#i don’t know if i hate the way his hair turned out or not

[aajjks]

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

[fgumi]

i need more loser!heeseung after reading that oh my gosh . yes yes yes yes. #needhim #needthat

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LO$ER = LO♡ER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, headcanon, WC; 2.7k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive (what’s heeseung supposed to do when you’re so hot?), A/N; your wish is my command. i absolutely love loser!heeseung. it's a need. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso @hollyoongs @hoonieyun }

loser!heeseung was excited. so excited. why you may ask? because you agreed to go to anime con with him. you even suggested that the two of you cosplay. you asked to go as lucy and david from cyberpunk edgerunners, something that fit the aesthetic you two had built. so, heeseung checked himself out in the mirror, fumbling with the yellow jacket you sewed for him and fixing the pieces of his hair that fell out.

“baby, i think we’re gonna be late if we don’t head out n—”

you came out in your outfit as you adjusted the belt resting on your hip. heeseung didn’t have any words. you looked… gosh, how could he describe you without being weird? you were beautiful, even on the days you didn’t feel it. but… right now? heeseung felt ashamed to say that he understood all those nasty guys thirsting over cosplayers. holy crap, he hit the lotto. you were a vision.

“hee? do i look weird? i wasn’t sure about the wig either,” you pouted as you touched the long white strand.

“no!” heeseung shouted, then cleared his throat. “you look really good.”

you smiled and walked up to him, checking out the two of you in the mirror. “you also look very handsome. we make a good lucy and david, huh?”

your eyes glanced at heeseung through the mirror and noticed he was still looking at you with his mouth agape. you turned to him and waved your hand in front of his face. “hee?”

as he kept staring at you, you shifted. you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. heeseung gulped. how was he going to keep all those creepy guys away from you? he can’t even fight! he’d have to cover you up! but then he wouldn’t get to look at you in this… this outfit.

you softly planted a kiss on his cheek and that brought him out of his daze. his ears were bright red when he stepped away from you.

“i— uh. um. we— you—” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

a giggle escaped you at his lack of words. you did a little spin for him. man, heeseung couldn’t help his eyes drifting down at the cutouts on your hips and how short your—no! stop objectifying her. bad heeseung. that is your lovely girlfriend, who you love very much and who, for some odd reasons, loves you too.

“hee,” you interrupted, your lashes lowering—wow, you looked ready to eat him. “i thought we were gonna be late?”

you crept up to him, your hand ghosting over his arm. you pressed into him. “i mean, we don’t have to go. i just thought you wanted—”

you didn’t end up going, by the way. your couple’s cosplay never saw the light of day. instead, they were scattered on your bedroom floor.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how to feel when you asked to play d&d with him. while he said yes (because he’d never say no to you), he was admittedly nervous. what if you thought he was a big nerd and wanted to leave him? what if you hated how he dm’d (dungeon master)? well, it was too late now. you guys were on your way to jeongin’s apartment.

contray to heeseung’s overthinking, you were excited. you finally got to experience one of heeseung’s favorite pastimes. you didn’t really understand the whole thing, but you were open to it! you did some late-night research and built your own little character. she was an eladrin sage druid at level 6. heeseung made sure to let you know that you’d be thrown right into the middle of this campaign and that all the other characters were at level 6.

when you guys arrived at the door, jeongin threw it open and you were taken aback. he was in full costume, armor and all. apparently, jeongin was also taken aback. he didn’t think you were actually coming.

“oh! uh, welcome to my apartment, y/n!” he stepped aside to let you and heeseung in. inside, you saw unfamiliar faces who were also in costume. jeongin pulled heeseung aside and whispered. “i didn’t think you were serious when you said that y/n was coming! and where’s your costume?”

heeseung gave him an apologetic look. “dude, i’m sorry. you know i can’t say no to her. and i didn’t want to overwhelm her before we even left the apartment.”

jeongin sighed. “you better still dm the same with the voices and everything. and no preferential treatment!”

heeseung nodded and went to sit by you. you leaned into him and whispered. “i feel incredibly underdressed. did you know they were going to dress up?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “we usually do for every session.”

you pouted and looked him up and down. “i would’ve tried dressing up too if i knew! where’s your costume?”

oh, how heeseung loved you. you didn’t even bat an eye that they were all losers that liked to play dress up on a weekly basis. you were just put out that you weren’t told.

