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atomicbland · 7 months ago

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Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way.

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach.

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you.

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil.

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely.

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?”

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?”

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster.

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light.

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.”

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog.

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs.

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him.

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation.

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you.

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside.

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you; large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped.

BANG!

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul.

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit.

BANG!

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch.

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.”

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs.

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey.

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on.

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

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waynes-multiverse · 8 months ago

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Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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marsbar17 · 10 months ago

Note

im like a woman in a desert dying we are so depraved of bloodhound x reader stuff pls just give anything at this point 😭😭😭🤲🤲🤲🤲🤲

Don't worry pookie I am here to quench your thirst <3

Bloodhound is honestly my favorite character to write about and this one flustered me a bit dbsbbsjska

CONTAINS: established relationship, alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness but in a non-toxic way, a little bit of spice, not full on smut but it gets pretty spicy >:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celebrating a win was very popular amongst the legends. Mirage often invited everyone to the Paradise Lounge for some drinks and good laughter, even the less cheerful legends attended most of the time. Caustic could be found sipping beers and glaring at people, while Ballistic complained on and on about how they didn't even serve good tea.

Today, you sat at the bar between a very tipsy Fuse and an arguably even tipsier Valkyrie. Mirage popped in and out of the celebration as he served customers, but he always made sure your glass was full with whatever drink you desired.

"Mate! That wingman shot was bloody beautiful!" Fuse practically yelled into your ear as his metal hand clapped you on the back, making you wince slightly. Somehow, you had managed to pull off a win after responding in the last ring with only a wingman and one other teammate at half health. I guess whatever god is out there took the wheel because suddenly your aim was the best it's ever been and you downed the last two enemies with two headshots.

"I know, Walter. You've told me about fifteen times since we sat down." Rolling your eyes, you down the rest of your drink before scouring the crowd of legends to try and find Bloodhound. They said they'd be there, but you hadn't seen them yet. Although, it's hard to find anyone with the flashing lights and the alcohol starting to take effect.

Giving up, you turned back to your empty glass and smiling friends. If they didn't come, that was fine. They usually didn't enjoy settings like this anyway, they only only came to guide you back to room after you got wasted.

"The old man's right, though." Valkyrie added in, dragging your attention away from Bloodhound and back into the party. "Seeing you hone into the fight always surprises me, I swear your whole energy changes. It's fucking hot."

The pilot said it so nonchalant, taking a swig of her drink and signaling to Mirage for another like she didn't just call you hot. You couldn't tell if the heat on your face was from the alcohol or how flustered you felt. Probably just the alcohol.

"I'm gonna hafta agree with Valk on this one." Fuse said, still quite loud. He put his arm around your shoulders. "You make bloodlust look bloody sexy. No pun intended." His laugh is deep and booming, shaking your body as he leans on you. What the fuck is happening? You knew the two of them were flirty drunks, but you'd never had their affections directed at you before.

Again, you found yourself looking around the room, and this time you spotted Bloodhound leaning against a wall, watching you. Fuck. They were mad, you could tell. Even without seeing their expression you could practically feel the anger rolling off of them. The fact that Fuse was now playing with strands of your hair and Valkyrie had her hand on your upper arm didn't help your case at all.

You quickly got up, saying a small goodbye to your companions before making your way to a pissed off Bloodhound. They didn't even wait for you to get to them before they walked out the door, leaving you to hurry after them.

"What was that, elskan?" Their voice surprised you as you left the building, and you whipped your head around to see them beside the doorway. They leaned again the wall once again, arms crossed over their chest.

"I'm sorry, Hound. They were drunk and they surprised me and I didn't know what to do and I didn't mean to let them keep going and I-"

"Hush." Bloodhound interrupted your nervous rambling, holding a hand out in a 'halt' gesture. You shut your mouth as quickly as you possibly could, not wanting to anger them any more than you thought you already had. Before they continued speaking, they led you around the side of the building into a less visible alleyway. "I am not blaming you, I simply wanted to know what happened."

They weren't mad at you? Thank the Allfather. Having Bloodhound mad at you was something straight out of a horror film. Your body relaxed, but you still kept your head down instead of looking into their face.

