the truth—even though at the time you were sure that the man you once loved was completely insane.

But maybe it was when you started helping with the case, and somewhat believing him—not because you wanted to be a hunter, but because you wanted to be with him.

Or maybe it was just inevitable. Like gravity pulling you back into his orbit, like you never really had a choice in the first place.

All you knew was that, suddenly, it felt like before—like sneaking out past curfew, like warm summer air and stolen kisses in the Impala, like every love song that made your chest ache.

Only now, you weren’t kids anymore.

And Dean Winchester had never been the kind of guy to love halfway.

Which was how you ended up here.

Sitting in a diner, trying to pretend like Dean’s hand wasn’t sliding up your thigh under the table.

Across from you, Sam exhaled sharply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

“Dude,” he gritted out, glaring at Dean. “Can you stop touching her for five seconds?”

Dean, the picture of innocence, took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression was pained.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but when Dean leaned in—his lips brushing your ear when he definitely didn’t need to be that close—you swatted at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” He smirked, not even pretending to be sorry. “Just admiring my girl.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I hate this.

But it only got worse from there.

Dean was relentless.

His hands were always on you—an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, palm resting low on your back. He kissed your temple absentmindedly, whispered things that made you flush, smirked when he caught you looking at him like you still had a teenage crush on Dean Winchester.

Because you did.

You always had.

Later, at Bobby’s, the three of you sprawled in the living room—Dean practically wrapped around you on the couch, arms snug around your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

Sam was across the room, doing some research on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer focus could block out the absolute nonsense happening beside him.

Dean, completely unbothered, nosed at your temple. “You cold?”

You weren’t.

At all.

But you hummed innocently, just to see what he’d do.

Dean, ever the problem, tugged you closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

You shivered.

He felt it.

And he smirked.

“You’re shameless,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip to repress a smile.

Dean nipped at your jaw. “Yeah?” His lips brushed your ear, and God, you felt it everywhere.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, meant just for you. “Wanna know somethin’?”

You swallowed. “What?”

Dean shifted, his mouth so close his breath fanned warm against your skin. “First time I saw you? When we were stupid teenagers?” His hands traced higher, fingers barely grazing the edge of your bra. “Damn near forgot how to breathe.”

Your stomach plummeted.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

Your heart hammered, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Sam is right there.”

Dean pulled back just enough to glance at his brother—who was clearly tuning you out, laser-focused on not acknowledging this entire situation.

“If he has a problem, he can get up and leave.”

You swatted at his chest, biting back a laugh, but when you turned to face him, his expression shifted—no teasing, no smugness. Just him, looking at you like he was seeing you all over again.

His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

And just like that, you felt seventeen again.

God, what was it about him that made you feel like this?

That made you ache?

Dean’s lips parted, his gaze flickering down to your mouth.

Your breath caught.

He grinned—slow, lazy, devastating. “You gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?”

You were sure your heartbeat was so loud.

Sam made a strangled noise in the background.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Jesus Christ, Sammy, just leave the damn room.”

“I'm living here too,” Sam deadpanned, not directing his gaze towards you.

Dean huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you—his eyes darker now, filled with something deep and warm and completely unshakable.

You swallowed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

This man knew what he wanted and, boy, he definitely got you.

But God, Dean Winchester was so much. And he had been from the start.

And you were so gone for him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: I should have posted this a long time ago lol, but it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted and I was a little unsure but I hope you liked it <3

taglist: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#dean winchester 🪽#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester x fem reader #dean supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural drabble #taylor swift fanfiction #jensen ackles fic

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lila-lou · 3 days ago

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✨Taking her in - Pt. 21✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Angst, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language

Word Count: 7234

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

That evening, you found yourself standing in front of Dean’s door, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt you wore. The fabric smelled like him, one you’d stolen months ago before anything between you and Dean had even started. Wearing it now felt comforting, almost like carrying a piece of him with you. After weeks of his retreating, today had felt like a breakthrough, even if your lower belly still ached from earlier.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip before finally raising your hand and knocking gently on the door. The knock was so soft it almost wasn’t there, but you knew Dean would hear it. He always seemed attuned to you in a way that felt both comforting and overwhelming.

“Yeah?”, his familiar voice called out, rough and low.

“It’s me”, you said softly, barely audible.

There was a shuffle inside, followed by a pause, and then the door opened. Dean stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his good hand braced on the wood. His green eyes took you in slowly, and you could feel his gaze lingering as he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his expression softened at the sight of you.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice low and warm. “What’s up?”.

You hesitated, words caught in your throat as your eyes darted anywhere but his face. You couldn’t explain why you felt so shy around him sometimes, especially when there were other moments you’d been so bold. But right now, with him towering over your much smaller frame, it was like every ounce of confidence had drained out of you.

He wasn’t even trying, and yet he completely unraveled you. The sight of him standing there in nothing but sweatpants, the outline of his dick visible through the fabric, made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch. His freckled chest was bare, the soft bulge of his muscles hinting at strength tempered by years of living that way he did. And that soft trail of freckles down his abdomen—it was almost unfair how effortlessly commanding he looked. Sometimes you forgot just how much older he was, how his presence could make you feel like you were being stared down by a goddamn storm.

Dean noticed your hesitation, his head tilting slightly as his smirk widened. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, the rasp in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“I, um…”. You trailed off, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. His gaze dropped briefly to where your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, and you caught the faintest flicker of something darker in his expression before he locked eyes with you again.

“Sweetheart”, he murmured, stepping closer until the toes of his bare feet almost touched yours. He loomed over you, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, or do I have to guess?”.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you managed to say, “I… I wanted to know if I could sleep in here tonight”.

Dean’s lips twitched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you fidget under his gaze. You were his girlfriend, after all—asking him if you could sleep in his bed felt almost absurd. But then again, you weren’t like anyone else. You were his way-too-young girlfriend, as he reminded himself constantly, and sometimes that mix of shyness and boldness that you carried was enough to throw him off-kilter.

“You’re asking?”, he said, his tone a mix of teasing and disbelief. His green eyes softened, but the smirk lingered, and he took another small step closer, his broad frame completely dwarfing yours now. “Sweetheart, you don’t need permission to be in here. It’s your bed as much as it is mine”.

You blinked up at him, your cheeks still flushed as you tried to find the words to respond. Dean caught the slight tremble in your bottom lip, the way you couldn’t quite hold his gaze for too long without looking away. His smirk softened into something more tender as he tilted his head slightly.

“What’s got you so damn nervous, huh?”, he asked quietly, his voice dipping lower. “It’s just me”.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh, your fingers still toying with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You’re not exactly ‘just you’ right now”, you mumbled, your words half teasing, half shy.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”.

You hesitated, glancing down at his chest before your eyes darted away again, your blush deepening. “You look like… that”, you muttered, gesturing vaguely toward him.

Dean’s smirk widened at your words, his eyes glinting with that mischievous spark that always seemed to make your stomach flutter. He tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment as you gestured vaguely toward him.

“And after this morning”, you added quickly, your voice dropping to a mumble, “I know what you can do with that”. You waved awkwardly toward his sweatpants, your face turning an even deeper shade of red as the words left your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared down at your bare toes against the cool bunker floor.

Dean chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing up your spine. “That so?”, he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement and something far darker. He took another small step closer, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you. “You’re thinking about that now, huh? That what’s got you all flustered, sweetheart?”.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes. You didn’t even know why everything felt so heated right now, why your cheeks were burning or why you couldn’t seem to calm the racing of your heart. Something about the side of Dean he’d shown you this morning—the side that had been so confident, so commanding, so utterly sure of himself—had your thoughts tangled up in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re the worst”, you muttered, your voice low and laced with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. You tried to step past him toward the bed, eager to escape the weight of his teasing gaze, but Dean had other plans.

Without missing a beat, his long arm extended to the side, his hand catching you gently but firmly at the shoulder. The move was effortless, fluid, and before you could protest, he was pulling you back against him, your smaller frame flush against his broad chest.

The warmth of him was immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon, and your breath hitched as you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. His arm dropped from your shoulder, wrapping around your waist instead, holding you in place as his good hand rested lightly against your hip. The sheer size of him, the way his body seemed to completely envelop yours, made your cheeks flush even more.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the rough rasp sending a shiver through you. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he leaned down slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Not gonna run away from me, are you?”.

Your hands instinctively flew to his arm, gripping it as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “Dean”, you said softly, your tone half a plea, half a warning.

His lips twitched into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “What?”, he asked innocently, though the way his hand tightened on your waist said otherwise. “You seem pretty eager to get away for someone wearing my shirt and thinking about this morning”.

You let out a huff of frustration, though it did little to hide the way your pulse was racing.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he took in your flustered state, clearly reveling in the effect he had on you. Before you could muster another retort, his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent a shiver racing through your body. The roughness of his stubble against your skin only heightened the sensation, and you felt your breath catch as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice shaky, though you weren’t sure if it was meant as a protest or a plea.

His good hand tightened on your hip, his thumb brushing the hem of your shirt as his lips continued their assault on your neck. “You say my name like that”, he murmured against your skin, his voice low and gravelly, “and you really think I’m just gonna let you go?”.

Before you could respond, his hand dropped lower, slipping between your legs with deliberate ease. The heat pooling in your core flared as his fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, the touch light but purposeful. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as his lips lingered there. “Let’s see if you’re as dripping wet as I think you are”.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you in a way that made your knees weaken. His movements were slow, almost teasing, but the heat radiating from his touch left no doubt about his intent. When his fingers slid against your slickness, he let out a low, throaty groan that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Shit”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “I knew it”. His voice was rough, almost strained, as he continued to stroke you with agonizing precision. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Did I do this to you? Huh?”.

You whimpered softly, unable to find the words as his fingers worked you expertly. The intensity of his touch, paired with the way he towered over you, made it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Tell me”, he demanded softly, his tone dark and commanding as his thumb brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. “Tell me who made you like this”.

“You”, you gasped, your grip on his arm tightening as your body arched into his touch. “You, Dean”.

His smirk returned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl”.

"Dean", you begged.

He didn’t need you to explain what you were begging for—he could see it in your flushed cheeks, your trembling hands, the way your body pressed into him as if seeking something only he could give. But he also knew about the ache still lingering in your belly, the soreness from earlier, and that knowledge tempered his hunger with something deeper: care.

Without missing a beat, Dean shifted his grip on your hips and pushed you gently toward the bed. The movement was firm but careful, his touch steady as he guided you backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress. You gasped softly as you fell back onto the bed, your hair spilling across the covers, but he didn’t give you time to think, to hesitate, or to pull away.

Dean followed immediately, his strong frame settling between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs firmly but tenderly. His green eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of desire and determination. “I’ve got you”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

With a deliberate motion, he spread your legs wider, his hands sliding down to hook under your knees and hold you open for him. The sight of you laid out like this, flushed and vulnerable, made his chest tighten with possessive pride. He didn’t bother pulling your panties off; instead, he grabbed the damp fabric and pushed it aside, exposing your glistening center to his hungry gaze.

“Look at you”, Dean muttered, his tone dark with awe as his good hand traced the curve of your inner thigh. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect”.

You squirmed under his gaze, the heat of his words making your cheeks burn as you mumbled, “Dean, please…”.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against your inner thigh as he whispered, “I know, baby. I know what you need”. His thumb pressed lightly against your swollen folds, teasing you with a feather-light touch. “But you’re sore, aren’t you?”.

You nodded shyly, your breath hitching as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle. “Yeah”, you admitted softly.

Dean smirked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Then let me take care of you", he said, his voice rough with promise. “Nice and slow, sweetheart. I’ll make it good. You just lie back and let me handle everything”.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, his smirk softening into something darker, hungrier, as he drew in a deep breath. “Mmmm”, he murmured, the sound low and throaty, almost as if he were savoring the thought.

“Did I ever tell you”, he started, his voice rough and quiet, “how sweet you taste? Huh?”. His green eyes flicked back up to yours, his lips quirking into a smirk that was equal parts playful and sinful. “Always so fucking sweet”. The words were spoken more to himself than to you, as if he was completely lost in the moment, unable to resist you even if he wanted to.

You shivered under his gaze, your body already reacting to the intensity in his voice and the deliberate movements of his hand. “Dean…”, you whispered, your voice a mix of need and anticipation.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart”.

The rough pads of his fingers brushed against you, teasing along your folds with a deliberate slowness that left you trembling. When his thumb pressed against your most sensitive spot, your back arched slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The reaction pulled a low groan from Dean, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your thigh as he murmured, “Let me make you feel good, baby. Just relax”.

Dean’s lips closed around your wet clit with precision, drawing a deep, needy whimper from your throat as your body arched against his mouth. His tongue worked you with slow, deliberate movements, tracing patterns that left your mind spinning. Your wetness was everywhere—messily spread across his lips, his nose, his beard—and Dean loved every second of it.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. His good hand gripped your thigh tightly, keeping you spread and steady for him as he dove in with relentless focus. “So fucking sweet”, he mumbled between movements, his voice muffled but full of raw hunger. “Could taste you all night, sweetheart”.

His nose brushed against your clit as he pressed his tongue deeper, his beard scraping lightly against your inner thighs, adding a delicious friction to the already overwhelming sensations. Every part of him was immersed in you, lost in your taste, your scent, your trembling body beneath him.