“i didn’t wanna pressure you when it’s your first time,” heeseung said, patting your knee. usually, heeseung would kiss your pout away, but he was in a room full of friends who were very blatantly staring at you.

a throat cleared, drawing heeseung’s attention towards jeongin. in a (poor) scottish accent, jeongin said. “dungeon master, the fellowship awaits ye!”

heeseung nodded and pulled out his notes for the campaign. when you tried to peek, he immediately leaned away, keeping the notebook shut. “the people in the campaign can’t see this,” he said.

understanding, you stopped trying to look. you just pulled out your phone with your character sheet on it. jeongin paused in his seat. “oh, y/n, did you need to build your character first? we can wait for you,” jeongin said in his normal voice.

you shook your head and waved your phone. “i built one in d&d beyond! i came prepared, sort of?”

now, jeongin didn’t have much opinion on you other than that you were heeseung’s really hot girlfriend. but, after seeing how you tried to prepare, he could say that he liked you.

once everyone settled down, heeseung resumed the campaign. it amazed you how he was able to switch between all those voices, acting out the npcs of the quest. the way you were staring at him intently made heeseung unusually nervous.

whenever his eyes shifted over to you, his dialogue faltered for a sec before he continued. he interacted with the others of the campaign before coming to a point in the story where you could hop in. you put on a proper english accent, trying to sound as much like arwen from lord of the rings (you watched it countless times with heeseung). if no one else was in the room right now, heeseung would’ve died from your cuteness. a part of him was geeking out right now. his girlfriend, the love of his life, was playing d&d with him. what did he do in his past life to deserve this?

then came the fights. as he narrated, his friends rolled on their turns, fighting against the monsters that heeseung created. when it came to your turn, you looked a bit out of your depth. you were scrolling through moves in the d&d index to see which ones you could do. everyone was thankfully patient with you.

“i use a 3rd level spell slot and call upon lightning to strike the monster closest to jeongin?” you commanded unsurely.

heeseung leaned over, careful to not expose any notes. “baby, you’re gonna hit jeongin with that spell and you gotta reference his character, not him. that spell has a damage radius of 5 feet. the monster is only 3 feet away from him.”

you deflated as you scrolled through your list of spells. you turned your phone to heeseung, showing him the spell you wanted to use instead. “can i use flame arrows instead?”

heeseung could just die from how cute you were. he shook his head and scrolled through your list and clicked on wind wall. “you can use this one and surround the monster. it’ll take bludgeoning damage once the wall forms, regardless of his strength saving throw.”

you nodded and got back into character. you acted as if you were really putting a wind wall up and commanded more confidently. “i erect a wind wall around the monster and separate him from thralladin.”

heeseung got back to dm’ing and rolled his dice, falling short for a saving throw. he took note of the damage and continued everyone else’s turn. the night was fun! heeseung couldn’t believe how quickly you picked it up or how into it you were. at the end of the night, when everyone was leaving, jeongin pulled him aside again. “dude, y/n’s actually cool.”

pride swelled in heeseung’s chest. you managed to get the okay from his friend, not that it really affected how he felt for you. you two said your goodbyes to jeongin and walked home. you were filled with excitement for the next session. “what kind of clothes should i get for illanaria? i’m thinking white robes with some sheer drapes to add a bit of flair. i really need to study up on my spells so i don’t keep wasting time scrolling through the index. should i also get a notebook?”

just when heeseung didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, you proved him wrong.

loser!heeseung has met your parents, but in passing. however, today was a dinner meant to force—he means give a chance (don’t tell y/n he said that)—him to talk to your parents in length.

“don’t be nervous! my mom’s loved you since high school!”

ya, it’s not your mom he’s worried about. your dad on the other hand? what was he even going to talk about with him? football? heeseung could barely understand the sport. home improvement? he always needed your help to build ikea furniture. there wasn’t much he could do to gain some points with your dad. he just prayed that he wouldn’t hate him too much.

after 4 years (you recently celebrated your anniversary!) of being together, heeseung was finally going to talk to your dad. no more small talk while he waits for you to come down. he was actually going to have to make conversation with your father. if his phone didn’t tell him how cold it was, he’d think it was summer with how he was sweating.

the door swung open to reveal your mom, who looked as jovial and vibrant as ever. “kids! come in, come in. it’s freezing out there. that stupid global warming is really messing with the temperature.”

heeseung greeted her warmly, awkwardly accepting her bear hug while balancing the mac n’ cheese in his right hand. she pulled away and gasped. “you brought your famous mac n’ cheese! y/n’s been raving about this ever since she had it. i can’t wait to try it!”

when she rushed off to set it on the dinner table, your dad appeared with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. he peered up at heeseung, since heeseung was slightly taller, and stared at him for a moment.