"They got drunk... and we were talking about my win." You started your explanation again, slowly this time to avoid rambling. "Their compliments started getting flirty, and then they started getting touchy. I should've pushed them off, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You are not responsible for the actions of drunken fools." Bloodhound grabbed your chin with a gloved hand, lifting your face to look them in the eyes. Well, where their eyes would be behind the goggles of their mask. "I trust you, elskan. I know that you are mine, and you would not betray me. Especially for someone like Walter Fitzroy."

You laughed, the tension leaving you as you slowly let yourself process the fact that they weren't mad at you. From the way their shoulders jumped slightly, you could tell they were laughing too.

"However," Bloodhound continued, letting go of you and reaching behind their head. "It seems like our other other companions need a reminder of who you belong to." You heard the familiar sound of their mask being unclasped, and soon enough you were really looking into their eyes as they set their mask along with their respirator onto an old wooden box beside the two of you.

You couldn't even speak before they grabbed your waist, spinning you around so your back was pressed up against the rough brick wall. You could only gasp as their hands gripped at your skin and their face nuzzled into your neck, leaving small kisses along your jawline.

"You are so beautiful. So perfect, ástin mín." Bloodhound muttered praise as the kisses slowly became more desperate. They nibbled at your skin lightly, not enough to hurt just yet. You looked towards the alley opening and whined slightly.

"Hound, someone could see us..." You grabbed at their shoulders, trying to push them back away from your neck. They pulled back, not even looking at the alley, only into your eyes.

"Would you like me to stop?" Bloodhound rubbed soothing circles into your hips, keeping your attention on them and not the possibility of someone seeing the two of you.

"No... but what if they see your face?"

"They will not. I will be too busy giving you tons of pretty marks."

Bloodhound didn't let you speak again as they dived back into the crook between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin harshly. You couldn't suppress the moan that left your lips no matter how hard you tried, and you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle any further noise. They just continued to mutter praise into your skin while they savored every reaction you gave them.

It hurt, and you squirmed in their bruising grip. They were determined to mark you up until they were satisfied and wouldn't settle for any less. It was a miracle no one managed to walk past the alleyway while Bloodhound ravaged your neck and collarbones. It wasn't like you were being quiet either, the intensity at which they sucked and bit at your skin was enough to make tears well up in your eyes and to bring so many sinful noises from your mouth.

"I should just take you right here, where anyone could see how good I make you feel, elskan." They whispered in your ear, making your knees buckle and your eyes roll back. Good thing they were holding you against the wall, or you might've just fallen to your knees right then and there.

After what felt like forever, their teeth stopped grazing your skin and their grip on your waist loosened. You could feel their tongue darting out of their mouth to lick at and soothe the dark bruises they left on your skin. Your moans and whimpers turned to soft whined and sighs as the pain slowly faded into dull numbness. Bloodhound took a couple of steps backwards, looking at their work with a smirk.

"Absolutely gorgeous, kæri. Now, everyone will be able to see your devotion to me." They gave you one last look before grabbing their gear and putting it back on.

You just finished wiping any stray tears from your face before Bloodhound grabbed your hand and led you back into the Paradise Lounge. They escorted you back to your seat at the bar, giving you a pat on the head before walking back to the wall you saw them at before everything happened.

"....Bloody hell." Fuse's mouth was practically hanging open as he stared at the dark purple and red marks that littered your skin. "Didn't take Houndy to be the possessive type." He just laughed and shrugged before going back to his drink. Valkyrie had disappeared sometime during your absence, and all that was left was two empty soju bottles and a $20 bill on the bar.

"Yeah... So where did Valk go?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!

