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wearywinchester · 2 years ago

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Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction

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2-dsimp · 6 months ago

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omg zombie?? Rotting companion when?? I wonder if he's the slow type or the "I may be decomposing but I can sprint at a full 20 km/h" kind of guy

I luv zombiesss

-andwy tiddy hater

Cw: Heavy angst, obsessive/possessive tendencies, your boyfriend turning into a lovelorn zombie.

Synopsis: Soma, your boyfriend, happened to be the number one gamer in the world due to the fact that nobody could beat him at video games. Nobody except for his Lovely player two who he absolutely adores. One day during a zombie mob flash he sacrificed himself and got bitten in your stead so that you may live another day. Now as time passed, he was set to roam the streets as an undead zombie. Waiting to see you again to ensure that he won’t ever let the both of you be separated again. Not over his half dead body.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Soma, your boyfriend, is always so eccentric but sweet at the same time. He’d always make sure to mark down your important days on his calendar just to make sure he never misses a moment in his darling’s life. Which is everyday, from the moment you wake up down to the moment you close your eyes goodnight.

The Pro Gamers journal is filled with borderline obsessive scribbles of him recording the way that you sleep. And listing a bunch of observations about how adorable you looked curled up or sprawled out like a starfish. Not only that he takes the time to analyze and document every bit of your habits as if you he’s a biologist and you happened to be his precious specimen.

Either way no matter if you’re asleep or awake his hands won’t grow tired of drawing portraits of you. Within his sketchbook he used as an excuse to highlight gaming mechanics to his team. He’s pretty freighting when it comes to it, if you ask anyone on his team. They’d tell you to not even try and reach out towards it for a better look, since you get an automatic knee to the face.

“Oh my bad didn’t ya say that you wanted a close up of my combo breaker? Hmm? Not in irl? Well you Shoulda been more specific my guy”

Fast forward a few months, It all happened so suddenly when your part of town got hit with an unknown anomaly from a parasitic animal. That escaped from Devildom into the human realm. Successfully kickstarting a disease which made those who aren’t familiar with its origins. To fall into a frenzied state of loss consciousness and inability to control of one’s body.

During the earliest stages of the infection that spreading through your quaint city. Which was thankfully isolated from the rest to prevent even more of an outbreak. You were on a date with your boyfriend who was such a advocate for being spontaneous. Soma loved to surprise you with fun outings like going to amusement parks, para gliding, bungee jumping, kayaking, you name it.

But this time he wanted to give you a breather and take you on a lowkey cute date at a nearby cafe. Soma had an arm around your hip squeezing it lightly while he leaned against you like an over grown puppy.

“Lovie I’m so lucky to have you~ I don’t ever wanna live a day without being able to hold you, love you, kiss you, n fu—“

“Oh we’re here already! You excited to try out those cute menu items you’ve been fangirling about hun?”

Your boyfriend exclaimed giddily oftentimes having a habit of rambling on about how much he adores you on a daily basis. He went to open the door for you right after pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. It was something he always did before he had to leave your side even for just a brief moment.

Since he was paranoid in the fact that anything could happen to his cherished relationship with you. And he’d rather not it happen without him kissing you one last time.

You guys had just entered the door only to be met with a the rabid eyes and foaming mouths of the former patrons that dined there. It wasn’t any help that this cafe was jammed packed due to their popularity so it’d only take a split second for you to get snatched up by one of the infected standing in line.

You could barely register the way you were shoved out of the store by your boyfriend in an attempt to guard you from being taken by the horde. You stumbled outside the glass doors eyes wide with shock as you witnessed. A different side of Soma that you’ve never seen before, one that had him going batshit crazy.

Seeing how those filthy hands tried to take you away from him. Had him going off on a tangent about how he’d kill them twice over, for even trying to touch a single hair on your head. Claiming how you were his and his only and that nothing on heaven nor earth would change it.

Despite being outnumbered he put up one hell of a fight knocking the parasites down one by one into eventually one of them took a chance to bit his fist that he used to sucker punch their teeth out.

“Man you guys sure are tenacious for a bunch of deadweight…Shit just my luck”

Soma sighed, as if it was only a minor convenience that he’d gotten bitten. But nonetheless he kept letting his fist and legs fly not stopping until every single undead bastard was on the ground. Thanks to his self defense classes in karate.

It was only a matter of time before they got back up again so he turned around to give you a relaxed expression. A bright loving grin on his face as he asked you a simple question. While his veins became more prominent on his skin appearing in an abnormal pigment.

“Would you still love me as a zombie babes?”

You could only sob saying yes frantically as you watched your loved one turn into a different being. At your answer he let out a flippant sigh of relief before continuing to lock himself inside the restaurant. Using the key that was hanging off the hip of an employee he stunned.

“Good, then you’d better watch your back since whether im dead or alive I’d still be crazy in love with you baby.”

The gamer said in a soft tone that had a darkened edge to it, almost as if he wasn’t just trying to lighten up the mood with one of his lighthearted quips. But was issuing you an actual warning to beware of if you ever came across him while he wasn’t in control of himself.

Now go, your eyes should see only good things. And I’m afraid it’s gonna be ugly for me, Ah wait! Before you go…Give me kiss?”

Soma asked with a boyish grin pressing his face against the glass door with his lips puckered. As he waggled his eyebrows at you. It made you pissed off to say the least at how he was treating this a some kind of joke.

But you couldn’t help but notice his body twitching sporadically which was a telltale sign of how anxious he was. How scared he was of losing you. And how terrifying he’d be once he turned knowing that there’d be nothing to hold him back from showing his purest form of love for you.

Your boyfriend was already internally battling the urge to pull you against him. So you’d never leave his sight, that you two would be together forever regardless of death since nothing could ever change the way his heart beats purely for you. So just one more kiss, no matter if There’s a thin glass barrier, he just wants to be close to you, to somewhat feel you before his body shuts down on him.

You scrambled to press yourself against the door your palm on top of his. You gave him one last longing gaze, beforehand pressing your lips against the glass. Not noticing how he was just unblinkingly staring at your reflection. Burning the image of you so deeply into his mind that even if his critical thinking perished he’d never ever forget you even in death.

You were hesitant to leave him wanting to stay until his final hours but he childishly shooed you away. Claiming that he doesn’t want you to see him become an uggo version of himself. Since glowing down in front of his beau would be immensely embarrassing. He couldn’t help but feel a cruel twist of satisfaction seeing your reluctance to leave his side and those pretty eyes of yours welling up with tears meant only for him.