Your fingers tangled in his short hair, pulling slightly as your hips bucked instinctively against his mouth. “Dean”, you gasped, your voice high and breathless as pleasure built rapidly in your core. “Dean, I—oh, Fuck”.

He growled low in his throat, the sound primal and possessive as he tightened his grip on you. His lips closed around your clit again, sucking gently before his tongue flicked against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your entire body shudder.

“You’re so damn perfect”, he murmured, his words punctuated by the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you. “This is mine—every inch of you, all mine”.

The claim sent a rush of heat through you, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightened further, threatening to snap under the intensity of his ministrations. Dean wasn’t letting up, wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as the tension in your belly reached its peak, your breath hitching as the edge loomed closer, Dean withdrew suddenly. The loss of his mouth on you was jarring, and a desperate whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body ached, trembling with the need for release, but Dean’s hands remained firm on your thighs, keeping you spread and exposed beneath him.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice shaking with frustration and desire as your hips bucked slightly, searching for the pressure he’d just stolen away. “Why did you—”.

“Shh, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and full of unshakable control. His green eyes burned with heat as he looked up at you, his lips and beard glistening with your wetness. “Not yet”.

You groaned, your head falling back against the mattress as your hands gripped the sheets. “Dean, please—”.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I always get you there so fast”, he said, almost to himself, his tone laced with teasing pride. “But right now? I want to take my time. Wanna watch you fall apart for me, nice and slow”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as his good hand trailed up your thigh, his touch deliberate and maddeningly slow. He leaned down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just above your knee, then another higher up, his stubble scratching deliciously against you.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at him, your cheeks flushed. “You’re killing me”.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he worked his way up your body, his kisses growing wetter, hotter, as he moved closer to where you needed him most. “You’ll survive”, he said, his tone laced with amusement. “But only if you behave”.

You bit your lip, trying to stay still as his lips hovered over your center, the heat of his breath making you shudder. He smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle, before dipping his head again, his tongue teasing along your folds in a slow, languid stroke.

“Good girl”, he murmured against your skin, the words sending a rush of heat through you. “Now, let’s see just how long I can keep you begging for me”.

Dean was relentless, dragging you right to the edge over and over again, only to pull back just as your body began to tremble, desperate for release. His tongue, lips, and fingers moved with maddening precision, each touch calculated to drive you wild. The sheer intensity of it had your entire body taut with tension, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead, your chest rising and falling as you clutched the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white from the force of your grip. Your thighs trembled in his hands, the overstimulation and denial leaving you a wreck. “Dean”, you whimpered, your voice cracking as you looked down at him, your eyes glassy and filled with desperation. “Please, I—I can’t—”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smirk playing on his glistening lips. “You can”, he rasped, his voice deep and full of command. “And you will”. His thumb brushed over your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your hips jerk against his hold. “You’ll come when I say you can”.

A frustrated whine escaped you, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the release he’d been denying you for what felt like an eternity. “Dean”, you pleaded again, tears brimming in your eyes as your chest heaved. “Please, I can’t take anymore”.

He chuckled, the sound dark and full of satisfaction as he kissed the inside of your thigh, the scruff of his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. “Oh, sweetheart”. he murmured, his breath hot against your flesh. “You can take everything I give you. You’re my girl, aren’t you? My good girl”.

You nodded frantically, tears spilling over as your body writhed beneath his unrelenting touch. “Yes”, you choked out. “Yes, Dean, I am”.

“That’s right”, he growled, his voice low and full of authority. His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, circling slowly as his other hand gripped your hip to keep you in place. “And good girls listen, don’t they? So hold on for me, sweetheart. Just a little longer”.

The sheer command in his voice sent another wave of heat through you, and despite the overwhelming need coursing through your body, you nodded, your lips trembling. “Okay”, you whispered, barely able to form the word as he pushed you to the edge once more, your entire body quivering with the effort to hold back.

Eventually, you lay completely spent in his arms, your body still trembling from the intensity of everything Dean had put you through. Your chest rose and fell against his, your heart still drumming wildly in your ears as you struggled to catch your breath. The air in the room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and satisfaction clinging to your skin as you melted against him.

Dean held you close, his good hand tracing soft, absentminded circles on your back, his touch a stark contrast to the way he had dominated you moments ago. The shift in him was always so seamless—the way he could be so commanding, so ruthless in his control, and then turn around and hold you like this, like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Your lips parted slightly as you finally found your voice, though it was hoarse and barely above a whisper. “What was this called again?”, you asked breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him.

Dean smirked, his fingers still ghosting over your bare skin as he let out a soft chuckle. “You mean what I just did to you?”, he teased, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You swallowed, your face heating as you tried to form words. “Yeah. The whole… not letting me…”. You trailed off, your cheeks burning, but Dean understood exactly what you meant.

“Edging”, he murmured, his smirk widening as he pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead. “It’s called edging, sweetheart”.

You let out a small, exhausted sigh, your fingers weakly gripping at his chest. “You’re evil”, you muttered, nuzzling into him as if trying to hide your face.

Dean chuckled again, the sound deep and rich as his arms tightened around you. “Evil?”, he repeated, mock-offended. “I just gave you more orgasms than you can probably count, and you’re callin’ me evil?”.

You huffed, still too drained to argue, and instead closed your eyes, letting his warmth consume you. “Maybe just a little”, you mumbled sleepily.

Dean grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before resting his chin atop your head. “Get some sleep, baby”, he whispered against your hair. “You’re gonna need it”.

You chuckled breathlessly against Dean’s chest, your body still buzzing, your mind too wired to even think about resting. “I don’t think I can sleep”, you admitted, your voice a soft murmur against his skin.

Dean hummed low in his throat, his fingers still tracing slow, lazy circles on your back. “That so?”, he mused, his voice deep and gravelly, still tinged with satisfaction. “Guess I might’ve overdone it, huh?”.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe just a little”, you teased, though the exhaustion in your limbs betrayed you.

Dean smirked, his good hand moving up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Well, sweetheart”, he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “I could always tire you out some more”.

Your breath caught slightly, your already spent body twitching at the implication in his tone. “Dean”, you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the warmth pooling in your belly made it clear that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Relax, baby”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Not gonna push you”. His fingers kept their soothing motions on your back, grounding you, easing you back into the quiet calm of the room.

You exhaled, nuzzling against him, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth and security of his embrace. “I just feel… too wired”, you admitted. “Like my body’s still trying to catch up with my brain”.

Dean sighed softly, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Alright”, he murmured, “how about this—I’ll hold you, and you just close those pretty eyes. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, sweetheart”.

You blinked up at him, something warm and soft settling in your chest. His words weren’t just reassuring—they were a promise. A reminder that despite everything, despite how rough and intense he could be, he would always take care of you.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded, whispering, “Okay”.

Dean pulled you closer, tucking you against him as his lips pressed against your hair. “That’s my girl”, he murmured.

And with his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you, the tension in your body finally began to ease. Sleep didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

The next morning, you stirred awake to the soft rustling of fabric and the faint clink of a belt buckle being fastened. Your body was still heavy with sleep, your muscles sore but content from the night before. Blinking against the dim light filtering into the room, you turned your head toward Dean.

He stood near the bed, shirtless, his back to you as he fastened his belt, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement. His duffel bag sat at the foot of the bed, packed and ready to go. It took a second for your foggy brain to piece it together, but when it did, your stomach dropped.

He was going on a hunt.

And he hadn’t told you.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand, where his phone lay face-up, the screen illuminated with the time—too early for him to be up unless something was going on. Swallowing thickly, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your voice still thick with sleep. “Dean?”.

He froze for a fraction of a second before sighing softly and turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was undeniable. “Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice gruff, like he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

Your gaze darted to his bag, then back to him. “Where are you going?”. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear him say it.

Dean hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “Got a job”, he finally admitted, not meeting your eyes. “Nothing big, just a quick run”.

Your stomach twisted. He was lying.

You pushed yourself more upright, wincing slightly at the dull ache in your belly from the night before, but you ignored it. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me?”, you asked, your voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable.

Dean sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sat on the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. His fingers laced together, his knuckles slightly white from how tightly he held them. “I wasn’t”, he admitted, his voice low. “Didn’t wanna wake you“.

“You didn’t want me to join, huh?”, you whispered absentmindedly, more to yourself than to him, but Dean heard it. The weight of your voice, the unspoken truth behind it, hung between you both. It was obvious. After the last hunt, where he had nearly gotten himself killed saving your ass, he didn’t want to take the chance again. Not with you. Not so soon.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly at your words, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he was bracing himself for an argument he didn’t want to have. His arm was still wrapped in the plaster, still cradled protectively against his side, a stark reminder that he wasn’t fully healed.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he ran his good hand over his face. “It’s not about that”, he said, but the lie was flimsy at best.

You narrowed your eyes, your chest tightening as frustration built inside you. “Then what is it about, Dean?”. You shifted fully, ignoring the sting in your belly as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets pooling around your thighs. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying to protect me from something I don’t need protecting from”.

His head snapped up at that, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath hitch. “You don’t need protecting?”, he repeated, his voice low, edged with something dangerous. “Sweetheart, last time you almost died”.

“Last time, you almost died”, you shot back, your tone unwavering.

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee. “Exactly”, he muttered. “And that’s not happening again”.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between you. Dean’s words echoed in your head, cutting through your frustration and hitting something deeper—something raw. You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of the sheets beneath you as guilt coiled tight in your chest.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, the words barely audible, but Dean caught them. His head snapped up, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he studied you.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “What the hell are you sorry for?”. His voice was gruff, laced with something rougher than anger—something closer to disbelief.

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Because”, you exhaled, “this is my fault, isn’t it?”. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and the vulnerability there must have hit him hard, because his whole body stiffened. “You never wanted to take me on that hunt. You warned me, told me I wasn’t ready, but I insisted. And then you—”. Your breath hitched, and you forced yourself to say it. “You got hurt. Badly”.

Dean’s jaw ticked, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, his good hand flexing into a fist against his thigh. His expression was tight, unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into a firm line.

“That what you think?”, he muttered finally, his voice dangerously low.

You bit your lip, unsure how to answer. Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Sweetheart, let me make one thing crystal fucking clear”, he said, his tone slow and deliberate. “You didn’t make me do a damn thing”.

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done.

“I make my own choices”, he continued, his voice rough, edged with something almost self-destructive. “I went on that hunt because I chose to. I threw myself in front of you because I chose to. You think I wouldn’t do that a thousand times over?”. His green eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to you if I could stop it?”.

Your throat tightened. “But you got hurt”.

Dean let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s what happens in this life, sweetheart. We get hurt. We bleed. We damn well almost die more times than we can count”. He inhaled sharply, his jaw working as he rubbed his good hand over his face. “I don’t blame you for that, so don’t you dare start blaming yourself”.

The guilt was still there, pressing against your ribs like a weight you couldn’t shake. But Dean’s words—his unfiltered, raw honesty—chipped away at it, just a little.

You shook your head. “I just—I don’t want to be the reason you end up—”. Your voice wavered, and you couldn’t finish.

Dean’s expression softened then, just slightly, and he leaned closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “The only thing that’ll kill me is this goddamn job”, he murmured, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Not you. Never you”.

Dean let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing absently over your chin as he stared at you. His touch was warm, steady, grounding—but it didn’t change the truth of what he was doing. His bag was packed. His belt was fastened. And he was about to leave. Without you.

You leaned into his palm, savoring the warmth, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you asked, “Then why are you leaving me behind?”.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, like he was trying to keep his own emotions in check, before letting his hand drop from your face. He sighed, rubbing his good hand over his jaw as if the weight of his own decisions was starting to crush him. When he finally looked at you again, his expression was unreadable—but his eyes, those damn green eyes, were filled with something raw.

“Because I have to”, he said quietly, and the way his voice cracked slightly at the end made your stomach twist. “Because if something happened to you out there, I—”. He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he clenched his jaw. His hands flexed at his sides, tension rolling off him in waves.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, blinking up at him. “So you just get to decide that?”, you asked, your voice trembling, but there was an edge to it now. “You get to choose when I’m involved, when I get to be part of this life? Part of your life?”.

Dean’s expression darkened, his jaw ticking as he stared at you. “It’s not a choice, sweetheart”, he said, his voice tight. “It’s keeping you safe”.

“But what if I don’t want to be safe?”, you shot back, standing up fully now despite the dull ache in your stomach. “What if I want to be with you, no matter what?”. Your voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion clawing its way up your throat. “You said it yourself, Dean—this job, it gets people hurt. It gets people killed. So what, I just sit here in the bunker and wait for you to come back? Wait for Sam to come back? Wonder if this is the time you don’t?”.

Dean’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his breathing uneven. He took a step back, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You don’t get it”, he muttered.

“Then make me get it”, you demanded, taking a step closer.

Dean let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You think you want this”, he said, his voice rough, almost bitter. “You think you can handle it. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love bleed out in front of you, knowing you can’t stop it. Knowing it’s your fault”. His voice wavered at the end, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve lost too many people, sweetheart. I can’t lose you too”.

Your breath hitched. The rawness in his voice, the way his body seemed coiled like a spring, like he was barely holding himself together—it was enough to shatter your anger in an instant. But it didn’t change the fact that he was still leaving.

You reached for his hand instinctively, lacing your fingers through his, gripping tight. “Dean”, you whispered, “I know this isn’t easy. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you—”.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment before he pulled away. Pulled away.