Reminder that liking and reblogging my work really helps me as a creator, and it takes like 10 seconds so why not support a little gay gremlin author

Requests are always welcome! They help me get the inspiration to write and produce more content for you! Request anything that's on your mind :)

#apex legends #apex fanfic #apex x reader #apex bloodhound #bloodhound x reader #bloodhound #apex legends bloodhound #apex legends x reader #nonbinary #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #apex nsft #established relationship #jealousy #alcohol #possessive #gay

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inkykeiji · 1 year ago

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Possessive yandere koko would fuck you SO GOOD sgoooooood ahhhh i cannot

HE SOOOOOOO WOULD ANON, HE SO WOULD!!!

character: kokonoi hajime x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, yandere behaviour + toxic relationship, daddy kink, rough sex, markings, implied overstimulation + multiple orgasms words: 743

possessive yandere koko is sweeter than sugar, so sweet he rots your teeth from your skull, so sweet he spoils you rotten, straight to the fucking core. possessive yandere koko is soft, gets all melty in your presence as he tends to your every wish and whim and will—he just wants you to have the very best, always, no matter the circumstances, he promises. possessive yandere koko is strict and stern when you don’t fucking listen, when you fail to comply with all of the ‘suggestions’ and ‘propositions’ and ‘advice’ he so graciously bestows upon you—because they aren’t really optional at all, the impression of free choice merely an illusion, a mirage in the distance, just for show; because Daddy knows best, you silly, stupid little thing. Daddy knows better than you (or anyone else) ever could, and Daddy only does what he does to protect you, he swears it. he only wants the best for you, he assures you.

possessive yandere koko takes his precious time staining his essence into your body using his tongue and his touch and his teeth, bursting blood vessels beneath his grip and carving his name into your inner thighs in a full set of thirty-two little indents. possessive yandere koko wants to twine your ribcage with his, knit it together in a plait and fuse it into one so you’re always with him, so you can never leave him, so you won’t ever get hurt, won’t ever be in danger, won’t ever escape his protective sight ever again.

possessive yandere koko has to fuck you every single goddamn day, just to remind you who you belong to, just to remind himself that you’re his. possessive yandere koko needs to paint your womb in his seed every single fucking night, needs to fuck you until he’s pumped every last drop of cum he has into you, until he’s bruised your cervix swollen and raw and bloody, until he has instilled an ache within you so deeply it roots itself at the very core of your body, of your soul; something that is irremovable, something that is irrevocable, something that, no matter which way you move or how slightly you shift, pulses and stings, thrashes and gnaws, reminds you of him.

it’s the best way to bury himself within you, to implant himself within your very quintessence, to make sure you never forget who you belong to, who owns and takes care of you, and he reinstates it every single night, with plunging thrusts and blunt nails and sharp hipbones.

possessive yandere koko fucks you so goddamn good that it makes up for all of the marring and marking, all of the pain and the soreness he leaves in his wake, with absolutely mindblowing orgasms.

he fucks you until your body is nothing more that a sweet, stupid little boneless heap of limbs, bones turned liquid and muscles gone heavy and pliant and soft, yielding to his every demand.

he fucks you until your throat’s been abraded by the constant stream of moans and whines and mewls pouring from your mouth, flow only interrupted by the the vicious pounding of his hips, juddering your flesh.

he fucks you until your cute little brain has gone fucking numb, fucking dumb, hazy and incapable of comprehending anything other than him, him, him; his name, his lips, his cock.

he fucks you until you can no longer cling to those tattered shreds of consciousness, until it’s all too much and you have to shut down in every sense of the word, vision whiting and mind wiping as your wrecked body seeps into the mattress, gone practically comatose as sleep finally claims you.

he ensures you end your day like this every single night, with his name splintering to shards on your tongue, messy and mangled in thick strands of drool, and his hands snapping blood vessels in the shapes of his fingerprints beneath your skin, and his seed stuffing you so full that it’s oozing out from your abused little hole, his cream smeared across your thighs and dribbling down your ass to puddle in the ridges of the sheets.

he embeds himself in you in all respects; in your body, in your mind, in your soul, depositing fragments of him in you day in, day out and working ceaselessly to guarantee they never fade, so you won’t ever be able to forget who owns you, even if you wanted to.