“We’ll meet again soon Lovie, mark my words, if you think I’d ever leave you alone then you’ve got another thing coming… So make sure to do your best until I come to make you mine once more permanently”

A few days later, the infection took hold of him but not in a way he was expecting. Sure he may have lost some of his humanity, but for a strange reason. The pro gamer still retained some fragments of his consciousness. His head was pounding from your name, invading his headspace. With every pulse of his brain that was fried at the moment.

Soma chuffed with a crooked grin, as he suspected not even death would take away his inherent need for you. Nor could it ever make it cease to be. He had to find you, sure it was selfish but he can’t stop from obsessing over your very being ingrained in his hazy memory. Where only the images of you were clear as can be.

Breaking the lock with his newly found inhuman strength, he became a half mindless zombie. Who actively searches for his you like a moth to a flame. Tearing everything and anything apart that stands in his way.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

A/n: if you want to see more of your undead boyfriend feel free to send in an ask 👀

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itneverendshere · 6 months ago

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a circus ain't a love story - baby daddy! rafe.

request: "baby daddy! rafe where reader and rafe are not together and she’s going on dates with men and he’s jealous but not like possessive jealous but like 🤭 jealous?" @zyafics

warnings: cursing; rafe's an asshole but he's just going through it <3; a lil angsty??; lots of tension and pent-up frustration; they just need to fuck it out honestly.

rafe likes to think of himself as a changed man.

long gone is the reckless impulsive guy that reigned horror in the outer banks. he’s grown now, the man of the family, and a father. he spends his days working hard, providing for his family, and cherishing every moment with his baby girl.

but when he learns you’ve been seeing other men after your ‘amicable’ breakup, he feels like he’s nineteen and ranging in misplaced anger all over again. younger days, when his temper ruled his actions and consequences were an afterthought.

old insecurities resurface, whispering doubts and fears into his mind.

you’d broken up before, years ago, and it barely lasted a month before both of you caved in. but now? now, you have a baby together, and for some reason, the breakup feels…permanent.

he thought you just needed a breather from him, a little space to settle your mind after going through all the changes with your pregnancy. maybe he took you for granted, maybe he became too comfortable, too complacent in the belief that your love was unshakeable. and he’s paying for it.

“where the fuck are you going?”

he knows exactly where you’re going, he’s just a masochist.

rafe’s always been vocal about his thoughts around you, having virtually no filter between his brain and mouth. it’s something you’ve gotten used to after five years in a relationship, the man is nothing if not blunt and crass. but now, it's different.

you’re not a couple anymore. you shouldn't have to put up with his nagging bullshit. but you have a child together, which means that you’ll never be able to fully scratch him out of your system.

how were you so good before and yet so terrible once your daughter got here?

you sigh, choosing to keep your back to him.

“date.”

you hear him snort, not even having to peek to know he’s shaking his head, blue eyes lingering between your new dress and the ceiling, “my bad. thought you were going to a gala.”

you turn then, hand on your waist as you take him in. it’s hard not to stare at his freshly shaved hair and it only makes you want to slap him stupid for not doing it years ago. what’s the point if you can’t have him?

“why? it’s not illegal to put in effort.” you tilt your head slightly, ignoring the way his eyes are burning holes through your shiny legs.

he pulls his eyes back to your face, but all you can see is the imprinted vision of your daughter laying on his chest earlier, her chubby cheek pressed against his shirt and her little hand curled around his finger.

rafe’s heart clenches, the bitterness of your words sinking deep into his bones. he knows what you're implying, knows that you're trying to hurt him.

“he’s worth all that, huh?”

you shrug your shoulder, pieces of your hair falling back as you attempt to act nonchalantly, “maybe he is.”

rafe’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, half-grimace, a familiar expression that used to make your heart race but now just knots your stomach.

“who is it this time? it’s just kinda hard to keep track of your dates.”

his gaze lingers on you, searching for something, perhaps a hint of the girl he fell in love with, buried beneath layers of resentment and exhaustion.

you grit your teeth, the frustration growing beneath the surface threatening to spill over, “you don’t know him.”

he shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “got yourself a touron?”

“don’t piss me off.”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m not trying to. just curious.”

“his name is mike.”

rafe's lips quirk into a sardonic smile as he hears the name. "mike, huh? sounds like a guy who sells insurance or teaches yoga on the weekends."

you shoot him a glare, unamused by his jest. "can you just be serious for once?"

catching sight of the offended look in your face, he adds, “it’s not my fault you keep choosing the ugly ones.”

you stare at him incredulously, “you don’t even know him!”

“hear me out, okay? if you’re ever going to give charlotte a sibling might as well—“

you’d throw the mug on your kitchen table at his head if charlotte wasn’t sleeping in the room next door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny don’t you?!”

rafe hushes you, one of his hands rising to his lips, “what happened to no cursing in the house?”

your eye twitches, fingers itching to wrap themselves around his throat. “i’ll strangle you right here, rafe.”

“you got a new kink, mama?”

his ability to push your buttons has always been unparalleled, and it seems he's mastered the art even more since your breakup. he still manages to evoke a weird mixture of irritation and fondness within you.

“you can’t keep doing this. i like mike, maybe i want to date mike.”

rafe's expression shifts, his brows furrowing slightly as if your words have struck a chord. but then, just as quickly, his facade hardens again. he raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "i’m just trying to help. you said the exact same thing about whatever his fucking name was two months ago.”

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “see! you’re trying to patronize me.”

“’m not.”

“right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, “course you aren’t.”

his taunting smirk is more than a little infuriating. “i just doubt this guy is gonna stick around.”

“oh, so that’s it?” you prod him, laughing in his face, hands curling into tight fists. you get closer, staring him down as you look upwards. “we’re back to lying to each other now?”

rafe’s face is contorted into a grimace; eyebrows furrowed, and you can feel his steady breathing before he speaks.

”i can do this all day.” he scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “i think the moment you tell him about charlotte he’s gonna run back to whatever hole he creeped out of. you think he wants to be a daddy?”

“who said he has to? that’s your job. maybe i just want to fuck him, you ever think about that?” the admission feels like a betrayal and a liberation all at once.

it’s a familiar dance you two have been doing since the breakup – hurling accusations and blame at each other like weapons in a war neither of you can win.

rafe’s smirk fades into a scowl as your words hit him like a slap in the face. he takes a step back, one of his hands instinctively rising in a placating gesture, but there's a defiant glint in his eyes that tells you he's not backing down without a fight.

his jaw tightens, “now you’re just trying to get under my skin.”

you throw your hands up in despair, “it’s always about you, unbelievable.”

you feel like your heart is being vacuumed into your stomach as he stares.