“I have to go”, he said softly, and the finality in his voice broke something inside you.

Dean had barely made it to the garage, his bag slung over his good shoulder, Sam already leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, waiting. He gave Dean a look—one that was equal parts You okay? and You sure about this? but Dean just sighed, shaking his head, already mentally pushing past whatever guilt was gnawing at him.

Then, before he could reach for the car door, he felt a sharp tug on his wrist.

Dean turned, startled by the sheer force of it, only to find you standing there, breathless, frustrated, and looking impossibly small in nothing but one of his shirts. The sight of you in it—bare legs, messy hair, eyes still heavy with sleep but blazing with determination—knocked the air out of his lungs. His heart clenched at how goddamn cute you looked, but the look on your face told him this wasn’t about that.

“At least give me a proper goodbye”, you grumbled, your fingers still curled tightly around his wrist.

Dean blinked down at you, stunned by your sudden presence, your sheer stubbornness. Sam, wisely, looked away, running a hand over his face like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sweetheart, you really came out here in just my shirt to pick a fight with me?”. His voice was low, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

Your brows furrowed, and you huffed, standing your ground despite the way he towered over you. “I’m not picking a fight”, you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “But I want the girlfriend treatment”.

Dean blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your response. A slow smirk spread across his face as he tilted his head, eyeing you with something that was half amusement, half god, you’re cute as shit. He took a step closer, his good hand twitching at his side like he was resisting the urge to just grab you and hold you close.

Sam, who had been attempting to stay out of this, groaned from the passenger seat. “Oh my god”, he muttered under his breath. “Just kiss her, Dean, so we can go”.

Dean ignored him, his green eyes locked onto yours as he reached out, his fingers grazing your chin before gently pinching your cheek. “Damn, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice full of affection. “You’re cute when you’re all demanding”.

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you swatted at his hand. “Dean”, you grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

His smirk softened into something more genuine, more him. “Alright, alright”, he said, lifting both hands in surrender before stepping even closer, his body warm and familiar as it loomed over yours. “You want the girlfriend treatment, huh?”.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression serious, but your heart was already racing at the way his eyes darkened just slightly, the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the damn world.

Dean let out a small chuckle before finally giving you what you wanted—what you needed. His hand cupped the side of your face, rough and warm, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a quick see you later kind of kiss. No, this was slow, lingering, meant to make up for the fact that he was leaving you behind. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his lips moved against yours with the kind of care that made your knees weak.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Better?”.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Better”, you admitted, even though you still hated watching him walk away.

“But don’t think we’re done talking about the hunting thing”, you mumbed and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“I know we’re not done”, he murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “You don’t let anything go that easy”.

You pulled back just enough to give him a pointed look, your arms still wrapped around yourself. “That’s because you’re being ridiculous”, you huffed. “I’ve trained for this, Dean. You and Sam both made sure of it. But now—”. You swallowed, trying to steady the tightness creeping into your chest. “Now that we’re… this, it’s like you’re putting me back on the sidelines”.

Dean sighed again, this time heavier, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “It’s not about that, sweetheart”.

You knew Dean—knew that once his mind was set, there was little you could do to change it in the moment. And as much as you wanted to fight him on this right now, you also knew that if he was up this early, if his bag was already packed, he had to go.

“We’ll talk when you’re home”, you whispered, finally relenting. You lifted yourself on your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean didn’t move at first, but then his good hand came up, curling around your waist, holding you there for just a second longer than necessary.

When you finally pulled away, you gave him a pointed look, your finger poking at the bare skin of his chest. “And that’s how you say goodbye”, you grumbled, your tone carrying just enough annoyance to mask the ache settling deep in your stomach.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle, his hand covering yours, pressing it against his chest like he wanted to keep you there. “Yes, ma’am”, he murmured, smirking, but there was something softer in his gaze now.

“I’ll be back before you know it”, he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You crossed your arms, watching as he grabbed his bag and moved toward the Impala. “You better”, you muttered under your breath, but he heard it.

Dean turned back one last time, flashing you a wink before slipping into the driver’s seat. Sam gave you a small nod before following him in, and just like that, they were gone.

And you stood there, arms still wrapped around yourself, already counting down the hours until he came home.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily- @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#jensen ackles #dean and sam #deanwinchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #taking her in

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heylittleriotact · 1 day ago

Text

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

Emmrich works, Rook shops, dinner is imminent

Link to ao3 or read below the cut.

“Three times?”

“Yup.”

“And then this morning too?”

“Mhmm.”

“Damn. He must have been thirsting after you for ages.”

Rook tried not to look too pleased with herself as she regarded the shelf of dried pastas in front of her, purportedly deciding what shape she wanted, but in reality her mind was wandering down the enthralling path of recently forged memories from the night before.

The feeling of his lips on hers.

His scent.

The way he moaned while he was fucking her: not forced or put on. Instead, it was like he had never enjoyed anything in life quite so much as being entangled with her…

I’m in the grocery store with my best friend, picking up supplies for dinner - now is not the time.

Too late though: thoughts of Emmrich had already taken root, and sinful need slithered through her organs, twining around her guts and settling deep in her belly, impossible to ignore.

Later. Soon…

“Does he have Instagram? Facebook? I wanna see this silver-fox-fuck-machine for myself.”

“He doesn’t,” Rook said quietly, her lips curling at the absurdity of Emmrich having any kind of social media accounts. Most funeral professionals had nearly invisible online footprints - in an age where everyone you ever met was likely to look you up online, remaining largely unsearchable was the only sure way to guarantee your privacy.

“LinkedIn?”

Rook wrinkled her nose and pulled a box of linguine off the shelf, tossing it in the basket Leon held. “What? Cuz he’s old?”

“I mean… yeah?” Leon shrugged, his soft, dark brown eyes widening innocently.

“Shut up, Leon,” Rook squeezed past him, bumping her shoulder against his pointedly despite the abundance of space in the empty aisle.

“What?” He giggled, falling into step behind her, shaking his luxurious mane of thick black hair. “Nothing to be ashamed of - you were the one that couldn’t shut up about him at the Mussels Absinthe show a few weeks ago. You bagged yourself a sugar daddy - good for you! Wish I had that pull.”

Her cheeks heated as they wandered towards the produce section, “Can you maybe try not using your fucking radio voice while we’re discussing my sex life in the grocery store on a Thursday afternoon?”

“Just sex then?” Leon forged on, not bothering to lower his warm, booming voice at all. “Or have the seeds of romance been planted and fertilized?”

“Leon.” Rook ground out, looking around to make sure no one else was being subjected to this.

“Oh yeah,” he remarked observantly, “You fucking like him, don’t you?”

“What’s not to like?” Rook retorted, manhandling a practical, sound-minded bit of dignity into the conversation as she selected a basket of mushrooms. “He’s stable, supports himself, has a functioning vehicle that’s not filled to the windows with garbage, doesn’t bitch when I tell him to wear a condom, and knows how to get a girl off.” She dropped a mesh bag of garlic bulbs into the basket with unwarranted spite. “Bet he won’t ask me to buy weed for him and his band buddies, or go running to Mummy for rent money each month either.”

“I love it.” Leon said, rubber voice adopting a whimsical tone, as he switched the basket to his other hand and squeezed a grapefruit because Rook knew he’d eyed it and felt like he needed to. “The complete about-face rebound from pie-in-the-sky wannabe rockstar burnout to sophisticated man-about-town is truly inspiring. Tommy is gonna shit himself.”

“It’s not a rebound, and Tommy’s not gonna know a damn thing about it,” Rook snapped, sounding just as harsh as she intended to. “That fucking dickhead doesn’t deserve a window into whatever happens to be going on in my life. He lost that privilege when he fucked that stupid waitress at The Hanged Man… and that was after the shithead already fucked around once and got caught.” She shoved a few shallots into a bag, pretending she was shoving them down Tommy’s throat. “I know he asks around about me - I’m not stupid - and you’d better not be fucking telling him anything about me: I don’t want him knowing where I work, what I’m up to, who I’m fucking, or even what I’m doing with my fucking hair these days. He’s a piece of shit and I hope he chokes on his fucking tongue.”

“Point taken,” Leon raised his eyebrows. “And just so you know: I haven’t said a word to him - and I never would. I haven’t even seen him around at shows or anything for the past month at least.”

“Good,” Rook quipped, calm entering her voice. “Maybe he’s finally made himself useful and gotten a fucking job. Or better yet: done us all a favour and dropped dead.”

It was always one thing to make arrangements with a family that clearly didn’t know much about their loved one in life, but it was quite another thing altogether to sit in an arrangement office with the overwhelmed family trying to guide them towards decisions while simultaneously steering them away from ones that their loved one was blatantly disagreeing with in real time.

“Next! I really don’t care for gerber daisies and I haven’t a clue as to why they think I have some sort of attachment to them.”

Emmrich subtly glanced up from the pages of the binder of floral arrangements into the ghostly visage of the recently deceased octogenarian hovering around it with the rest of her family.

Over the years he had mastered the art of subtly urging the living towards the decisions of the dead, but it wasn’t always easy: it was a balancing act on both fronts that to his knowledge, no other funeral professionals but himself had to manage: the rest only had to worry about satisfying the living. Emmrich had to make sure everyone was pleased.

Try explaining that to the dead, though: the average person rarely considered it in life, but the reality was that funerals were - and always had been - just as much for the living as they were for the dead. Of course celebrating the life and legacy of the departed was of utmost importance, but the communal event itself: the ritual of a funeral, be it Andrastian, Qunari, non denominational, or anything in between was arguably more for the people left behind than the ones who did the leaving: an opportunity for the bereaved to come together and support each other through the heaviest days of their grief. To weep, and laugh, and share stories and regrets. But the world was changing, and fewer and fewer people saw the value in said rituals. Thought them trite and old-fashioned and impractical.

It was a shame, really. But as it stood, society seemed to prefer to grieve privately… or not at all, preferring to bury their sorrows in busy things like work, and commitments; happy to deny that they felt anything at all in favour of letting that vacuous wound inside of them fester and scar rather than accepting the laborious journey of grief and the healing that came with it. No one liked saying goodbye. No one enjoyed losing a loved one. But… that was life, wasn’t it?

And of course, what came after death was a mystery to everyone. Even Emmrich, who had been able to commune with the metaphysical imprints of the recently deceased since childhood was unable to say for certain what followed that final breath: not everyone became a ghost, it seemed, and those that did tended not to linger overlong - less out of choice, he knew: the echo of a soul could seemingly only sustain itself in this realm for a finite time, becoming progressively less substantial before eventually fading away forever. Where it went after that, he couldn’t say.

That was what kept him awake at night. Not the awful music someone might choose, or the fear that his funeral would be poorly attended. No - it was the creeping, uncaring entropy of death itself. The utterly dispassionate way it claimed everybody and everything. The way it would eventually claim him too.

“While we were working on your Mother’s obituary, I recall that you indicated she kept a garden at your childhood home in Cumberland. Are you able to remember if there were any flowers that she particularly enjoyed growing there?”

Of course he was asking her surviving son and daughter, but he was most certainly asking the ghost of Maude Laviolette as well. Something to go off of from any of them would be helpful at this point - they had been in arrangements for nearly two hours by then, and it was clear that everyone was growing tired.

“Delphiniums. Stock. Snapdragons.” Mrs. Laviolette ticked off garden flowers on her ghostly fingers, her voice an echoing melody composed of emotion and memory.

As the Laviolette siblings looked at each other over the table, trying to work out exactly what flowers their mother might have grown all those years ago, Emmrich flipped a few laminated pages of the binder, allowing himself to idly wonder what sort of flowers Rook liked - or if she even cared for them at all. It was so difficult to tell with her - assumptions almost always turned out to be wrong in her case, but she clearly had an affection for things that grew, so surely she appreciated the beauty of flowers?

“Perhaps an arrangement similar to this one here? The ‘Garden Stroll’ casket spray?” He tapped a ringed finger over the picture of a stunning arrangement of delphiniums, spray roses, mums, and iris that ranged from a delicate, powdery blue, to deep violet, to white.

“Oooooh you clever man!” The echo of the elderly woman clasped her hands under her chin and joy crept into her voice. “This is lovely! Could we swap out the mums for stocks and add in some snapdragons?”

“Oh yeah! Some of these look a lot like what Mum grew. The blue ones especially!” Eve Laviolette looked at her brother and pointed at the delphiniums in the photo. “Remember these ones, Aiden?”

Aiden Laviolette scratched at his dark brown beard and squinted at the binder.“I do. I do remember those. But there were others too that were kind of similar…”

“Snapdragons?” Emmrich prompted, for all intents and purposes, a senior mortician who was very well acquainted with flowers after so many years of doing this.

“That’s it!” Aiden exclaimed, “Snapdragons!”

“May I suggest if you’re adding the snapdragons, for the overall shape and spirit of the arrangement, you might consider switching out the chrysanthemums for some nice, gentle stocks? I’ve seen a similar arrangement where it was done to great effect.”

It wasn’t lying. Not really. Just… massaging the truth such that everyone - whether they had a pulse or not - was happy… or as happy as they could be given the circumstances…

He flipped to another page to show them an arrangement that featured some stocks.

“Eve, don’t you think that maybe Mum grew these too?”