#kokonoi smut #kokonoi hajime smut #kokonoi x reader #kokonoi x you #kokonoi hajime x reader #kokonoi hajime x you #koko x reader #koko smut #tHIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS LONG LMAO #IT JUST KINDA #GREW OUTTA CONTROL #ENJOY ANON!!!#also stay safe n stay healthy!!#inky.koko #inky.bb #clari gets mail

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apexlegendsstuffs · 7 months ago

Text

IM HAVING TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS- LMAO enjoyyy <3

#apex legends #ballistic apex #ballistic apex legends #heatedblaze☕️💢#mad maggie #mad maggie apex legends #mad maggie x ballistic #fanart #sfm art #sfm #cryptage #holohacker #crypto apex legends #mirage apex legends #elliott witt #tae joon park #fuse apex #walter fitzroy

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coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic · 2 years ago

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My New Addiction. Pt 1

><><><><><><><><

Yeah so I went very overboard with this and I think I’ll make a part 2 eventually. Def a slow burn mutual pining type thing.

Also lmk if the Spanish is off at all!!

———————————

Octane x Fem!Reader

CW: mutual pining, s l o w burn, swearing,

You did it. You finally did it, you were a Legend! An Apex Legend! You worked your ass off and you made it, you were on the way to meet everyone and get settled into your new home. Yes you were nervous, you’re a fan of almost all the legends and now you were one of them, how could you NOT be nervous? You breathe in and out as the momentum slows and you realize that you’ve arrived. The door gets opened by the driver and you exit, your bags already being taken up to your room.

As you were lead to the main area where everyone was gathered, you heard music and chatter before you got there. Everyone got quiet when you entered and the first one to say something was none other than Mirage.

“Hey hey! There’s the new gal! Welcome to our uni-un- special group! I’m Elliot, also known as Mirage.” He takes a little bow and suddenly another one of him wraps his arm around himself. It was confusing but you laugh nonetheless at his greeting.

Soon Ajay came up and shook your hand, smiling. “Hey now, welcome to da family! I’m Lifeline on da field but you can call me Ajay. What’s ya name?” You smile back, shaking her hand. Thee Lifeline, she’s literally so iconic and you’re just buddies with her suddenly. It was hard to maintain composure. “I’m Y/n! Nice to meet everyone!” You say cheerfully.

Fuse hollers out “and she’s a looker! What a deal!” The typical thing Fuse would say, soon being nudged by his own partner Bloodhound. That earned a chuckle from the one eyed Aussie and a kiss was placed on the masked hunter’s temple in apology. You thought they were flirtatious with each other but didn’t know they were actually together!

You went down the line of greetings until Ajax sighed and looked visibly annoyed. “Now where is that fool? I told him ta show up! SILVA YA BETTA GET YA ASS OVA HERE RIGHT NOW!” She shouted, soon enough you all hear distant mechanical sounds at a hurried pace. “Sorry Che! Sorry! Got a little carried away with the livestream! Did I miss the new guy?” He asked absentmindedly as he entered the room, everyone basically just gestures towards you and he soon looked over himself. “Oh! Hola! Welcome welcome! I’m Octavio! Nice to meet you, chica!” He walked over and greeted you personally, taking off his goggles revealing his eyes to you. He doesn’t reveal his face online or during the matches so you hadn’t seen his face before. What you did see though, was extremely attractive.

The evening started to liven up, as you were shown to your room and got to change. Wraith, who you came to know as Renee, told you about the welcome party they were throwing for you at the bar they go to. It was a special bar exclusively for the legends and higher ups in the industry to keep from getting bombarded with fans, paparazzi and onlookers. It was the best place for them to unwind other than their personal quarters. You nod and decide to change into something a little nicer. A form fitting top, with a loose sweater over it and some jeans. Nothing fancy but it was nicer than your typical outfit.

First thing you see was Elliott, Loba, Octavio and Natalie (Wattson) on the dance floor having a ball. They were tearing it up and once Loba caught sight of you she rushed over and dragged you to join. “Come on beautiful! You’re the guest of honor tonight! Want something to drink?” She asks as she pulls you into the group of friends dancing about.