“me?” his fingers dig into his chest, as if you’ve shot him right there, “you're the one who's constantly bringing up other guys, rubbing it in my face like- like i'm supposed to just sit back and take it."

you let out a slow controlled breath and attempt to loose your body movements. “we’re not doing this again.”

rafe knows he's treading on thin ice, but relents, “oh, m’sorry sweets. forgot you hate to be reminded i care.”

“care?” you laugh but it’s void of any humor, “is this your way of showing me you care? making me miserable? slut-shaming the mother of your daughter?”

“didn’t mean it like that, don’t twist my words.”

you square your shoulders, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. "you said what you said, and you can't take it back."

his jaw clenches, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he searches for the right words to say, “you’re pushing it.”

there’s a fiery anger in your eyes that makes his body warm. “so fucking what?”

without a word, rafe closes the distance between you, his movements tentative yet purposeful. his hand reaches out, fingers gripping your cheeks, his rough touch sending your body into a frenzy. you want to push him away, but the pull between you is too strong to resist. you’ve been yearning for his touch for months, no one knows how to pull your strings like he does.

“you drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”

you merely blink, pretending to be bored, “go fuck yourself.”

and then, in a rush of pent-up desire and frustration, rafe snakes a hand around the back of your head to pull you to meet him in a passionate kiss.

it’s all sorts of desperate as if trying to bridge the problems between you, you're arching into him as his hand trails down your spine. his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him urgently. there's a hunger in rafe’s touch, a desperation to reclaim what his lost, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles with a familiarity that sends shivers down his spine.

“you’re not going on a fucking date.” he pants between kisses, the way his lips caress your face keeping you close distracting you momentarily.

“you can’t stop me.”

his hand slides around your waist, over the curve of your ass, grabbing a handful in the process, “watch me.”

#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe x female!mc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #babydaddy!rafe #this is literally just rafe being an asshole #the angst got out of hand #i was about to write smut but fell asleep

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aealzx · 10 days ago

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Danny was thirsty. And while that was usually a problem that was easily remedied by the water bottle that had been left for him on the bedside table, he’d already drained it. And the others were probably all in the kitchen having lunch, judging by the fact there was no one in the room with him other than the two dogs, and the amount of sun coming through the window. He’d woken up extremely late that day, so they’d probably decided to let him sleep and bring him more broth later. That was fine, he wasn’t really hungry, his mouth was just dry. As if his body was ignoring the IV stuck in his arm.

Oh well.

He knew he was supposed to rest, but he was starting to feel a bit smothered being stuck to the same room for a few more days. So going downstairs to join everyone in the kitchen for some water shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Everyone still got a little fussy when he got out of bed on his own. But trips to the bathroom weren’t that exhausting anymore, so he figured a slow walk to the kitchen wouldn’t be much different. He could manage it easily, he wasn’t even aching much at all at this point. He’d just take it nice and slow, and no one would complain.

With that idea stubbornly planted in his mind Danny pulled the quilt off and slid his feet to the floor. Sitting up always made him feel much worse than when he was laying down, but as the days passed the dizziness and fatigue was lessening more and more. And he’d already settled it in his head that he was going to fetch his own water, so after a moment of letting his spinning head still he shoved off the bed, grabbing the IV pole to bring with him like usual. Ace and Titus, as he’d learned the dogs’ names were, were quick to stand from where they’d been lounging, trotting close to Danny like they usually did. They were really good dogs, and Danny couldn’t help grinning as he reached out to pet Titus’ head a few times.

Okay. He was up, and he knew the kitchen was downstairs. He could make it there, and if he needed to he could take a break on said stairs. No big deal. Just one foot in front of the other, leaning on the IV pole for a little support. Nevermind how his breath became heavy shortly after he’d left the bedroom. Nevermind how the movement caused his numbed body to start protesting with bone deep aching. One step. At a time. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Dragging the pole with him. He’d leave it at the stairs and just carry the bag once he got to them. It would be too much effort to carry the whole thing downstairs.

To Danny’s credit he managed to make it to the top of the stairs before his legs gave out, which was significantly further than the bathroom. And luckily Titus was there to dart in front of him and half catch him as he fell. He barely heard Ace give a short bark as well before coming to wedge against Danny’s side while he sagged against Titus, heaving air into his burning lungs. Okay, so he was taking a break before he’d planned, but that was fine! He’d made it to the stairs, that was still an achievement. He was fine. He just needed a breather. Just a short rest, crumpled on the floor and using Titus as support as the dog was laying patiently on the ground next to him.

“Danny?!”

Aw shoot. Someone had caught him. Who was that? The voice wasn’t completely familiar yet, but Danny recognized the figure easily enough. Once he’d pulled his eyes open and lifted his head enough from Titus’ back to see who was practically jumping up the stairs, skipping steps completely to reach him, Danny remembered his name. Right, that was Tim. The one that had been the first to introduce himself after Bruce.

“What happened? Is everything okay? The dogs are trained to fetch someone if you tell them to, did they not listen?” Tim asked rapidly, kneeling on the ground next to Danny and resting a hand on his back.

It took Danny a minute more of heaving air before he could answer, feeling just a little bad for being caught since Tim seemed genuinely concerned something was majorly wrong. It was enough discomfort that Danny tried to lighten the mood by making a joke. “D’didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to leave,” he teased lightly.

It didn’t earn the response he was hoping for, Tims expression falling instead of being amused. “No, that’s not it. We just don’t want you to wear yourself out,” he explained, wondering if Danny really did think he was restricted in where he could go. Bruce had made a comment before that Danny seemed used to being confined and potentially restrained.

“It’s fine. It’s just a walk to the kitchen. I can do it,” Danny protested. He didn’t need to be waited on for something as simple as a drink of water. He wasn’t comatose anymore, and he was quite capable of moving around. Sure his whole body ached, and his chest and ribs felt like they were being scraped with each breath right now, but it was fine. It would stop once he got his water and got back to bed. No big deal.

Tim seemed to realize something from that comment that made him sigh slightly. Danny was apparently just as stubborn as many others that frequented this manor. “C’mon, let me help you,” Tim requested, reaching forward to try to help Danny upright.

“I said I can do it!” Danny snapped, squirming away from Tim and weakly swatting his hands away. But of course his body had to disobey his will, and without support from Titus or anyone else he couldn’t hold himself up at the moment and flopped back on the floor. He knew it didn’t make his claim convincing, so glared at Tim and repeated his words before Tim could comment. Though the unimpressed expression Tim had said enough. “I can do it myself. I just… need a break. I’m fine,” Danny huffed, letting his body rest limply on the floor and averting his gaze in a mild pout.