Eve leaned over the page to take a closer look and gasped. “She did! What are the odds?” She looked up at Emmrich, her thin lips curving into a generous smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think she was giving you instructions from beyond the grave!”

Emmrich returned the smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly as his face took on the oft-used expression that imparted comfort and peace to those living through dark days.

“A happy coincidence only, I’m afraid, but one that Mrs. Laviolette would be pleased with, I hope.”

His eyes strayed ever so slightly over Eve’s shoulder to see the phantom of Maude Laviolette, looking chuffed as anything as she looked over her daughter at the picture of the chosen floral arrangement.

“Thank you, young man,” she said, rubbing her daughter’s upper arm with the tender familiarity that only a mother could impart. Eve’s expression changed to one of surprise as she looked up at the touch, looking over her shoulder and seeing nothing. “You really are a credit to your profession. Thank you for taking such good care of my kids - Maker knows they need it right now.”

Emmrich entered the customizations for the casket spray into the file, went over the remaining details that needed to be decided that day, and printed the contracts to the administration office.

Taking the navy blue garment bag containing the clothing that Mrs. Laviolette’s family had brought for her to wear, he excused himself, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He would see to the contracts and give Eve and Adrien a few minutes to chat openly amongst themselves and have some space without the pressure of a near-stranger sharing the room with them.

Rebecca (‘Becks’ as she was known to most) handed him the itemized clothing intake form he’d gone over with the family and printed out, and he folded it in half and placed it inside the garment bag before writing Mrs. Laviollete’s name on a manila tag and attaching it to the clothing hanger with a rubber band.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” he handed the permanent marker he’d used to sign the tag back to Becks and took the contracts from her next. “Oh, could I trouble you for a jewelry envelope? They also brought her glasses, her wedding rings, and a pair of earrings if memory serves.”

The relief admin reached into a drawer under the desk and surfaced with a self-sealing, manila envelope, adding it to Emmrich’s growing pile of paperwork.

It was always strange seeing someone else sitting at Rook’s desk. He’d gotten so used to seeing her there over the past months. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Rebecca - quite the contrary: she was very good at her job, and a lovely person, but she wasn’t Rook.

“Did you get permission to post the obit on the website?”

“Ah! I thought I may have forgotten something… my apologies, Rebecca - I’ll be sure to ask before they leave.” He treated her to an apologetic smile and scrawled a few x’s on the contract to better indicate where the family needed to sign.

“Forgetting things, Emmrich?” Remarked Joan, the other permanent chapel administrator from her own desk. She was in her forties and had tightly curled hair the exact colour of nutmeg. She twirled her pen in her hand and smirked at Emmrich - this sort of harmless teasing was not unusual from Joan. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fight you clearly lost with an octopus last night, would it?”

Oh dear - his collar must have slipped down, revealing the deep mauve love bites Rook had left on his neck.

“That’s hardly any of your business, dear Joan,” he retorted curtly, adjusting his collar with dignity as he continued to review the funeral contracts.

“You gonna bring them to the Wintersend dinner?” She demanded, and Emmrich threw a cautionary glance at Becks as she failed to subtly lean over her desk to try and catch a glimpse at his neck.

“Perhaps,” he flipped the page, circled the price of the casket upgrade that they had discussed. His phone vibrated in his breast pocket, heralding the arrival of a text message - he already knew who it was from, and his stomach fluttered pleasantly. “We shall see.”

“You haven’t brought a date in years,” Joan said. “Was just talking about it with Wayne-“ ah yes, Wayne: Joan’s husband who worked at the nearby cemetery - somewhat rough around the edges, but a lovely fellow all the same. “- last one was that uh… what was she an art appraiser or something?”

“An art dealer,” Emmrich sighed, focusing intently on the contract hoping that Joan would take the hint: he saw little reason to stand around discussing a former flame with colleagues. Not with a family next door.

“That’s right!” Joan pointed her pen at him. “Any idea what she’s up to these days?”

Emmrich bit back his annoyance and forced his expression to remain stoic. “I haven’t any reason to, so no.”

He preferred not to think about Philomena. Preferred not to think about how the avant-gardé and eclectic Orlesian patron of the arts was initially swept off her feet by his charm and eccentricity; his passionate need to understand death and all of its facets, and his almost poetic talent for finding splendour and hope amongst decay and putrefaction.

He felt terrible about himself whenever he thought too hard about her, and he was reminded by his subconscious that she’d gone back to Orlais about a year into their relationship and stopped calling him, texting him, and emailing him without a word of warning.

He never really understood why - never got a tidy explanation - but he had a few guesses: likely a culmination of many things - one too many cocktail or dinner parties amongst the elite creatives of Nevarra where he misread the room. One too many anecdotes about death or decomposition delivered with the casual ease of someone describing the process of preparing an omelette: “It’s a commonly held misconception that rigor mortis is a permanent affliction, however, the stiffening of joints and muscles after you pass on only lasts for a few short hours. Admittedly it can make it challenging for one to manipulate the extremities during that time, but simply massaging the affected areas causes rigor to subside in short order, restoring flaccidity and range of movement so the limbs can be moved freely once more.”

“… Ohhh!” Someone would say with feigned enthusiasm after too many moments had passed without anyone saying anything. “How… interesting!”

The slightly agape mouths and raised eyebrows told a different story.

Add to that one too many declarations of love and romantic intent: words trotted out in flowery verse; expensive gifts lavished with the unspoken hope that they could make him enough in her eyes: I can provide, see? You will never want for anything. I am safe. I am kind. I love you, I love you, I love you - will you love me?

He knew he got too attached too quickly and too easily. He always had, and when he was inevitably left to clean up the aftermath of another lover’s hasty departure from his life, his old friend and colleague, Johanna was always quick to point out that of course he had managed to frighten yet another one away with his saccharine yearning - as if he needed reminding.

Not that he cared what Johanna thought, but he could practically hear her calling him a cradle-robbing pervert upon learning about Rook.

And would she be wrong?

Sighing again, he marked up one more place on the contract before heading back to the arrangement office.

As he vanished around the corner, he heard Joan say to Becks too loudly for it to be accidental, “Seems pretty miserable for a dude that just got laid.”

I really should have taken her out for dinner first. How thoughtless of me…

The guilt hadn’t subsided by the time he arrived home to shower, change, feed Manfred, and return to Rook’s apartment.

She’d messaged him twice throughout the day. Once in the morning to say she’d had a nice night, and once in the afternoon to say she was looking forward to seeing him again shortly - that one had been accompanied by a picture of her wearing nothing but a towel, the curves of her perfect breasts just barely concealed by the grey terry; drenched hair dripping tantalizingly over her skin.

He was grateful he’d waited to look at that one until after the Laviolette family left, because within minutes of opening it, the utterly gorgeous still frame of her had him rock hard, and he found himself shamefully jerking off in a stall in the staff bathroom, desperate to finish so he could refocus himself and concentrate on his final arrangement meeting of the day like he wasn’t some sort of lurid sex obsessed deviant who had successfully reduced a woman like Rook down to a vapid sex object.

He was grateful for a change that the family he was assisting wanted a direct cremation with no service, no viewing, and no obituary. The sole executor brought the will, and was the only person attending the meeting. Everything had been prepaid in advance by the deceased, so there were no changes nor any new decisions to be made: simple, quick, and to the point.

Despite this, Emmrich still managed to spell the word ‘preparation’ incorrectly three times in a row, and almost gave the son making the arrangements Rook’s business card instead of his own.

There was nothing for it: he was a mess.

A besotted, smitten, horny mess, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before he frightened her away too. What was he thinking? That this young, beautiful creature with a lifetime of promise and possibilities before her would be in a hurry to tie herself down to a man old enough to be her father?

That she would happily embrace the strange looks they would almost certainly get in public as people drew conclusions they had no business drawing?

That she would quickly come to know the worst of him that dwelled beneath the thin veneer that was the ‘best’? The insecurity and loneliness and self-loathing; the irrational fears and anxieties that kept him awake at night and overwhelmed his mind at times, leaving him little more than a quivering, hyperventilating wreck, curled up under the blankets and praying for the Ativan to kick in soon.

She would figure out that he was too much. Too different. Too weird - even by the very broad definition applied by morticians.

He would have to tell her that he could see and speak with the dead.

He would have to tell her that more than anything in life, he was afraid of dying - a wildly contradictory fear for one in this profession.

She was going to know before long that the carefully crafted facade of Emmrich Volkarin was a lie - brazenly thrust into the world, and effective only because of the sheer amount of time he’d been insisting upon it.

She doesn’t deserve this.

She deserves a future full of joy and potential and dreams that are entirely attainable, should she only dare to wish for them.

I didn’t even ask her to dinner before I slept with her…

It seemed stupid to get hung up on that, but he was: mutual feelings or not, it fell to him to take the lead, and rather than controlling himself and treating Rook with the respect she was due, he took her to bed and didn’t even have the decency to spend the entire night.

She deserves respect, and here I’m treating her like a fantasy…

Tuning out Manfred as he twined around and through his ankles, coating the hem of his pant legs with white fur, Emmrich sighed and pulled out his phone, preparing to call Rook and tell her he couldn’t do it - he wasn’t coming over.

But before he could place the call, a banner appeared at the top of his screen.

Another message from Rook.

‘Are you on your way yet?’

A reasonable and fair question - that wasn’t the part of the message that made his eyes prickle unexpectedly. It was the words that followed.

‘I miss you.’

‘I just made it home - I’ll be over soon - close to 7:00. I miss you too, Rook. I missed you all day.’

Just as he said he would, Emmrich arrived right at 7:00. Rook had spent the last twenty minutes stationed at the window again, staring down the length of her street, her stomach leaping whenever she saw headlights turn off the main road.

When she finally saw the recognizable shape of Emmrich’s lights, her stomach flip-flopped even harder, and she pushed away from the window, taking a moment to check herself over one last time in the mirrored closet doors to make sure she had dressed herself properly: her hair was nicely pinned up in a bun with stray wisps pulled loose to frame her face, and she turned her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder to check for the twentieth time that she hadn’t accidentally tucked the hem of her stretchy burgundy velvet mini dress into her thong. Her stockings were free of runs, and she hadn’t managed to soak sweat stains under her arms yet - though she suspected that was about to change. Her makeup still looked pristine, and the softly tinted gloss she’d chosen over her traditional matte red lipstick still looked good.

Satisfied, she slipped out of her apartment and down the stairs where she waited at the front door for Emmrich to appear, emerging from the dark to stride up the walkway, as elegant and refined as ever.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight she’d been waiting all day to see: him - with his perfectly styled silver hair and his angular, distinguished face. He wore the same black pea coat from the night before, and had switched out the brown chinos for charcoal grey tweed trousers that bore the same impeccable tailoring. With his expensive looking Antivan wingtips and his cream coloured scarf he looked like a bougie fashion journalist or something.

He looked fucking hot.

“Fuck me…” she murmured under her breath before flinging the door open and grinning at him. “Hey.”

“Hello, Rook,” he beamed, stepping inside and taking the weight of the door from Rook, letting it close shut gently behind him.

He was holding a white paper shopping bag, and his glasses fogged up again the same way they had before, and for a moment she was at a loss for what to do with herself as they occupied the small vestibule.

Making a decision for both of them, he swept her against him with his unburdened arm and brushed his lips over her left cheek, then her right, before releasing her.

“I’m sorry it took me so long - traffic and Manfred, you see.”

Hoping he couldn’t see her sway in place as the elation of being touched by him again negated her ability to balance properly, she unlocked the main door and he followed her inside and up the stairs.

“Oh no… no problem at all. I know it’s a long drive. How was Manfred?”

“Oh he managed to break into the pantry today and ate an entire loaf of bread. I think he’s rather upset that I was absent last night for far longer than I usually am.”

Guilt wrung Rook’s gut then. “Sorry,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, offering a sympathetic grimace as they continued their ascent. “I’d say you could bring him with you next time, but there’s a ‘no pets’ policy and my landlord is a real prick about it - last year the old man in 204 got a hermit crab to keep him company after his wife died and the prick made him get rid of the little guy.”

“How sad,” Emmrich frowned, looking genuinely sorrowful at this.

“I brought him a house plant - a cutting of Perry, actually - and I try to visit him once a week for coffee. He’s grateful, but I think he’d be happier with his hermit crab… or his wife for that matter.”

Emmrich’s mouth curved in a soft smile, though the melancholy didn’t leave his eyes. “That’s very sweet of you, Rook.”

“It’s not,” she argued placidly. “It’s just the right thing to do: people should look out for each other, but for some reason they just… don’t and it annoys the fuck out of me.”

“That makes two of us,” Emmrich agreed, wincing slightly as they made it to the landing of Rook’s floor.

“Shit, sorry - are you okay?”

“Oh yes, just the ever-present protestations of knees that I should have cared for better in my youth.”

Rook didn’t know what to say to that. She certainly couldn’t render solidarity in the form of a believable ‘Ugh! Me too! Fucking achy joints amirite?’

She didn’t have achy joints: she was 25.

So instead she just nodded and opened the door to her apartment, ushering Emmrich inside with the same elevated politeness that she ushered families into visitation rooms with.

“What have you got there?” She asked, pointing at the bag that he had set down in the entryway so he could undo his scarf and slip out of his coat.