You nod and tell her to get something strong but fruity and she just winks and says ‘leave it to me’ and waltzed off to the bar. A few songs and drinks in, you were feeling pretty loose, you were sitting in a booth with Ajay, Octavio, Renee, Loba and Elliott. They kind of already inserted themselves as your clique for now until they all get to know you and you basically choose yourself. You couldn’t complain though, you were enjoying every moment of this and as the night went on, the more comfortable you got. Not to mention you got to see Octavio’s full face for most of the night and holy hell he was attractive. You already had a crush on the daredevil but now seeing his face, his smile, his eyes. Your heart melted, you tried extremely hard not to stare at the man, failing and getting caught a few times. The girls were quick yo notice and once Octavio left the table to go to the bathroom, Loba immediately leaned over.

“Someone’s got an eye on the speedster hm?” She grinned, chin on a hand, leaning closer onto the table. Your face flushed red and you attempted to deny it but everyone already knew. Ajay not understanding the attraction but she didn’t judge. He was also basically her brother so it was weird for her to see him in that light in any way.

The rest of the night went great, nothing crazy happened. Just a party and getting to know a few of the legends you’ll be fighting and fighting along side.

About a month or so passes by and it was your first time to be in a duos match with Octane. He knocked on your door early in the morning already hyper. You groggily open the door and see him bouncing a leg while he waited. “What’s up Tavi?” You ask through a yawn, he grinned and handed you a coffee he had just gotten. “Here! It’s got an extra shot in it, gotta make sure you can keep up with me! Don’t want you falling behind, besides we gotta kick ass today and get a win! It’s our first time getting paired up!”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, he was more excited than you thought he would’ve been, not that you thought he was gonna be excited in the first place but it was nice to know he was looking forward to fighting with just the two of you. You had been in trios together and he was as chaotic as you’d imagine. Rushing in. Losing sight of him entirely. Him leading squads to you. All the fun stuff Octane does. One thing though was you’d never actually used his jump pad. You have done your best to avoid that, you didn’t know what it was. You could drop out of the airship fine so it wasn’t the height that bothered you, you weren’t sure as to why you didn’t want to fly off that thing.

“Thanks Tavi, we’ll do great today.” You take a sip of the slightly stronger coffee that was gifted to you with a hum. “Mmm, delicious. Wanna come in? I was just gonna start making some food.” You offer and he shrugs. “Cant turn down a free meal can I?” He walked inside your little place with you and plopped himself onto a chair, leg bouncing as he sat. He really could just never keep still. As you were cooking and making conversation a few other legends come to the door, Octane opening it for you while you had your hands full.

A few familiar voices chime in, saying good morning and good luck. You heard Ramya nudge her way in. “Heyy newbie! How’s it goin? Wanted to see if you wanted to make a bet with me ya?” You had been warned about Ramya’s bets and stakes. You squint your eyes with a grin, brimming with curiosity. “Depends on what the bet is. Shoot.” She chuckled and placed both hands on her hips. “If my team wins, you gotta do something for us for a week. If you win, vise versa. Easy.” You raise your eyebrow and look over at Octavio, he’s smirking. Always up for a challenge. “HahHAH!” He laughs loudly and wraps an arm around you. “WHEN we win, be sure not to be sore losers.”

You sigh in defeat as they leave, now the stakes were higher. You didn’t want to do things for Ramya and Ajay for a week! Let alone knowing that Octavio would literally never let you live it down. You look over at the green haired daredevil as he was eating the simple breakfast you had made. “Tavi, we gotta win now.” He chuckled and looked at you. “If we lose, you owe me a kiss.” You owed him what now? Your face must’ve said the same thing because he smirked. “Good incentive huh?” He teased. You just sipped your coffee with a gaze. “Maybe I don’t wanna win now.” You say softly, kind of hoping he heard but also not. He did though and his eyebrow quirked. He licked his lips, getting a little speck of food off. “Well well, don’t threaten me with a good time, Señorita.” God he was hot. You were no stranger to getting distracted by him during matches, he was always laying down casual flirts to you but you assumed that was towards most people, like how Elliott flirts with everyone.

Wasn’t long til the match began. Octavio was laying it on thick, if you had slipped up or got knocked he would wink and say things like;

“Wow someone really wants that kiss.”

“Come on, Chica. I know you want to kiss me but this is a bit much.”

“Should I kiss you now so you keep up?”