“Uh huh,” Tim pretended to agree, voicing his disapproval this time, but surprisingly just shifted to sit on the top stair and loop his hands around his knees. Danny wasn’t sure if he was giving in and letting him try to catch his breath, or just didn’t know what else to say. But he wasn’t leaving, and Danny couldn’t figure out if he wanted to be annoyed about that or not. Tim was at least respecting his demands enough to not just ignore him and try to help anyway like Jazz did. But he also wasn’t sassing him for refusing help when he obviously needed it. The silence was a weird response, and Danny couldn’t figure out what his aim was.

Before he could think too much about it though, Tim spoke up again, a little softer this time. “...You don’t have to, you know?”

It was a simple question in construct, but one that Danny hadn’t been expecting. And it made his breath catch in his throat. He’d been expecting to be either met with equal annoyance, or coddled and told he didn’t know what he could do or needed. But that wasn’t what Tim was implying at all… Was it?”

“...What?” Danny asked, staring at Tim in open confusion.

Tim had to snicker as Danny copied Jazz’s mannerisms so closely. They really were siblings. “You don’t have to do everything on your own,” he repeated patiently, turning back to face Danny with a rather strange smile. “Just because you can do it on your own, doesn’t mean you should have to. It’s okay to let people help when they want to.”

For some reason the words Tim said didn’t catch Danny’s attention as much as the expression he was making. Like this was an old battle he’d fought too many times, to the point he was starting to get a little worn. “...Are you okay?” Danny ended up asking, having regained enough strength to push himself upright again.

Tim ended up huffing and rolling his eyes at the question. “Oh yeah, I’m great,” he answered, not even bothering to hide any sarcasm. “I just live with a family full of people who love to push themselves way more than they should and make everyone else worry about their ability to take care of themselves and not end up dead because they were too stubborn to ask for help.”

Danny couldn’t help the wince he gave after hearing that response. There was the annoyed response Danny had thought he’d get earlier. But for some reason the phrasing on this one stung a little more than any of the comments Sam or Tucker had made. Tim didn’t try to drill it into him that he couldn’t do what he was trying to do, just that he didn't have to. And it didn’t feel like he was trying to get Danny to take care of himself because there was no one to replace him if he was gone either. Just that he could ask for help because it was better to not do things on his own.

“I don’t…,” Danny faltered, trying to force himself to respond without having given himself enough time to figure out what to say. “I’m not… used to being able to…ask…,” he admitted, feeling anxiety building in his chest over saying something like that. It was like he was admitting his friends and family weren’t very good at supporting him. After they already did so much for him, how could he say that?

It wasn’t quite what Tim had expected, and what little frustration he had was quick to melt into mild guilt. He felt like apologizing wouldn’t be received well though, so he ended up asking something else that didn't quite make sense only after he said it. “Oh….You wanna… practice then?”

Danny snorted helplessly at the question that once again caught him off guard. It was an offer instead of a lecture, and it once again was too far out of Danny’s expectations for him to have a quick answer. It was a simple answer, he could hear it in his head. But getting his mouth to say the words, to ask for help to the kitchen, seemed impossible. So he tried rephrasing it. “I… the water ran out,” he admitted, already feeling embarrassed for some dumb reason. “I just wanted….” He paused, realizing explaining the situation wasn’t even close to asking for assistance. “I’i… ‘d like to go get some… myself.”

It wasn’t the most clear request for help, but Tim would still take it. “...Would it be okay if I carried you?” he asked, rewarding Danny’s effort by filling the gap in for him.

This time it was easier for Danny to nod in acceptance, and Tim gained a gentle smile before pushing himself to his feet. “Let me just grab a blanket and slippers for you so Alfred doesn’t fuss. I’ll be right back,” he requested, letting Danny stay with Ace and Titus to fetch said items. The bedrooms of the manor were warm, but the rooms with tiled floors could get a little chilly in the cooler months so Alfred would insist on Danny staying warm. Which meant Tim brought back a pair of soft slippers for Danny’s bare feet, and a small blanket to drape on his shoulders before he knelt in front of him to make it easier for the lad to cling to his back.

“...I thought you were younger than Jason,” Danny ended up commenting after Tim had him adjusted comfortably and had made it halfway down the stairs.

“I am,” Tim confirmed, not sure where the comment was coming from but having a vague guess. “I’m only a year older than you.”

Danny made a surprised noise at the comment, scrunching his face. “Wow, you seem older than Jazz. How come you’re so put together?”

This time it was Tim’s turn to snort, not quite sure how to answer that. “Uhhhh… perks of coming from a busted family? I dunno,” he guessed. “I’m just the weird one in a family of weirdos.”

It sounded like it was something Tim was still at least a little insecure about, so Danny decided not to tease him any more. “...Mm… That’s not always a bad thing,” he offered as consolation.

It helped, and Tim chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I guess not,” he grinned, quickly reaching the kitchen much faster than Danny could have on his own.

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This next section ended up waaaay too long, so I have to split it into 3 parts X'D

The nugget is mobile (sort of) yaaaay \o7o/

also I had some of this part written months ago, but it originally had Dick instead of Tim. But I switched it for Tim 'cause I wanted Danny to have interactions with others.

also I couldn't decide what part of the scene to draw, so let my beta reader decide =v=

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai,

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

#my art #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #fanfic #writing #long post

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fairlyang · 5 months ago

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18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.3 🕷️

w/c: 1.8K

tags: 18+ smut. filth filthy filthy. going back, finding him, voyeurism, surprising him, blowjob, properly riding him, unprotected sex, slightly possessive x2, creampie

a/n: alright we’ll see how long this goes for bc it’s been fun writing them all back to back

part 1.1 | part 1.2

as soon as you got home you took out one of your toys because the sexual frustration was actually killing you.

it was killing you so much that the next morning you drove your ass to the sex toy store again. you didn’t have each other's numbers so you only had to manifest he'd also show up bright and early because he wanted to see you so bad.

you walked into the store and quickly went into the back, then practically ran to the theater. you went through the double doors and you could hear faint moans. the projector was playing some porn with a girl getting fucked by a huge guy.

you gulped and went to the right side and sat on the first seat in the back row. there were only a handful of people on each side based off the moans and groans but only as you were sat down did you decide to take a look around.

you looked at your row and no one was there. you stood up a little and looked at the row in front of you to surprisingly find the man that’s been living in your head.

his chair was slightly reclined and you could see his head on the headrest of his chair. you walked over to the right since he was near the middle of his row and you were now able to hear his moans.

you watched as he jerked himself off intensely watching the screen in front of him. you fought back a moan at the sight and walked to the left to get to him because you needed him so bad.

his eyes were glued to the screen until you came into his view and he gave you a wide grin. you gave him a sweet smile then dropped to your knees.

he frowned and shook his head, “I need to make up for last night.”

you shrugged and took his cock in your hands, softly stroking him while retaining eye contact, “let me do this first.”