“Give me a moment to sort myself out and I’ll show you,” he retorted with the tempered ease she’d come to know. He hung his coat and the scarf on a hanger and put them in the closet before removing his shoes. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Damn right I do - I don’t dress up in my own house for just anybody.

“Thank you.”

Emmrich straightened and pushed his shoes to the side of the mat with his foot. He was wearing dark green dress socks with a beige diamond pattern on them, and a black turtleneck that made for a decidedly Warhol-esque look.

They regarded each other silently for moments that lasted far longer than they had any right to, clearly both at a loss as to how best to proceed.

“I uh… haven’t started dinner yet, but if you want some wine, I—“

Something seemed to snap into place in Emmrich’s brain and his eyes widened at her words. “Wine. Right!” He scooped the white paper bag up from the floor and reached inside, withdrawing a visibly dusty bottle and handing it to Rook. “You must forgive me - I didn’t think to ask what was on the menu tonight, so it might be a poor pairing - foolish of me - but the… the wine I brought you last night is… well it’s…“ he sighed wearily, “This will be far more palatable, trust me.”

Rook looked at the bottle in her hands, swaths of dust cleared away to reveal dark, shining glass where her fingers and his had touched it.

She was far from a connoisseur of wines, generally opting to drink anything that had a price tag of $10 or less - or came in a box - and would surely get her drunk faster than beer.

“This is… this is… really nice wine, isn’t it?”

Emmrich made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, “Hardly the nicest, but a definitive improvement on anything with a screw-top.”

Rook swallowed, feeling out of her depth: poor… stupid… uncultured.

Seeming to pick up on her discomfort, he plucked the bottle from her hands and wiped the remaining dust from the label. “It’s from my personal collection: one of a few that I have left from a good year. I think I purchased a case of these for eighteen dollars per bottle, so it’s less that I broke the bank, and more that I stumbled upon something good and decided I wanted to hold onto it.”

“I don’t even know if I have a corkscrew,” she admitted, still feeling sheepish.

“Well we’ll sort that out if we need to,” he treated her to that easy, nonjudgmental smile again and picked up the bag again, handing it to her. “For you.”

Rook’s eyebrow raised when she accepted the bag. She peered into it, then back to Emmrich, then she abandoned the entryway, placing the bag on the kitchen counter and reaching inside.

Her fingers closed around a hard ceramic pot, swaddled in cardboard and plastic. Carefully lifting it, she set the pot on the counter and pried the plastic away, revealing a plant with deep green leaves and a woody stem. Its delicate limbs curled prettily upwards, and small white buds were nestled in the fragrant greenery.

She gently rubbed a leaf between her thumb and forefinger, saying hello to her new friend.

“You brought me a plant?” She asked, staring at the fledgling creature, her heart filling. “What florist is even open at this hour?”

“Odella’s, of course,” Emmrich answered, naming the florist that McDermott & Rafferty had contracted out for funeral flowers for years.

She felt his presence drawing close to her, heard him place the wine bottle on the counter gently, then felt his hand on the narrow curve of her waist - almost tentatively at first until it became obvious that she was not going to flinch away… only then did it settle. With his other hand he brushed a sprig of leaves and stooped slightly behind her, placing his face alongside hers.

“I thought to bring you flowers at first, but this seemed a more fitting offering than an impermanent and fleeting bouquet, given your passion for growing things.”

She didn’t understand why at the time, but the fact that he remembered - or even cared - about her affinity for houseplants made something tighten in her chest.

Tommy hated them. He thought they were a waste of time. Told her if she was gonna bother putting so much energy into growing something, it might as well be smokable.

“Do you… like it?”

Rook realized that she hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t said anything. Not so much as a ‘thank you’.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, though she hadn’t any clue what it was. “It’s… it’s a…?”

“A jasmine plant,” Emmrich assisted. “It will bloom for you in time, so the flowers are forthcoming.”

Rook pulled her gaze from the small potted plant and turned against the edge of the counter so she was facing Emmrich.

“Something to look forward to, then,” she smiled, looking up at his kind face. She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Thank you. For the plant, and the wine… you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he entreated, his sweet, spearmint scented breath washing over her cheeks as she fixated on the enticing shape of his lips.

She still needed to start dinner. She hadn’t even put music on. She promised him a meal, and here she was, wasting time…

“You been tested recently?”

The amorous look in Emmrich’s eyes vanished, replaced with confusion. “Tested? I—?”

“STI panel.”

“Oh!” The faintest blush crept over the bridge of his nose and he looked at the cupboards over her shoulder. “Every year, or after a new partner, whichever comes first, but… I haven’t had a new partner in some time and-“

“You’re clean?”

The flush deepened, diffusing over his cheeks. “W-well yes, of course, but-"

Satisfied, Rook pushed away from the counter enough to drop to a crouch, one knee brushing the floor as she undid Emmrich’s belt buckle and slipped the button of his trousers loose.

Catching on, he managed to babble, “Rook, darling, y-you don’t have to-“ before she dropped his zipper and pulled his dick out of his underwear, casting one cheeky look up at the stammering man in front of her before taking him in her hand and dragging her tongue up the underside of his cock.

“Ah!” He moaned unbidden at the sudden wet warmth when she took him into her mouth, buckling slightly against the counter behind her. “R-Rook!”

Her other hand found the back of his thigh and she locked him in place, filling her mouth with his semi-hard length, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in, her pussy immediately responding to the high pitchy breaths - little half groans and whimpers - that poured from his lips.

He was surprised by this sudden turn of events, yes, but he didn’t pull away; didn’t tell her to stop. Instead, his gasps gave way to deep elated sighs as she worked him with her mouth and her hand, taking her time and worshipping his long, thin cock, tracing every handsome vein; revelling in the salty tang of his skin and the slickness of his precum on her tongue as she knelt in front of him.

“S-so good…” he whispered, carding the fingers of one hand through her hair, his head tipping back, “Oh… that feels so, so good…”

I know it does, handsome…

Rook hummed approvingly around him, feeling him throb against the roof of her mouth. She let go of his cock, wrapping her wet fingers around the back of his other thigh before slackening her jaw, opening her throat, then taking him deep, deep, and deeper still until she felt him butt against the space just beyond her tonsils. He squirmed in her hands, biceps femoris fluttering coyly under her fingertips. His hand tightened in her hair, but not enough to hurt.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, filling her lungs and belly, lost in the cathartic victory of the bliss she was subjecting him to; the smell of him; the dainty sweetness of the viscous, anticipatory fluid that continued to seep from his sensitive slit...

He moaned her name quietly again when she eased him further down her throat, exhaling slowly… so slowly through her nose as she went, bobbing her head slightly and going further with each stroke until he was fully seated and her nose brushed skin beneath the coarse thatch of hair on his lower belly.

He positively vibrated in her hands - ass clenching, thighs spasming, hips jerking, the nails of his free hand scrabbling over the smooth surface of the counter as Rook swallowed around him and fucked him with her throat, each lewd wet thrust punctuated by the unseemly sound her vocal cords made as they were repetitively prodded by his intrusive length.

“Darling…” he whined, a man toeing the chasm of abandon. “D-darling please… I can’t… oh - I’m going to— ohhh!”

His words were cut short and he went rigid as a corpse before uttering a strangled yelp and collapsing against the counter with a thud, propped on an elbow as his hips jerked gracelessly against Rook’s face and she felt his hot, thick cum spill down her throat - one satisfying, relieving pulse after another.

She moaned as she swallowed him, cunt aching as she drank him deep, his warmth spreading through her, her name falling raggedly from his mouth over and over and over, each repetition more reverent than the last.

When he was done, she twitched her jaw, let him slip wetly from her, traced her lips with her tongue, and smiled up at his fucked-out face.

“I was looking forward to an appetizer, and it was delicious…” she rose, tucking his cock back into his pants and doing them up. “So… how about that glass of wine, handsome?”

It was actually pretty funny, the way that Emmrich was gaping at her with his unusually clumsy fingers absently trying to configure his belt buckle, his face flushed and shiny with post-orgasmic bliss.

“Wine,” he swallowed, throat bobbing, hazel eyes blown out behind the lenses of his glasses. “Yes, yes… allow me.”

He seemed to grasp onto some scant flotsam of rational thought amongst the pitching sea of post-nut clarity and finished with his belt, sliding his sleeves up his forearms and clearing his throat before saying (roughly), “If you did happen to have a corkscrew, where might it be?”

#emmrook #emmrich x rook #modern funeral home au #emmrich #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #this is an emmrich thirst post #emmrich romance #emmrich smut #rook is a grimy mall goth #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age fan fiction #dragon age fan fic #this old man needs to have his mind and dick blown frequently okay

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emsdevs · 2 days ago

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birthday celly prompt list - William Nylander

a/n: i promise i'm getting back on my writing grind 🙏 i don't have an ask for this one bc i just wanted to write for willy so i asked kirby to pick a prompt for me 🧍‍♀️ enjoyyyyy!! 🧡

Prompt 3: "I've always wanted this."

masterlist | Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist

You’d known William since you were a teenager. You were neighbors with the Hughes boys, and Quinn had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You were a year older than him, but that didn’t stop the two of you from being inseparable. When you went over to his house one summer day and found a strange boy you didn’t recognize, you didn’t expect it to change your life the way it has. The entire time William stayed with the Hugheses, you admired him from afar, telling yourself that having a harmless little crush on the older boy wouldn’t hurt anything.

At the time, it didn’t, but when you ran into William after moving to Toronto a few months ago and all of those feelings came rushing back, you started to regret it. He’d been quick to ask you to meet up for coffee one day, catch up with one another. You let yourself agree, and ever since then, he’s been your closest friend in Toronto. You’d hang out with him whenever he got a free moment. He’d let you dogsit when he had roadies. You two had gotten so close that you talked on a daily basis, but those feelings were still creeping into the back of your mind.

You felt your heart race any time his hand brushed against yours. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach when he looked into your eyes just a bit longer than what could be considered normal. You found yourself thinking about him more often than you cared to admit. You’d see the most random things, and your mind would find a way to connect them to Willy. Needless to say, you were in deep, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle.

When Willy invited you over for dinner, you couldn’t say no, so you headed straight to his place after work. He didn’t have a game tonight, so you two would have plenty of time to hang out. When you arrive at his place, you’re surprised to see the fancy setup he has for you. Usually, the two of you would just order some takeout and watch a movie while you ate, but this looks like some kind of Valentine’s or anniversary dinner or something. It definitely doesn’t look like a dinner for two friends.

Willy clocks the confused look on your face, and he’s quick to make his way over to you. He grabs your hands, guiding you closer to the dinner table, loaded with food.

“Will- I- What is all this?” you stammer out. You were still shocked, unsure of how to act now.

“Well,” he trails off a bit, “I just- I don’t know. I mean I might’ve read this wrong, so just let me know if this isn’t something you want. But, you know, we’ve been getting a lot closer recently, and I was kinda getting a feeling that this might be something more than friendship. I mean, I know that’s what I want, but I was getting the feeling you want that too.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. Your heart jumps to your throat, and the weight of the feelings you’ve been pushing down for years is lifted off your shoulders. A relieved smile finds its way onto your face, and you let out the breath you’d been holding since you walked into his apartment.

“I’ve always wanted this,” you squeeze his hands, trying to get your point across with something other than words. He smiles, letting out a breath, before removing his hands from yours in favor of placing them on your cheeks. He pulls you in, placing a soft, long-awaited kiss. Teenage you would be freaking out right now, and if you’re completely honest with yourself, adult you is freaking out too. You spent years of your life pining over William, and just like that, he was yours now. Apparently, he had been for a while.

taglist: @dancerbailey3 @nadicakes143 @wollgirlie

join the taglist

#em's birthday 🥳#em's writing #william nylander #william nylander x reader #wn88 #toronto maple leafs #leafs hockey #nhl #nhl x reader

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lakesparkles · 2 days ago

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I finally finished the first chapter - I'm calling it prologue - of my college AU Thanos Team fanfiction.

For now, I'll post it here under the cut:

Prologue

Gyeong-su is sure he can change Nam-gyu's life

—

(NOTE: the first thing I want to do is apologize about Nam-gyu because he’s an asshole in this chapter)

The room was still dark and Nam-gyu wasn't sure why he’d woken up. He mumbled softly, trying to go back to sleep and failing... For some reason. His mind was too groggy to think of anything in that situation.

Only after a few seconds did he realize his cell phone was ringing, the music irritating his hearing and immediately stressing him out.

"What is it!?" He complained in a slurred voice, as if the device could answer him. At the same time, he slammed his hand against the cabinet next to his bed, where he remembered leaving his cell phone charging. He needed to wait for his eyes to get used to the light so he could read the name on the screen:

"Mom," was all it said.

So he ignored it, suddenly more alert. Why would she even...?

No. He wouldn't even think about it. It was way too early for that.

When the phone went silent again, Nam-gyu closed his eyes and rolled over in bed, covering his head so he could fall asleep faster. Fuck it, he still had a few hours of sleep left, he wasn't going to lose them because of something like that.

Or, apparently, he was wrong.

Not even three minutes had passed when his ears picked up another noise. This time, coming from the bedroom door. Three quick knocks and then:

"Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu? Can I come in? I'm going in, okay?"

No sooner said than done, his door was opened completely. Nam-gyu growled, removing the blanket and sitting on the bed:

"What the hell... What time is it?" He asked, still reluctant and barely able to open his eyes due to the sudden light.