All of it was NOT helping you with this ordeal. Soon enough though you hear the announcement of

3 REMAINING SQUADS.

You take a breath and heal up from the last fight you just finished, looking at Octane with a grin. “Hey we might actually win this thing!” You say excitedly. He nods and snaps a selfie with you. “Maybe you should kiss me if we win. How ‘bout that speedster?” You tease and he laughs a bit. “Like I said before. Don’t threaten me with a good time, hermosa.”

You cocked your head a bit, asking what that meant and he ignored you. As he ran off to find the last couple squads. You roll your eyes and follow in suit. All and all you didn’t win and Ramya and Ajey had, they were cheering and happily teasing you two for just barely losing. If Octane hadn’t rushed in when Ramya was downed he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed. You sighed and made your way back to the ship to return home. Octavio returning soon enough himself.

It was awkwardly silent between you two as the whole group returned, you both walked towards the winning duo, who both has smiles plastered onto their faces. “Don’t worry mates, we don’t have anything planned just yet. Enjoy your freedom for now!” Ramya patted both you and Octavio’s back and pushed you along. You two chuckled and you sighed a bit “I’m so nervous to find out what they have in mind for us.” Octavio shrugged and looked over at you “Eh I wouldn’t stress about it, Cariño. Whatever they come up with won’t be the worst thing.” You look at him, yet another nickname you don’t understand.

You don’t even bother trying to ask because you figured he wouldn’t tell you anyways. You sigh once again and rub the back of your neck. “You ok? Sore or something?” He asks with concern, looking right where you just massaged. “Yeah kind of. My neck is bugging me.” You admit and soon you feel two hands on your shoulder and where the base of your neck is. You let out a breath of relief as you started to feel the knots surface and loosen under his touch. Surprisingly he was really good at massages. You let out soft sounds of pleasure due to the tense muscles finally being worked on. “Oh my gosh Tavi..” you whisper out. What you didn’t see it the pink flush under his mask, the sounds he’s getting out of you was getting to him, his core beginning to heat up and his shorts slowly getting tighter, he felt dirty and a little ashamed his body reacted to something so innocent.

Soon enough he stopped and chuckled a bit “Yeahhh I kind of got magic hands Y’know?” He wiggled his fingers by his face, smirking in a silly way along with it, making you laugh a bit. There was a moment where you both kind of just looked at each other in silence, you catch him glance at your lips and back onto your eyes, you did the same thing. You heart skips a little when you see him leaning towards you, only to be interrupted by Elliott coming literally out of nowhere. “HEY! You guys almost had it! Good game.” He held out two fists for you guys to bump knuckles and you jump from the sudden voice and happily give him what he was lookin’ for. Can’t leave him hangin like that. He smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Well what you guys have planned? Anything fun? Can I come? I’m not doing anything and if you need some company I’d love to join you… I’m really bored.” He admitted his true intentions that he just wants some buddies to hang with and you both chuckle.

“We don’t have anything specific planned, just chillin until we gotta go do something.” You typically had a conference with paparazzi and interviewers after games but today it was scheduled for later so you’d all go get dinner afterwards. Elliott shrugged a bit and the three of you just hung out, Elliott being the metaphorical ‘cock block’ for Octavio. He unintentionally stayed close to you throughout the hangout session before you guys split off from Elliott to head to each of your rooms. Octavio sighed a bit and ran his hand through his hair “Well chica, as sad as it is we must depart from each other to go get fancier than I’d like.” He chuckled a bit before taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. “See ya!” He winked and ran off towards his room.

Once he was behind his closed door he ran his hands over his face, sighing. A lot was going through his mind, well more than usual. His attraction to you was gonna get him in trouble if he wasn’t careful. He tried to distract himself and actually make himself presentable for this press conference thingie that he hardly enjoyed going to. Only thing he enjoyed was his fans seeing him and interacting with him. At least he would see you dolled up right?

Oh God. He was gonna see you dolled up.

—————————

Next part.↪️

#fanfic #my writing #x reader #x y/n #octane x reader #octane #apex legends #apex #apex octane #apex legends octane #octavio silva #apex octane x reader #apex x reader #slow burn #mutua pining #flirtatious #apex legends x reader #apex octavio silva

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