“fine but I’m cumming inside you.” he says and spreads his legs so you could get closer.

you kiss his tip and flutter your lashes at him, “is that a promise?”

he groans and brings a hand down to your jaw, “absolutely.”

you squeezed your thighs together and took him in your mouth, not wasting any time and taking as much as you could down your throat. his hand took its place on your head, gently pushing you down to encourage you to take more.

you let him and took more of him as you bobbed your head up and down his length, surprisingly able to take more than half. he groaned and laid his head back as you looked up at him.

he looked down at you and there was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on yet but you were definitely going to be trouble. he was already growing obsessed, he just wanted to take you back to his place and take you in every square inch of his house.

but he’d have to wait a bit until that happened.

“that’s such a good fucking girl.” he murmurs making you squeeze your thighs together.

who knew praise from an older man could have such an effect on your body?

apparently he did because he continued.

“you like sucking off a complete stranger’s cock baby?” he murmurs and you moan against him.

he curses under his breath and you go all the way down until you could feel his pubic hair tickle your nose. you then pulled back all the way and let the saliva drip down to his cock as you took a breather.

you stroked it and stuck your tongue out before slapping the tip onto your tongue. miguel was losing it and he was trying his hardest to not pull you off your feet and just take you how he needs.

based on how long it took you to actually take his cock, he decided his against it because if he was one thing he was always a gentleman.

which is why he grabbed your arms, pulling you up before he stood up and he made you sit down. you got comfortable as he got down and spread your legs apart.

he kissed your right ankle and slowly started kissing up your calve to your knee then very slowly kissed up your thigh. he kissed your inner thigh then went up to kiss your clothed clit.

he moved down then licked a strip from your entrance up to your clit which left you breathless. his eye contact was so insane but you couldn’t look away.

and you were definitely already wet enough for him.

“Miguel please I need you already.” you whined with a pout on your lips.

he looked down at your panties and the entirety was soaked. you completely drenched them.

without another word he grabbed you and sat down then pulled you on top of him.

you grabbed his cock and positioned it to your entrance, hoping your body was ready. you moved down just enough for his tip to go inside making you whimper.

you lifted yourself up then went back down, taking more than just the tip. no pain.

You went back up then fully slammed down making you both moan. “Fuck baby-“

“you like when strangers ride your dick?” you breathlessly teased and he just chuckled.

“only pretty ones like you.” he murmured making you clench against him.

his eyes rolled back and you put your hands on his shoulders to help you. his hands were on your hips and he was helping you bounce before he’d take over.

“so fucking pretty.” he mumbled and you bit your lip.

you stared down at his lips and you had an urge to scratch. you leaned in, getting closer to his face as you moved your hips up and down slowly.

he was watching you intently. he could read your mind from a mile away so he didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. you kissed back and brought a hand up to his jaw as his roamed your body.

the kiss was slow at first before Miguel turned it into a hungry and hot one fast by sliding his tongue into your mouth. you moaned into his mouth and you could feel him twitch inside you.

you moved your body faster as you kissed him back with just as much passion when he suddenly pulls away and starts kissing down you jaw then to your neck. “you feel fucking amazing gorgeous.” he murmurs against your skin and you just whimper.

you continue at your pace until Miguel kisses down your chest then cleavage and you go faster. this time you wore another dress with no bra so your tits were bouncing in his face and he felt like he was getting teased.

he took them out and squeezed them, then pinching your nipples having you whimper more for him. you slowed down a little since it seemed like he was going to be giving them attention no matter what.

he squeezed them together then latched onto your right nipple and started sucking. you moaned and with one hand bringing him closer because it all just felt so good. “just like that Miguel-“ you moaned and he pulled away to suck on your left nipple harder.

“Shit-“ you groaned and straightened up but he was latched to you like glue.

He then pulled away once again to suck on your right nipple and you bounced harder making him moan against you. he finally pulled away then pulled back in to suck on the skin right above your right nipple.

he pulled away and admired the red mark he left. he needed you to be all his. immediately if possible. he really didn’t like to share and the way he could see the men watching you from the row behind you, he needed to make sure you would be.

“I’m gonna fuck you now okay? Let me do the work.” He says and you nod.

you lifted yourself up a bit but he shook his head and brought you all the way down. first he pressed the button so the recliner can move back because he wanted to fuck you the same as the first time.

he lifted his hips up slightly then started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. the noises alone were enough to get the attention of everyone in the theater so some of the guys were just jerking off while watching. luckily your back was turned to them so you had no idea. just completely focused on the absolute pleasure you were getting from this man.

you moved your body down and laid your head against his chest while slightly arching your back. his arms were wrapped firmly around you and you were a moaning mess.

he’s so happy he took the gamble on coming in bright and early hoping you’d come in as well. you had incredible sexual chemistry together and he wasn’t willing to let that go to waste or to have someone else snatch you.

and clearly it paid off.

he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“miguel- so good-“ you moaned out as he thrusted deeper he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“I know baby. fuck-“ he groaned as you started to kiss his neck and chest.

you then started sucking on his skin because it was only fair you left your mark on him too.

you weren’t too fond of sharing either.

he felt his orgasm coming close and his thrusts started becoming more sloppy and just deep. you hold onto his arms as he twitched inside you. your own orgasm was coming in and he was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly everytime you closed your eyes it was like seeing stars.

“please cum inside me-“ you murmured and slammed your ass into him.

he groaned and his thrusts got harder, his grip on your body was getting loose and your body was starting to shake. you both continued doing your thing at the same time so it was to no surprise that you both came when you brought your ass down as Miguel thrusted deep inside you.

he released all his load inside you and you just let out shaky breaths as he held you and kissed your head gently. your eyes closed and you could hear your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.

you took slow and steady breaths as you calmed down while miguel did the same. his chest was going up and down and hearing his heartbeat was kind of comforting in a way.

you laid in his arms just cockwarming him and calming yourself down while Miguel shooed all the pervs away because he just made sure to make you his in front of all of them so they wouldn’t forget it.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara oneshot #atsv miguel #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 8 months ago

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The Scars On His Back

Just going to slowly reupload my fics...two at a time...