"Uh... 5:15 am?" Gyeong-su asked more than answered, walking towards his bed.

Without saying a word, Nam-gyu laid down for the second time. But of course his friend didn't accept that, pulling his arm and continuing:

"No, no way! You agreed to this yesterday!"

"I didn't-"

"Of course you did! It was last night, man! There's no way you don't remember, get up!"

"Today's Sunday!"

"That's exactly why!"

"Fuck you!"

That didn't work and, when he realized, Gyeong-su had already pulled him out of bed and placed him standing next to himself. The little shit was now smiling proudly, his hands resting on his waist:

"I programmed an entire map for our route today. You'll like it, believe me! Did you know there's a forest behind that pharmacy? The one right behind the-"

Nam-gyu got tired of hearing it, going straight out of the room. At least this time, Gyeong-su got the message and shut up, just following him down the narrow hallway. It was the least he could do, considering he was dragging Nam-gyu for a "morning walk" (he had called it that, not Nam-gyu).

He walked straight to the bathroom, pausing at the door for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement in front of him: it was almost imperceptible, but he was sure it was Se-mi entering her own room, slamming the door shut. This irritated him, to say the least. Nam-gyu took a step back, getting closer to his friend:

"Why did this bitch come to live here if she doesn't even have an ounce of manners?"

"Hey, it's not nice to call-"

"Shut up. Have you even talked to her? Does she ever leave her room?"

"I thought you'd think that was a good thing," Gyeong-su shrugged, "so you don't have to look at her face."

"Clever," Nam-gyu gave a rare compliment, closing the door behind him. As he went to the bathroom and returned to his room to change, he kept thinking about Se-mi.

He and Gyeong-su had rented the apartment two months ago, which meant that neither of them really got used to it yet. Nam-gyu had known the other for years, but he wouldn't describe him as a close friend. It just so happened that they both needed to share a rent, and even then, they realized that their money wouldn't be enough anyway.

In order to avoid having to move into a tiny, one-room place, they sacrificed one of the bedrooms in their current apartment and tried their luck. He would never imagine that a woman would offer to split the cost of the bills, but Se-mi was apparently desperate.

Maybe. Nam-gyu knew very little about her.

They went to the same university, were close in age, and that was where his knowledge about the woman ended. Se-mi didn't talk much, staying locked in her room during the rare moments she was home. It didn't take a genius to guess that this would never work out. He was surprised she hadn't given up since the beginning of the two weeks she'd been there.

Yeah.

Nam-gyu shook his head to clear his thoughts. He didn't even care that much about the bitch in the first place. She was a total jerk, that's what.

So he focused on the closet in front of him, choosing a random black T-shirt and pulling it over his head. Once he was dressed, he fixed his hair with his hands and tucked a few strands behind his ears.

Then he crossed the hallway for good, heading for the kitchen. As if on autopilot, he opened the door of the fridge and picked up a bottle of whiskey. His throat was dry, but before he could unscrew the cap, the bottle was taken from his hands.

"Hey!" He exclaimed.

"No, no, no!' Gyeong-su held it up high so he couldn't reach it, even though the other was struggling beside him. He hadn't even noticed him approaching. "You made me promise not to let you drink it for breakfast!"

"I never said that!"

"Yes, you did. Nam-gyu, it was last night!"

"If I don't remember, it's clearly not what I really wanted."

"You were in a really bad state, man. Cold sweat and everything. You looked me in the eyes and said, 'I can't live like this anymore, Gyeong-su, you need to change my life,' and that's what we're going to start doing from today!" He told everything with dramatic gestures, which indicated that that wasn't really what had truly happened.

For some reason unknown even to him, Nam-gyu gave up.

"I promise" Gyeong-su ran after him after putting away the whiskey and grabbing a bottle of water in its place. "I will change your life!"

For both their sakes, Nam-gyu kept his opinion to himself.

---

"Oh wait, man, I forgot my watch!"

"Can't you just go without it?" As soon as Nam-gyu finished his sentence, Gyeong-su had already run into the apartment once again.

They hadn't even been out for 30 seconds.

With a sigh, he leaned against the wall, taking advantage of the free time to light a cigarette and place it between his lips. His vision was a little blurry as he looked through the small window on the other side of the hallway. It was a simple view, just a tree branch moving with the wind. Maybe it was slightly colder outside.

Whatever. His head hurt, it felt like it was about to explode.

Had he really talked about all that with Gyeong-su last night?

He tried his best to clear his memories, but all he remembered was the two of them sitting on the couch. It didn't seem like a serious conversation, his mouth even hurt from laughing so much at that time. Was Se-mi there? Somehow, she was there. Maybe to tell them to shut up. Or... Did she stay longer? Did she talk to both of them? No, it couldn't be. Se-mi had never acted like that before.

He was probably making a funny face as he tried to remember. When he came back to reality, he realized that someone was staring at him.

"What is it?" Nam-gyu asked, raising his chin, trying to look intimidating even though he wasn't very successful.

The boy in front of him straightened his posture as if he’d been startled.

He never saw him there before. He was short and wore a navy blue sweater. If that wasn't enough, he had a kind of pathetic look, as if he was about to faint.

Nam-gyu just took a drag on his cigarette, pretending to ignore him.

"Eh..." The other man spoke in a low voice, however, after a few seconds. "Do you know where apartment 75 is?"

"No," Nam-gyu replied with a small smile.

"Do you live here? In the building, I mean. It's just that I'm new and I forgot..."

"Did you forget where your own apartment is? Seriously?"

"I've never been here in person, this is the first day I've..."

With each passing second, Nam-gyu found it more amusing, without even trying to hide it. As soon as he pushed himself off the wall, he pointed to the number on the door right next to him: 75.

"Have you thought about taking a vision test? " He asked the boy, still in a good mood.

The other didn't share the same feeling, mumbling an apology under his breath and unlocking the apartment to go in. Why had he even apologized to him?

Weird guy.

He'd been distracted by that for so long that only then did he notice how Gyeong-su hadn't come back yet. Nam-gyu peeked inside his own dark apartment, part of him barely able to resist the urge to just run away and come back there only at night, when his friend already forgot all that nonsense.

He regretted not having followed through with the plan as soon as Gyeong-su appeared in his sight, straightening the watch on his wrist and letting out an exclamation:

"Hey, no, no!" He wasted no time in trying to take the cigarette from Nam-gyu's hand. "That counts too, you made me promise not to let you smoke in the morning as well!"

Nam-gyu elbowed him lightly, making it clear how he didn't care. So much so that he soon changed the subject:

"What took you so long? Were you chatting with the bitch?"

Gyeong-su gave him a reprimanding look as soon as the two began walking down the hallway. With that alone, Nam-gyu knew he’d hit the nail on the head.

"She’d just woken up," Gyeong-su admitted. "She wanted to know how the TV remote worked, can you believe it?"

"So she talks to you," Nam-gyu raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised and a little betrayed. Gyeong-su didn't say a word, just sighed. The two reached the top of the stairs at the end of the hallway, Nam-gyu taking the lead to go down two steps at a time. Now that he wasn't facing the other, it was easier to ignore the discomfort and finally ask:

"I talked to her yesterday too, didn't I?"

"You really don't remember anything?" Gyeong-su followed closely behind him, dragging his entire arm along the railing.

"I remember some things," Nam-guy raised his chin, half telling the truth, half lying. "We laughed for a long time."

"Yeah! Because of you, man!"

"Oh yeah..?"

The two finished the two flights of stairs, arriving at the first floor. Gyeong-su was distracted for a few seconds, checking if there was any new mail for their apartment and realizing that the mailbox was empty. Shrugging, he walked back to Nam-gyu's side so they could leave the building. "You told me a lot of things! Like that time a guy at the club almost got you fired because he mistook you for someone else."

"I told Se-mi that!?" This time, he didn't even think to hide his shock. Gyeong-su found it all very funny. He put his hand in front of his mouth to laugh lightly.

Wait.

"You're making it all up! That's it, isn't it?" Nam-gyu started to get suspicious, hating how he felt slightly embarrassed now.

"Of course not! All of this happened for real, you can ask Se-mi."

Then Nam-gyu realized it was better to concentrate on his cigarette, walking quickly and straightening his hair once more. The actual best thing would be to stop thinking about it. Either way, he knew he wouldn't be able to remember everything. So who cared?

He looked around, trying to distract himself. There were only trees, buildings and houses, nothing too impressive. The wind blew hard against the branches. It wasn't necessarily cold, but he was starting to regret not having put on a coat. Maybe he should go back and get one, it wasn't like he was that far from the apartment. And he always felt more comfortable when he wore long coats, in the first place. Not that he has any insecurities about his arms, of course. And he would never feel comfortable having a conversation like that with someone he barely knew, especially with... Her.

God, he was really bad at that.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about that bitch?

He let out a loud groan, making Gyeong-su jump in fright:

"What the fuck are we doing out here!?" He spoke louder than he should've, letting out all the frustrations he was feeling since he woke up.

Gyeong-su stared at him at first, with his eyebrows raised and his eyes slightly wide. He received that same look countless times before, and Nam-gyu didn't appreciate it. He knew it was his friend's silent way of saying he was worried about him. As if Nam-gyu were just a lost puppy.

"I already told you," Gyeong-su began, in that slow and serious tone, speaking as if Nam-gyu was too dumb to understand simple sentences. "You told us some stories and then out of nowhere you complained about how shitty your life is."

"I didn't do that."

"Nam-gyu! Same thing again? You did! You spent like two minutes straight just talking about how the lowest point was having to share an apartment with people like us. We were pissed! You belittled my work-"

"Rightly so. What work?" Nam-gyu rolled his eyes.

"Hey! And Se-mi too, especially her. You said that she only didn't have a decent life because she was a disgusting prostitute who wasn't even good enough to get clients to rent a small studio apartment."

"Okay, I believe that part."

Gyeong-su rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly:

"Why are you like that with her? Only with her? Did she do something to you?"

"Yes," no.

"What?"

Nam-gyu didn't feel like answering, so he didn't.

---

Nam-gyu had no idea what he was expecting. He felt like an idiot once he realized that part of him almost wished Gyeong-su was right. That they would leave the apartment, walk around and something would suddenly change. He woke up with that weird weight on his chest, and that made it hard to concentrate on anything else. His head was also throbbing and he would occasionally sip from the bottle of water that Gyeong-su carried in the side pocket of his backpack. Both of those things, however, could easily be explained by the hangover. He was more used to waking up like that than not, that almost becoming his usual.

But the weird feeling on his chest? That was rarer. Or at least it used to be. Until he moved to this apartment. However, once again, he was starting to get used to it.

Shit. He shook his head and looked up. Then at Gyeong-su.

"Look, look!" His friend skipped ahead of him and pointed down the ravine they were walking on at that moment. "You can see our building from here!'

"Wow." Nam-gyu said sarcastically.

Gyeong-su lowered his head, still smiling a little:

"Can you at least pretend to be having a little fun? I'm feeling a little bad now."

Nam-gyu opened his mouth, ready to give any answer that would make him shut up again. Why he didn't, was a mystery even to him. For a second, he sighed softly. Maybe it was because of the isolated environment, far from anyone else who could hear him. Maybe it was because, besides Gyeong-su, he had no one else to comment on that matter.

All he knew was that the words that came out of his mouth were:

"My mother called me this morning."

Gyeong-su's entire posture changed. He lowered his shoulders, becoming more serious despite grunting an "uhhhh", waving one of his hands in the air.

As Nam-gyu already said, he and Gyeong-su had never been very close. They barely knew about each other's personal tastes or how they lived before that shared house. All Nam-gyu knew about his new friend was about the stupid games he played live for a bunch of idiots who donated money to him. And all Gyeong-su knew about him, apparently, was about his mother.

"What the hell, man," He tried to comfort Nam-gyu, placing his free hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it...?"

"With you? Obviously not!" Then Nam-gyu returned to his normal behavior, rolling his eyes. He was almost offended that the other even considered that possibility.

To keep the uncomfortable conversation from going on, he started walking again. The entire path in front of him consisted of the same thing: trees. He only knew where to go because of the thin, straight path beneath his feet, probably formed by the amount of people who preferred to take shortcuts there rather than walk through the buildings and convenience stores.

The sun escaped through the yellow leaves, and now it was less cold, fortunately. He felt slightly more at ease, until Gyeong-su took the lead with quick steps and went back to narrating everything he saw, pointing out every useless detail like a tour guide.

Nam-gyu raised his eyebrows, pleased that the other ignored the previous subject so easily.

"I'm just waiting for the moment when you 'change my life'" Nam-gyu let himself laugh a little at the situation.

"Calm down," The other said with a confidence disproportionate to reality. "You need to be a little more patient."