Summary: Astarion has a nightmare and goes out to the forest for a breather when he runs into you.

He’s back there again, with the feeling of a knife tearing into his back, carving up his flesh. Blood runs down his body, creating rivers of crimson on his pale skin and drips onto the floor, pooling between his feet. He can feel the stickiness of the liquid penetrating the gaps between his toes, the feeling sending shivers up his spine. His lifeblood drains with each moment, the pain overwhelms what is left of his soul and tears his body apart, sending screams ripping from his throat until his voice is hoarse but it never stops. The knife digs in again and again, the pain harshly dragging him back into reality each time he drifts off too far into the black void.

And then he wakes up with a start to the mess that is his tent, chest heaving out of habit and a sting in his eyes. His hands tremble as they reach up to wipe his weakness away, nearly causing him to nick himself. He presses his hands against his face, shakily drawing deep breaths.

He’s far far away from there now. He’s safe from him , with the tadpole in his head. He won’t have to bow and scrape to him as long as the tadpole remains. As long as you shelter him.

Hastily throwing on a tunic to cover up the scars, he heads outside his tent for some fresh air, to be away from the stuffiness that his tent brings tonight. The night air is cooling, a gentle breeze whistling through the still camp. Moonlight spills through the tree canopy, shining beams of silvery light upon the various tents pitched around the once burning campfire.

Quiet trills of nighttime creatures fill the silence, the smell of your blood wafting from…hold on. The smell of your blood? Ruby eyes widen and his feet move in the direction his nose is picking the scent up from before his mind can register anything. You are injured , his half-awake mind processes, a small pool of panic bubbling within his chest as he quickens his pace. How bad are your wounds? Have you been attacked? Will he make it in time?

He bursts through the trees, gaze frantically searching for any signs of an attack but all he sees was you. There is no sign or scent of enemies, only your lonesome figure sitting sheepishly on a rock, crimson liquid seeping through your fingers.

“Hi Astarion,” you smile, waving awkwardly.

“Y/N!” He hurries over to your side. “You’re bleeding.”

“So it seems,” you chuckle. “A small accident, really. I merely slipped on some wet grass and cut myself on the sharp edges of the stones.”

“You really are the clumsiest person I know, darling,” he shakes his head with a sigh, taking out some bandages and ointment. “Let’s treat this wound of yours before it gets infected. Wouldn’t want a small accident to turn into a big mess now, would we?”

You nod, biting your tongue before words that will ruin the mood slip past your lips. It’s better to keep to yourself how prepared he was to treat your injuries, and especially the fact that you could tell he was worried about you. Then an idea hits you.

“Since I’m already bleeding, do you want to feed on me?” The question sends his head shooting upwards, a quizzical look on his face.

“Feed…on you?”

“Yeah, like drink my blood since it’s leaking out of my body anyways, would be a shame if so much of it went to waste,” you can’t help but grin, “I can see your fangs peeking out, you know. Go ahead and drink, I don’t mind.”

He opens his mouth, moving it closer to your wound. The sweet scent of your blood hits his nostrils hard and they flare in response, hunger gnawing in his chest. You had offered your blood to him, what did you want in return? His body? His services?

Ruby red eyes search your face, waiting for you to lay down your conditions but you simply press your bleeding arm to his lips with a small smile, dabbing a sliver of blood on his lips.

“I mean it, Astarion. And no, I don’t want anything in return. I promise.”

A small puff of breath leaves his lips at your words and his tongue darts out, gently licking a stripe up your arm. When you don’t pull away, he gets a little bolder, sucking blood from the open wound. You hiss softly when his fangs dig in, drawing more blood from your body but keep your arm steady. He hungrily drinks it all in, the sweet flavour bursting in his mouth.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but your other hand moves towards his hair, gently running your fingers through his silver curls, twirling the longer strands around your index finger. You carefully avoid touching his ears, knowing how sensitive they are and instead tangle your fingers in the hair at the top of his head.

He quietly purrs against your arm, pressing his tongue against the wound to staunch what bleeding he can before cleaning the wound thoroughly with a damp cloth, sending vibrations running up your arm. Gently dabbing the ointment on your arm, he wraps a bandage around the wound, pressing one last kiss to it before standing back up, offering a hand.

“Shall we return to camp before the others begin panicking? I doubt they can function without the both of us.” The smile on his face is filled with apprehension, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Astarion –”

“Don’t you worry, my sweet. I’ll repay this debt of yours as soon as possible,” he winks, pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it in the slightest.”

As he turns to leave, you shout.

“Astarion!”

He stops in his tracks, turning around. Muscles tensed, he tries to cover up the fear that is thrumming through his veins with a feigned smile, hoping it’d mellow out your anger. After all, you could neve resist his smile…right?

You see the way fear flashes in his eyes and immediately regret raising your voice, even if it was out of frustration directed at yourself. Taking a deep breath to clear away your anger, you hold out a hand in peace offering.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” Your voice trails off. How do you even justify what you just did? You know of the horrors Cazador inflicted on him, and yet you still lash out.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N,” he chuckles nervously.

You vigorously shake your head, “I really am sorry about it. There’s no way I can justify raising my voice at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was really frustrated at myself for not being able to convince you I didn’t want anything in return, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Astarion searches for any sign of a lie in your words but finds nothing. You really meant it. Every word you said. Your apology, your insistence on needing nothing from him after he had just fed on you, all of it was sincere and genuine. His undead heart skips a beat and suddenly the night doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

You care about him.

Before he knows it, his feet carry him over to you once more, his hand sliding into your outstretched one. The warmth blooms from your palm and winds around his cold one as your fingers intertwine with his.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

“Will you accept my apology?” You ask softly, eyes downcast.

“Of course, dearest. I always will,” he leans in, lips hovering over your forehead. Can he kiss you? Will he taint you if he does?

You tilt your head upwards, meeting his lips with yours and he immediately melts into the kiss. Unlike his previous kisses, this one is filled with care and love, not the usual lust and passion he’s used to receiving. Your arms wrap around him, hands resting on his back where scars tell of his past and he reflexively tenses. But this time, the hands on his back mean him no harm. They lie there to pull him closer into your warm embrace, to protect him from those who seek to harm him. So he lets them rest on his vulnerable back, soaking in the strange warmness that the simple action brings.

Astarion closes his eyes, putting his own arms around you. It’s weird, hugging someone for the first time. You don’t mind his cold dead fingers resting on your back and even press closer against him, enveloping him in your warmth.