(NOTE: This chapter was basically nothing, this is why I'm calling it "prologue". It'll only make more sense once there are more chapters, the sole reason for all these scenes was to introduce Nam-gyu's life. And because I think it's funny to note how grumpy and different he is when he's with anybody else other than Thanos)

#my writing #college au #nam gyu #gyeong su #se mi #min su #squid game #this is a thangyu fanfiction #i swear #i already wrote around 1400 words of the next chapter and thanos appears #btw i would love to know you guys' thoughts about it :>#and i hope it posts right bc i'm on mobile

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julfr · 5 months ago

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Completed DREDGE AU map

#my art #dredge #map #DredgeAU #dredge art #dredge game #completed it a month ago but life got in the way :]

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herenvibing · 2 months ago

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cr3 is gonna end and the pc’s still feel like the same people to me :|

(crcritical content in the tags feel free to skip)

#cr spoilers #cr critical #the pacing of this campaign was shot to shit from the start and i really hope mercer learns from this and takes it into account for cr4 #i actually think they need to do mini seasons like d20 does. not in the way that they’re all completely separate from one another but #the way the unsleeping city had multiple seasons or a crown of candy or fantasy high. connected arcs in a bigger story #it would give mercer more time to plan and pace things and would give both cast and crew more time to prepare things #bc this campaign was. frantic. just full speed ahead with no breathing room. it’s a marathon sprint #i still feel like the initial assault on the key was like. maybe a few months ago #IT WAS A YEAR!!!!#what do you MEAN this campaign took place over five months!!! these people don’t know each other!!!! I don’t know them!!!!!!#VM knew each other for YEARS TM9 traveled for a YEAR together #CR3 viewers have been talking about a time skip happening as though it’s a guarantee!!! TM9 didn’t end with a time skip and guess what!!#It was a good ending!!! Maybe a few loose threads but they were easily touched upon later with no issues #like idk ppl are allowed to like or even love cr3 i have no issue with that. i just think that from a storytelling perspective it’s just #so poorly paced and i think both fans and players deserve better than to be thrown into world ending stakes immediately #the initial assault on the malleus key felt like an endgame event and it was like fifty episodes in. Tm9 got to xhorhas around episode 50 #characters deserve time to marinate. cr3 is a pressure cooker #don’t even get me started on braius’ inclusion. sam i’m sure your character is cool and complicated but he’s been here for like 20 eps #i dont know this man #also i feel like shorter seasons/separate arcs woven together would account more for people’s personal lives and any medical issues #like what happened with sam. ppl were hounding him asking for his return meanwhile he was being treated for CANCER like I can’t imagine #dealing with that kind of pressure. players deserve privacy however they can get it.#(also fgc’s death is to me the only narratively satisfying thing to happen in cr3 i’m not kidding #fucking perfect setup and execution. exquisitely done on mr riegel’s part #laudna has also had some great story beats along with imogen but i think matt fucked up making delilah come back i really do)#anyway all the love to the cr crew and cast if you see this ily and your stories i just think pacing needs to be taken into account #“they’re just friends sitting at a table playing dnd” i don’t think they are anymore actually #obviously they’re still friends playing dnd but like. cr3 feels so produced and i dont mean that in a good way :[ it feels so corporate #off topic i am SO FUCKING EXCITED for the switch to daggerheart! I think it’ll really breathe some new light and life into exandria!!!

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zymstarz · 9 months ago

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yeah sure that's how i'll [re]come out

#zymart #zymtalk #rant in the tags ->#okay listen to me this is really important and also i have a witness. this was not intentionally supposed to be posted on june 1st #the stars just aligned for this to be at its funniest. which means its also easier for me to dismiss LOL #i drew this like a week ago after trying to draw a whole like. 5 page comic about it and then stopping it mid-board #bc it was horrifying imagining being perceived that much. so i needed to make it into a joke instead and this was the funniest route #and then i was like 'UGH. UGH!!!! i can not be 20 and deal with this like im 13. if i dont post it by the end of the week #then [the witness to all my rants on this topic. shoutout to twig bc they got the most of it] can joke abt it as if i did anyway'#and now its the end of the week and i looked at the date and went 'oh my god didnt may just start what happened'#'WAIT ITS JUNE FIRST. GOD. THATS TOO FUNNY TO NOT SAY SOMETHING' and who am i if i dont prioritize the bit honestly #in all honesty. kinda hate it! not bc of internalized homophobia but actually bc of internalized arophobia that has somehow been emphasized #after having my brain shift from '1000% aromantic without a doubt no exceptions' to 'just arospec ig lol??'#but tragically as it turns out. you can not just try and self analyze yourself into speedrunning closure.#horrible news for the oscar zymstarz community frankly #SO i needed a way 2 justify shoving this off my plate and into the trash as fast as possible.#im impatient and cant acknowledge my own emotions. its a flaw im working on it #oh and for all the ppl who know the running gag abt 'my allegations' [i do not have any real allegations for anyone not in jems server]:#that was in fact just a running gag for like well over a year and a half. like that was just a long running bit COMPLETELY unrelated to thi #i only started having this weird sexuality shift or whatever not too long ago lol. like long enough to go through 4 of the 5 stages of grie #[evidently bc like. im posting this. i got close enough to 5 to throw in the towel ykwim]#but on 'oscar zymstarz emotional acknowledgement' time that is....... not long.#but yeah ig tldr like. still ace [thank god] just arospec [probably demiro? i hate trying to figure out my own labels] instead of Aro now #idk none of this is that deep but also like it kinda is unfortunately bc i have to actually talk abt it to be able to ignore it ykwim #but i did! we're done talking abt it now! and now i can act like i dont care and try to make jokes about it to speedrun the rest of it #anyway. Happy Pride everyone. Fukign kitty.#side message to jem. by no means does this mean im not still gonna bully you. its a sign of love but also it is you specific bullying 🫶#you are not safe #edit: this is karma for saying 'thank god'. might be demiace too. this is the worst month of my life /j

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thedreamerstoryteller · 9 months ago

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YOU SHOULD TASTE IT BEFORE SAYING YOU DON'T LIKE IT

FROM THE STORY:

<<Have you ever tried it?>> Li Xiangyi asked.

<<No>> he answered without hesitation.

<<Then how can you say that, you should taste it before saying you don't like it>> the former physician replied turning more toward his rival, a light smile on his face. He had used the same tone he usually used with Fang Xiaobao to convince him to do something or not to do something, based on the circumstances. The two were similar even for what concerned his habits of eating candy. However Fang Xiaobao, so naive and young, was easier to deceive and to convince.

A-Fei looked at him for a while before answering.

<<You're right>> he agreed <<Let me taste it>> he said before bringing a hand under his chin and guiding his mouth on his own.

Li Xiangyi was firstly taken aback and stiffened. A-Fei kissed him delicately, he felt his tongue brushing his lips and he parted them relaxing.

A-Fei deepened the kiss exploring his mouth. He kept a hand under his chin and held him against himself with the other one. He was warm and Li Xiangyi melted under his touch and kiss. A-Fei stopped kissing him just before he could lose his grip on the book that was about to slip from his hand.

IN OTHER WORDS:

Li Xiangyi likes eating candies and Di Feisheng who has never eaten a candy in his life finds an alternative way to taste it thank to him. 🍬

LINK:

#This story has been parked in my phone for weeks #I was supposed to post it weeks ago respecting my goal to post a fic once a month #But life got in the way #Anyway there it is finally #I got the inspiration to write it from some illustrations I saw on X #They were illustrations about Yan Wushi and Shen Qiao from Thousand Autumns sharing some chocolate sticks #They end up kissing and I thought to write something similar with feihua #I wrote it completely with my phone #I have never written anything with my phone #This is the second time and it is surprising #The first time I wrote a ff about White Cat Legend that it is also on AO3 #I will post it even here #I will share them both here and I hope they will be appreciated #enjoy #mysterious lotus casebook #li xiangyi #di feisheng #feihua #li lianhua #white cat legend #chinese drama #cdrama #i love them #lian hua lou

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likedbyuarmyhope · 2 years ago

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i love festa i’ve been waiting all year its my favorite thing ever and im so excited to see what they’ve been preparing for us... im in this bangtan sonyeondan shit for life

#my 6 years with bts passed exactly a month ago and i hope i'll have so many more years with them #as soon as like 2 years passed and i was still loving them more every day i realized this was something special #all of my previous fandoms had lasted for maybe a few months #to this day i havent been continuously active in any other fandom for more than like a year or so #there might be things i still like yknow like for example i got into my sports animes a little before bts and i still love them #but ive moved on from the fandoms and i dont rly keep up with news very actively or anything and i dont think about them all the time #but with bts its like every day i find new things to love about them and new ways to interpret their music #new details in their songs i'd never caught before new tidbits from old interviews i'd never seen before #every day i love them more and more and more until i think there cant possibly be any more love left in me #and then tomorrow comes and i love them even MORE!!!!#i will never act embarrassed or joke about being cringe bc i like bts i just will never do that. they have saved my life #and not only have they saved it they've directly improved it. they've made me the person i am #without them i might be in a completely different place or even a similar place but feeling so much more miserable and worried about things #i know that i am content with where i am solely because of bts' impact on my mindset and my perspective on life and living and growing up #this has turned into a love letter but yknow what its good practice for the letter im gonna write them in my journal on 6.13 <3 #aeron.txt

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wandersee · 16 days ago

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it's so absolutely torturous only having $650 left on my car loan but being entirely unable to pay ANYTHING towards it due to lack of day job like. me outright owning my little disaster of a car is RIGHT THERE ;0; not to mention not having to worry about the $300 monthly payments, so it'd free that non-existent money up, which would be sooooooo life changing :")

#i was way better off financially when i got the car years ago #so this being an issue was never supposed to happen #and for it to happen when the finish line is literally RIGHT THERE #yet it's halfways they the month now and i only have $16 in my bank so i have literally no money towards right $900 in rent #not to mention the car payment i still haven't been able to make from last month #and the car insurance as well #and the credit card thru the same place as car loan 🤣#why does life hate me so fucking MUCH #2024 the worst year of my entire life continuing just the same in 2025 LMAO #GOD please let me get the fucking new position at night job #the bid ends on the 17th and as of now i'm still in the running for it #sending out immeasurable mental waves for nobody else to sign up #or if anyone else does let them be lower seniority than me #bc one more higher seniority person and i'm bumped off ;0;#still no idea what I'm gonna do about housing come the end of April LMAO #fully prepared to have to love in my fucking car SIGH #which i'd truly just be like whatever about bc it'd save sooooo much money lmao #BUT i don't wanna put my cats thru that man...#especially Kitten my little senior citizen baby who will be 17 at that point :(#i can't do that to her man... I'm already so fucking pissed she'll have to lose the high up window access she loves so much #like literally my only potential option for housing i can think of is living in somebody's basement again #wish i could just at least temp go back to old housemate's place #it's equal time to night job as current place which i need bc i suck at time #but my cats would be fully restricted to the room since now there's no basement stairs only open stairway #which would not work since they have 4 cats and 2 dogs #my cats are terrified of big dogs (the sweet great dane passed away so now it's 2 completely neurotic standard poodles 🤣)#and the cats getting along is... not too hopeful at least while a specific one of her cats is still around lol #plus i know they'd bully Kitten bc of her age like they did the sweet darling old kitty they had 🥺#plus they tore the carpet out of the room and now it's just kid toy hell in there lol #chatterbox

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lokissweater · 6 months ago

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hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.

sending love! - anon

OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333

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oh my god, pretty!

{yuji itadori x f!reader}

summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.

warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.

word count: 3.9k

authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333

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“are you okay baby?”

no you were not.

because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.

yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.

and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.

there was a problem though.

neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.

it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.

but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.

but then there was another problem.

neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.

“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.

you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.

except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.

and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.

“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”

he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”

you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.

in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.

“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”

your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.

since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.

“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”

he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.

“okay!”

he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.

“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”

you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”

“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.

he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—

your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.

your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.

“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”

he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.

“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”

but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.

“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.

“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”

yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.

and your thoughts were identical to his.

timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.

“o—okay…”

his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.

“can i… can i do it again?”

you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.

but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.

“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.

“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.

but he knew.

he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.

yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.

your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.

“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”

“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.

and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.

yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

you were fucking killing him.

he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.

“m—maybe—”

he pulled back fast.

“yeah?”

“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”

“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”

you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.

you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.

you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.

“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.

“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”

“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”

his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.

yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.

but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.

and then he got an idea.

as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.

yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.

“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.

“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”

your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.

“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.

“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.

yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.

“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”

you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”

he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.

“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”

yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.

“i want to but— hic!”

he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.

“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”

he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”

you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.

you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.

“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“shhh honey shhh—”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”

his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.

“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.

“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.

“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.

“like— like this?”

you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.

“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.

your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.

“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”

smack smack smack—

“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”

his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.

yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.

“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”

“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.

“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”

you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.

but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.

“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”

yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.

“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”

“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”

you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.

“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”

he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.

“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.

“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”

you giggled. “s’okay honey.”

he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.

“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.

“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”

you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.

you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.

he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.

you quirked a brow. “what?”

“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”

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taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree

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gothgoblinbabe · 6 months ago

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She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

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aurorawhisperz · 3 months ago

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You’re All I Need (r.c.)

contains: swearing, angst, mentions of pregnancy, family drama.

father!rafe x mother!reader

a/n: if this goes well and finds its way into my busy schedule, i’ll turn this into a series! and guess who just hit the two-decade mark.. 🎉🎂

summary: you’re sick, exhausted, and barely holding it together while caring for your daughter, juno, alone. desperate, you call rafe, your ex and her father, for help.

who am i to want you now that you’re leaving?