When your lips part ways, he doesn’t say a word lest his voice wavers and betrays him. He lets you do the talking, relishing in the way you hold onto his hand tightly. Not a single move is made when you lead him into his tent, only letting go of his hand to help him tidy up his bedroll. You make sure he’s comfortable before turning to leave, pausing when he calls out your name in such a gentle manner.

“Stay…with me?” He begs. Your heart aches from his tone and once more you’re reminded of how much he hurts on the inside, so you backtrack and wrap your arms around him.

“Always.”

#astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion angst

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thesuperiorrobin · 1 year ago

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This is so awkward.

You sit in front of Damian at a table in a small breakfast cafe somewhere in Gotham. It’s been months—maybe a year— since you’ve last seen him, although the last memory between the two of you is something you don’t want to remember. There’s a frown on your face as you poke at your food for a bit before you take a glance up at him.

“So…how have you been? It’s almost been a year”

thank god Damian was the first to break the silence between you two.

“I’ve been…. Alright,” you hesitate but go on “Y’know, with school and work, not to mention I moved from my old place into something more bigger and comfortable for my taste” You can hear him hum despite the noise that’s coming from the one kitchen and other people around you.

Finally, you take a bite out of your food—chewing slowly before you ask about him. Damian hesitates much more than you did earlier

“I’m doing just fine”

“That’s good to know”

the awkward silence comes back quickly, you aren’t really hungry so you go back to picking at your food after a couple of bites. Damian finishes half of his food and you have much more on your plate than his. He takes a breather, hands intertwining with each other as he brings them up to his face and finds a spot right under his nose.

You put down your fork “Why’d you call me here Damian? Surely you had a reason too”

“I do” he doesn’t give you many details so you frown.

“And what could that reason be?” He lets out a loud sigh, eyes closed as he thinks for a moment. It’s not long before he opens his mouth to say something

“I’m still in love with you” You are taken aback by the sudden bluntness of his sentence.

“What?”

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No—no I heard you fine the first time, it’s just—” you stop to take a breather “Damian you’re seeing someone, I’m seeing someone”

“You’re seeing someone?”

“That’s not the point” you shake your head “You have someone who can understand you more than I ever did. I know who she is and you two have so much in common. Much more than we ever did back then. She loves you” the sigh that comes out of his is much rougher.

“that’s the problem—she loves me, but I don’t love her” he tries to hold your hand but you pull back quickly shaking your head as you grab ahold of your purse and dig through it “Agreeing to meet you, was a bad idea” you pull out a twenty dollar bill and placed it on the table before getting up with your chair scratching against the floor roughly as it makes a noise.

“I moved on Damian, and so should you. Don’t contact me again.”

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne one shot #damian wayne fanfiction

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emotionally-damaged-carrot · 6 months ago

Note

Carlos x male slut reader

Reader has a habit of fucking the paddock (charles, lando, max, etc.) Now he's got his eyes on Carlos

Addicted

Sorry for the long wait, I got reallly busy and forgot about my tumblr hope you lot can understand. I will try to do the requests I promise, but at my own pace atm. Cause I have to cram a lot of shit. Hope this was good enough for atleast a few days, I will try to release another one in a few days, no promises though. Again, I am so sorry for the very very long wait, anyways, enjoy 🫶🫶.

(the smut kinda felt underwhelming and half assed tbh, I will try to do better next time. Sorry anon for the very long wait, hope you are still alive. 😭😭)

Warning: smut

Heavy breathing and wet noises could be heard as we ravaged each other. My hand on his hair pulling hard and the other on his neck pulling him as close as possible. Our clothes strewn across the floor of his hotel room, our bare skin making contact as he holds me up against the wall. His hands supporting my thighs that's wrapped around his waist. His pants hanging dangerously low, showing of his V-line.

"Didn't kn-"

"Stop talking, Cariño, put that mouth to better use."

He interrupted me as he dropped my legs and harshly pushed me to my knees. His pants and boxers are the only thing keeping in little Carlos, although barely.

"Go on, Cariño."

He said as he looked down at me a hand on my chin to force me to look up at him as his thumb played with my bottom lip and going in my mouth.

"Did Charles and Lando have a go with you already?"

He asked in a soft tone as his thumb pressed down on my tounge. I nodded my head, unable to speak.

He grunted as he removed his thumb from my mouth, his hand now holding tight on my hair. His other hand removed his pants and boxers, his cock hit my face as he removed his boxers. My mouth opened on instinct and chased it trying to suck him off.

"I'm in control here, cariño. You get what I give."

He said as he pulled my hair to prevent me from chasing, causing me to release a whimper.

"Keep your mouth open."

I kept my mouth open as he slowly slid his cock in, the tip already hitting my throat, not even half of his cock inside. He kept pushing in, causing tears to well up in my eyes as I looked up at him, his face containing a malicious smile as he bit his lip.

"Go on boy."

At his command I began to suck him off, deepthroating him. Trying to take in as much of him as possible, spit running down my chin as my teary eyes stayed glued to his face. Admiring my work, watching his muscles flex, watching his mouth open and close releasing tiny groans, grunts and whimpers. Hearing how much pleasure I bring him as he moans my name and sings small praises to me.

"you take it so good huh? Such a good boy."

He praised me as he released grunts of his own, his hips moving forward pushing himself further in my mouth. Tears now flowed freely from my eyes down my cheeks and on the ground. I tried to push his hips to give me a breather but he held me down.

"I'm not yet done, Cariño, just a l-little bit m-more, ngh~"

He stuttered out as I felt his head the back of my throat and release his nectar. The thing I was craving for the whole time, tasting him as he pulled out slowly, dropping some on my tounge as he went. He tasted sweet, he tasted nothing like Charles, or Max or Lando. He tasted even more delicious, I was addicted, addicted him, his body, he face, he hair, his sweat the way he moved, the way he tasted. I couldn't describe it properly, he was my ambrosia, my ecstacy, my addiction.

As he slowly pulled out, I couldn't help but be upset, letting out small whines as I tried to keep him in. Sucking more, not wanting him to leave yet.

"Cariño, t-too much, stop, I can give you more in a bit, after the race."

I whined as he pulled my hair back, I stared at his limp cock, dripping with my saliva.

"that's too, long, I need you now, Carlos. Please."

I said as I begged on my knees, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks and dilated pupils.

"I need you, please, you got me addicted to you, I want you. You taste so good, I need you inside me please. I need you."

I repeated like a broken record as I was drunk on him, his smell, his taste everything about him.