•

almost a year ago, you and rafe had gotten into a big fight over the summer that left both of you saying things that couldn’t be taken back. by the time he was gone, you thought it was over for good. he stormed off and it felt like the end.

that was the same summer you found out you got knocked up.

when you finally told him about the baby, he swore he wanted to be there, for both of you. but you couldn’t do it. you didn’t his half-assed attempts at playing family. so you told him he could be in the baby’s life, but not yours.

the day your daughter was born, nothing felt real. you named her juno, inspired by a movie you’d watched a hundred times during your pregnancy. you didn’t need rafe there that day. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

and for a while, that worked. until tonight.

the fever is unbearable, heat radiating from your body as you lean against the wall to steady yourself, your legs trembling beneath you.

juno cries loudly, sharp and continuous, her small fists waving in anger from her playpen. juno was only a few months old, but the sounds she made tonight seem louder than anything, or maybe it is the throbbing in your head that is making everything clearer.

you tried to calm her down—rocking her, even her close until your arms felt like they might give out but your fever had drained every ounce of strength out of you.

rafe was in the middle of a business call when his phone rang. he saw your name on the caller ID and immediately sensed that something was off. he excuses himself from the meeting and quickly picks up.

“what’s up?" he asks, his voice filled with concern and curiosity. “do you wanna have juno tonight?”you ask, not entirely aware of what you’re doing. “i don’t don’t know..I’m just..” then you sigh. “she’s been saying ‘dada’ all day and she refuses to eat.”

rafe winced at the loud noise. juno’s cries are clearly heard from the other end. it was clear that you were having a hard time, and he felt concerned for both you and juno.

“yeah, ‘course, i’ll take her.” he replies quickly, then rafe doesn’t waste any time. telling some lame excuse to his clients, gathering his things and completely bailing on the group of people in the meeting room.

the drive to your place felt excruciatingly long, but he kept his foot on the gas, determined to get there as fast as possible. rafe offered you and juno a spot at tanneyhill but since you were too petty towards him at that time, you declined.

He rushes to his car, his mind racing with thoughts about you and Juno. The drive to your place feels excruciatingly long, but he keeps his foot on the gas, determined to get there as fast as possible.

finally, he reaches your home and practically jumps out of the car, making his way to the door and banging on it urgently.

"(name)? it’s me! open up!" he calls out, the sound of juno’s cries echoing in his ears.

when you open the door, rafe’s eyes slightly widen in worry at your appearance. he could see the paleness in your face and the exhaustion in your eyes. he quickly steps inside, his eyes scanning the room for juno.

"are you alright?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "you look absolutely exhausted. what’s going on with you?”

“i’m fine, she’s in my room..” and rafe saw all the tell-tale signs of a fever as he watched you lay down on the couch. he knows you’re not as ‘fine’ as you claim but doesn’t push the issue for now.

a year ago, rafe cameron was chaos incarnate. consumed by his demons, or maybe he was the demon. the outer banks was his kingdom, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, the rafe walking up the stairs to go see your daughter isn’t the same man you walked away from last summer.

decades of being ward cameron’s son don’t just vanish but having a daughter changed rafe in many ways no one thought was possible. he’s more conscious, more quiet, like he’s constantly trying to prove more to himself than to everyone that he was better than the man who raised him.

you’ve seen him with juno, the way he holds her like she’s the only thing that matters in the world.

rafe watches you as you lie down on the couch, he frowns when he sees how weak you look.

he turns and heads straight to the room where juno is crying. he walks over to the crib and leans over, gently scooping up the little girl, holding her close to his chest.

"hey, little one," he coos, his voice soft and soothing. "your dad’s here." juno immediately stops crying as rafe picks her up, her small body calming at the familiarity of his touch and voice. rafe rocks her in his arms, gently shushing her and whispering words of comfort.

"there you go," he murmurs, his fingers gently stroking her soft hair. "no more cries now, i’ve got you."

he walks back to the living room, holding juno close to his chest as he approaches you on the couch.

"hey," rafe says softly, his tone showing concern. "you really don't look well." he moves closer, gently resting a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. as he suspected, your skin was hot to the touch.

you look up to see him with juno on his hip. “just take care of her for the night.” and your eyes nearly flutter shut.

rafe saw through the way your eyes struggled to stay open. he saw how sick you truly were, but you're trying so hard to hide it.

"damn it," he mutters, his voice tight with worry and frustration. "baby, you’re in no condition to take care of juno on your own right now. you need to rest, and i can't just leave knowing you're not okay."

rafe reluctantly looks down at juno in his arms, her tiny face looking up at him with wide trusting eyes. he then glances back at you, still lying on the couch, weakness written all over your face.

"i will," he replies firmly. "but first, I'm putting you to bed. you need to rest and get better. then I'll take care of the baby."

he heads up and carefully sets juno on the crib for a moment and then walks downstairs, over to the couch, gently scooping you up in his arms.

“put me down..” you whine. "no" rafe replies firmly, his grip on you tightening slightly. "you’re burning up with a damn fever. no condition to be worrying about juno right now." he carries you towards your bedroom, his arms holding you securely against his chest. though you protest, he ignores your weak struggles.

once he reaches your bedroom, he gently lays you down on the bed, making sure you're comfortable and settled. he pulls the covers up over you, tucking you in and smoothing back your hair from your forehead.

looking down at you, he can see how exhausted you really are, the fever taking a toll on your body. but his focus quickly shifts to the crib where juno is starting to cry again, her hunger growing stronger.

rafe watches you for a moment, concerned. the feeling of your skin under his touch tells him how high your fever really is. he glances over at the crib, juno’s cries growing louder.

"stay right here," he instructs you firmly. "i’ll feed our baby, then i’m coming back to check on you."

with a sigh, rafe picks juno up from the crib and brings her to the kitchen. he goes through the motions of preparing a bottle for juno, mixing the formula with warm water and shaking it gently until it's ready. he then sits down next to your bed, leaning back against the headboard while he carefully feeds juno the bottle.

his eyes occasionally flick to you, checking on your condition. even though he's busy feeding the baby, he keeps a watchful eye on you, noticing every shiver and every sign of discomfort in your sick state.

after a few minutes, juno is satisfied, her tiny belly full and content. she starts to drift off in rafe’s arms, her small eyes growing heavy.

he carefully passes the baby back to the crib and turns his attention back to you. he returns to your bedside and sits down, his eyes studying your pale and weary face. the sight of you in this state was devouring him from the inside.

your eyes flutter open. “rafe, take her to your house..” then you turn to the side, your back facing him.

rafe looks down at you, gently taking your hand in his own, it broke his heart a little. the fact that you're asking him to take juno now.

"baby," he murmurs, his voice gentle. "you’re still burning up. i can't just leave with juno while you're like this."

it was always like this with rafe. back then, whenever you didn’t want him to care for you, when you pushed him away, built your walls high, and told him you didn’t need him, he’d force it anyway. he had this annoying way of ignoring your protests, showing up when you least expected it with that hot stubborn determination in his eyes.

if you were sick, he’d be at your door with soup, even if he didn’t know how to make it. if you were upset, he’d sit next to you in silence, waiting until you caved. it didn’t matter how hard you tried to convince him you were fine; rafe never listened. he cared in the only way he knew how to care; recklessly, even when you swore you didn’t want him to. that part of him hasn’t changed at all.

“come on, she’s your only priority at the moment.” you try sending him away. his grip on your hand tightened a little at your words. “don't be fucking ridiculous," he retorts, his voice stern. "juno will be fine with me at my house. but you're not. you’re sick and need rest and care. i’m not just gonna abandon you like this. not happening."

“you don’t have to stay anyway… you’re not my husband or boyfriend or anything. you’re just her dad.”

rafe bites down at your words. he knows he’s nothing more to you than juno’s dad, but hearing you say it so bluntly still stings.

“no, i’m not your husband or boyfriend,” he replies, his tone sharper than intended. “but damn it, i still care about you, even if you don’t want me to.”

before you can respond, a shiver racks your body, your fever making you tremble. rafe notices immediately, his frustration giving way to concern.

“jesus, you’re burning up,” he mutters, leaning closer to place the back of his hand on your forehead. “why didn’t you tell me you were this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer. standing up, he moves to the kitchen, returning with a cool cloth. he gently presses it against your forehead, his jaw tight with worry.

“you’re in no condition to be alone right now,” he says firmly. “especially not with a fever this high. you need someone to take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

“take her,” you whisper, your voice weak. “i can take care of myself. you don’t have to do both.”

“damn it, will you just listen to me for once?” rafe snaps, his voice low but laced with irritation. “you’re not fine. you’re barely holding it together, and you want me to just walk away? why are you so goddamn stubborn?”

“i don’t need your help,” you insist, glaring at him weakly. “just watch juno. that’s all.”

rafe exhales sharply, trying to keep his temper in check.

“what’s it gonna take for you to get it through your head that you need support too?” he demands. “i care about both you and juno, you idiot. why can’t you just let me help you when you clearly need it?”

“and why does this concern you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. his eyes narrow at your question, frustration bubbling over again.

“why do you think it concerns me?” he bites out, his voice rough. “you really have to ask that? you think i don’t care about you? you think i only see you as juno’s mom?”

you manage a breathy smirk, too weak to move but pleased nonetheless. “i knew it… son of a bitch.”

“knew what?” he challenges, his tone sharp. “that i actually give a damn about you more than you think? if you know, then why are you still fighting me on this? why are you so damn stubborn about letting me help?”

your smirk stays on your face, though your eyelids are already drooping from exhaustion.

“yeah, i care about you,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “you drive me absolutely fucking insane with how stubborn you are, but i still care. happy now?”

when you don’t respond, too tired to argue anymore, he shakes his head and adjusts the cool cloth on your forehead.

“i’m not leaving,” he says, and there’s no point in arguing. “someone has to take care of you since you clearly can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

the room feels smaller with him in it, like his presence is closing in on you from all sides. he settles next to you, the mattress dipping slightly, and it’s awkward, too close for comfort, too familiar for what you are now. exes. nothing more.

“you’re gonna get sick,” you mumble, your voice scratchy and weak. “you don’t have to do this.”

“don’t care,” he says, not even looking at you. his voice is calm, steady. “you’re burning up. if i get sick, so what?”

you try to sit up, even though your body feels like it’s made of lead and your head pounds with every slight movement. the fever’s still got you in its grip, but lying there next to rafe feels like too much. too intimate. too close.

but the second you push yourself up, the world tilts. your balance wavers, and before you can steady yourself, your head drops against something solid.

his shoulder.

rafe lets out an annoyed sigh as he watches you struggle to get up, knowing full well that you're too weak to stand on your own.

"damn it, woman," he mutters as you collapse back onto him. "what did I tell you? you’re supposed to be resting, not trying to get up and walk around like a lunatic."

he gently wraps his arm around you, supporting your weakened body against him.

"just stay still and don't move," he whispers. "you’re in no condition to be up and about. you need to rest and recover. you know i’ll take care of you, right? stop trying to do everything on your own."

rafe gently runs his fingers through your hair, his touch light and soothing.

your hand finds its way to rafe’s arm, fingers gripping him weakly, as if holding on to him will keep you steady. rafe freezes at the touch, his gaze dropping to where your hand rests against his skin. it’s a simple gesture, but it feels like everything all at once.

he doesn’t pull away. instead, he shifts slightly, his own hand coming up to gently squeeze yours, his grip warm and steady, like he’s anchoring you.

“you’ll get better,” he murmurs. “just give it time and let yourself rest. let me look after you for once, okay?”

you think about the way things used to be. sneaking off when you had the chance, meeting him at the beach under the cover of darkness. stolen kisses, the kind that made your heart race. rafe was always the one who pushed boundaries, the one who made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

“are you sleeping over?” you ask weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

rafe looks down at you, the question pulling him out of his thoughts. he takes in your pale face, the tired lines around your eyes, and sighs. part of him wants to say no, to avoid whatever this is turning into, but he knows he can’t leave you like this.

“yeah,” he says finally, his tone gentle but firm. “yeah, i’m sleeping here. someone needs to keep an eye on your stubborn ass so you don’t try to do chores at three in the morning.”

you let out a weak laugh, but it fades quickly. “you shouldn’t be here,” you mutter, shaking your head slightly. “it’s—it’s awkward. it’ll just make things weird.”

rafe arches a brow, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a frown. “why are you acting like something’s gonna happen between us?” he counters, his tone light but laced with something deeper. “it’s fine. stop overthinking it and just… lay down. you’re not gonna win this argument.”

before you can protest, he gently guides you back down, his hand steady at your back. the warmth of his body against yours is impossible to ignore, but you’re too drained to fight it.

then, out of nowhere, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. the gesture is so tender it takes your breath away, but you’re too tired to react.

as your eyelids grow heavier, your mind drifts back to the first time rafe said he loved you. it wasn’t in a quiet, romantic moment, it was in the middle of an argument. his voice had been loud, angry and raw, but it was real. rafe always let things spill out when he couldn’t hold them back anymore.

now, as sleep pulls you under, you hear his voice again, quieter this time.

“i miss you,” he whispers.

you don’t respond. maybe you’re too far gone, maybe you don’t want to. but maybe you miss him too.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe #rafe fluff #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst #obx #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #babydaddy!rafe #babydaddy!rafe cameron #angst #fluff #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx x reader #outerbanks x reader

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 month ago

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Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him.

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face.

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room.

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you.

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.”

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable” and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you.

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments.

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around.

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge?

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies.

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in.

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound.

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening.

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out.

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies.

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again.

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #angst #no beta we die like men #Behind enemy lines

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