"You always got what you wanted, you need to wait, Cariño."

He said as he tucked himself back in his pants and pulling me up.

"I promise, after the race, I'm all yours."

He said as he kissed me one last time before getting his shirt and putting it on.

"I'll be rougher."

He said as he left the room.

———

Carlos got p1 in the race, I look wt him as he celebrated with his team. After a while they settled down, I walked away towards the garage.

"I'm all yours now, Cariño."

I hear a voice with spanish accent say as someone.

"About time, a little more wait and I would've begging Charles to fuck me."

I felt hands wrap around me from behind tightly.

"be careful what you say, boy."

"or what?"

"or this."

He turned me around, and immediately kiss me, i could feel his hunger for more. His teeth biting my bottom lip as his hand wrapped around my neck from the front and pulled me in, his other hand rested on my hip. He continued ravishing my mouth, his tounge caressing mine as his grip on my neck tightened. I released whines and moans, squirming under his hold.

"I won the race, and I need to celebrate. I'll take a shower first, go to my driver's room and wait."

He said through heavy breaths.

"But I love the way you smell, your musk is making hungry for you. I need you, Carlos, please."

I whined as I pulled myself closer to him, looking up at his eyes as my hand wandered to his cap and removed it, putting it on my head.

"Please, Carlos."

I whined.

"you're so needy."

He said leaning down closer ot my face as his hands now went to my ass, squeezing them kneading them. I gave out little moans and exhales as I bit my lip, we continued staring at each other, our eyes dilated and lust evident.

"I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop, I'm going to make my bitch, I will fuck you 'til you scream out and push me away. I will hold you down and make you take everything I give you, you are mine and mine alone tonight, I will use you, I will make you cry, I will make you feel worthless cause you are nothing but my fuck toy. You understand? I won't be kind on you, I will fuck you 'til you're bruised, I will make you regret ever going after me."

He whispered against my ear as he pulled me closer, I can feel him growing in pants as he bit my ear.

"What makes you think I'll regret going after you?"

"You will pass out and I won't stop."

He said as he carried me, he made his way towards his room as I sucked on his neck.

"stop it, I have an interview tomorrow."

He yanked my hair roughly.

"Only I can mark you, you're mine but I'm not yours, understood?"

I nodded.

"Good boy, now prepare youself."

He threw me on his bed as he began undressing himself, I did the same, we are now looking at each other in only our boxers.

"I said prepare yourself."

He walked closer as I removed my boxers.

"Good boy."

He stopped infront of me.

"Go on, get your price, I'm aching in this boxers."

I immediately yanked down his boxers, his cock hitting me again on the face for a second time.

"You know what's next."

He grabbed my hair roughly and lead me towards his cock, I instinctively opened my mouth as I the head hit my lips.

"Good boy, you're trained, aren't you?"

He said as he held me down, tears now began to form in my eyes.

"on the bed now, face down ass up."

He pulled me away and pushed me towards the bed. I followed his command, arching back and resting my face on the pillow.

"Such a good boy, you don't need lube now, do you? You already suck my cock, it's only 8 inches, you can take it you're a big boy, right?"

He said as he positioned himself behind me and grabbing my hair.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you until I'm satisfied."

He said as he leaned closer to my ear, I felt the tip caressing my hole.

"You can take it, right?"

He whispered as he began to suck and kiss my neck, leaving marks. He pushed in right away, all in. I squirmed under him and screamed, he held me down with the arm on my waist as pushed my facae intot he pillow as he continued to suck on my neck.

"Not yet, cariño, don't make a sound just yet."

He began to fuck me immediately, I squirmed and tried to overpower him as I gasped for air as he moved my face to the side. He fucke dme relentlesly, not stopping a beat as we both began to sweat, the sounds of skin slapping and sloppy kissing could be heard.

"Fuck, you're tight."

He panted against my neck.

"M-more."

I whined.

"what do you say?"

"p-p-please."

I felt him smile as he began going faster and harder, I was starting to lose feeling in my legs. After some time he stopped.

"turn around."

I tried to follow his command but I was weak.

"I'm just getting started."

He said with a smirk as he turned me around, not facing him.

"I want to see that pretty face as I destroy you."

He continued his assault our sweaty bodies rubbing against each other. He wrapped himself around me as he continued, he began to bite my neck noe as I scratched his back, my legs around his waist pulling him in, tryinf to stop him. I moaned and whined as he kept grunting with each thrust, I could hear him panting as he continued, not letting my go or take a break. I soon felt him release inside me, I breath a sigh of relief thinking I could finally get a break as he stopped for a moment.

I felt him laugh as his chest rumbled.

"the night is still young, Cariño."

He said as he continued fucking into me, I could still feel him pumping his cum inside me. I tried to push him away as I was overstimulated as I also released the same time as him. He wrapped himself around me again, I could feel my cum mixing with out sweat as he didn't stop. He kept biting my neck and sucking, my cheeks now stained with tears as his relentless assault did not stop. His back not filled with scratch marks, some bleeding as he hissed in pain as I kept scratching him. One of my hands went to his hair as I pulled his head back, he was panting heavily, he supported his weight with his elbows as he dove in for a kiss. It was rough, painful yet delicious, it was a certain kind of pleasure that was perfect for the situation. He bit my bottom lip until it bled, I could taste blood and so can he as he laughed. His tounge entered my mouth and ravaged it, like a king conquering land.

He pulled back, looking at my droopy eyes.

"remember, what I said, earlier, Cariño."

He panted out.

"I'm not stopping."

He whispered to my ear.

"Please, I-I-I can't."

"You can, and you will, slut."

He slapped my face trying to keep me awake, I could feel him again start pumping his nectar into me, without stopping his actions. I went for gis neck, biting and sucking, tasting his salty sweat. He tried to pull me away from him but I relented.

"I have an interview tomorrow, puta."

He swore as he moaned and grunted, I looked back and looked at his face, sweat dripping down his brows to his chin then to my body.

"Y-you're an animal."

I said as I tried to push him again, the feeling of his cock inside me became overwhelming as I could feel my ass begin to swell. I clenched and u clench around his trying to stopped him but to now use. As the pleasure became too much, I could feel him pump his cum into me one last time as I began to pass out.

"It's been months since I've fucked someone, Cariño."

Was the last thing I heard as I passed out.

#x male reader #x reader #y/n #gay #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #f1 x m!reader #f1 x y/n #Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz x reader #Carlos Sainz x male reader #bottom male reader #Carlos Sainz x m!reader #Carlos Sainz x y/n #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x m!reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

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