“so… you brought mac n’ cheese,” your dad said plainly.

heeseung laughed nervously. “i hope that’s okay?”

when your dad didn’t say anything for a second, you slapped his chest. “dad, stop intimidating him!”

your dad cracked a smile before ruffling your hair. “alright, sweetheart.” he clapped heeseung on the back and grinned. “i love mac n’ cheese! dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself feel at home!”

wow, he was a lot less intimidating than heeseung remembered. he thought back to all those moments in high school and wondered if your dad was just pretending to be stoic. your dad guided him to the dinner table before entering the kitchen again. as he moved around, your mom leaned forward. “so, heeseung, when are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?”

you choked on your water, water spraying out of the side of your mouth. heeseung quickly offered you a napkin and patted you on the back. you wiped your mouth and glared at your mom. “mom, that is not one of the preapproved questions. actually, i explicitly said you and dad can’t bring up anything about marriage.”

your mom tsked and pouted. “honey, you’ve been dating for so long. it’s a natural question.”

before you could protest, your dad brought over the rack of lamb, fresh from the oven. he placed it in the center and took off his gloves, kissing the top of your head afterwards. “your mother is just excited to have a son-in-law that can cook. you talk about him all the time. sue her for being curious.”

you talked about him with your parents? you glared up at your dad. “we haven’t even talked about that yet. i wonder why? oh ya, because we’re still in college!”

your dad raised his arms in surrender. “hey, i asked your mom to marry me when we were 16.”

“to which i said no,” your mom playfully jabbed. “we were far too young.”

“we’re also too young,” you grumbled, leaning into heeseung’s side. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. he hoped your parents didn’t look at him too closely. his blush was probably covering his whole face. he didn’t realize your parents were also high school sweethearts.

“you also rejected dad until you were in college, anyway,” you added, clasping your hand with heeseung’s. ah, so not high school sweethearts.

when your dad settled beside your mom, she patted him on the chest. “he wasn’t always the hunk you see now.”

“okay, that was gross. can we eat now?” you groaned. your dad started making a plate and handed it to your mom. heeseung should also probably do this for you. he pulled away from you and started making your plate, avoiding the deviled eggs and piling on the mac n’ cheese. when he placed it down in front of you, your dad raised his eyebrow. “you still avoiding deviled eggs?”

you brought your plate closer to you, waiting to eat until heeseung had his plate. you stuck your tongue out at your dad. “i don’t when hee makes them.”

your dad looked at heeseung with a surprised look. “you made her eat deviled eggs?”

“i just added miso and switched the regular mayo out for the japanese one,” heeseung sheepishly laughed. “she seemed to enjoy them.”

a boisterous laugh escaped your dad as he leaned his head back. when he caught his breath, he gave heeseung an approving nod. “good on you, man.”

the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and heeseung felt himself relaxing. your dad wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought. they easily bonded over cooking and how the women in their life shouldn’t have to lift their pretty little fingers if they didn’t want to. heeseung felt relieved. your dad seemed to like him, especially after you telling him how much heeseung takes care of you.

by the end of it, your dad was inviting him back over—without you. “you should come over and we can workshop a course menu for the girls.”

heeseung grinned, promising to come back soon. you said your goodbyes and drove home. on the drive, you kissed your intertwined hands. “thanks for doing that.”

heeseung shook his head. “it’s no problem. i’m glad i got to talk to your parents.”

“nothing to worry about, right? they really like you,” you teased. “they even want you to marry me so they can trap you forever.”

heeseung hummed. he’d gladly be “trapped” by your parents if it meant calling you his wife. should he go ring shopping? he didn’t have money for that right now. maybe once he gets his return offer. he could at least scroll on through websites.

“good thing i already do wanna marry you.”

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you can now leave requests!

[niniwritesxo]

nsfw alphabet - nam-gyu (player 124)

(it contains things like degrading, threesomes, and nam-gyu being an asshole tbh, if you aren’t into that i wouldn’t read this x)

saw this on @cybrasigilism ‘s page, you should really check that out ! (love their writing btw)

——————————————————————————

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- sorry to burst your bubble but his aftercare is probably none existent, he might hand you the tv remote afterwards but that’s about it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- 100% his hands, obviously he had to add some rings, because he knows girls like you will go crazy over it. favorite part about you is most likely your boobs or your ass (basic am i right?)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- he for sure has a breeding kink (who said that haha)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- a dirty secret about namgyu is the fact he would to have a trio with thanos and you, the thought of seeing thanos fucking you turns him on more than he would like to admit.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- i think he has had a lot of one night stands, so he knows what he is doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- he loves when you are on top of him, that way he can look at your body all he wants, the way your boobs bounce when he is thrusting into you, how you are so out of breath after a few rounds, he loves it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- i don’t think he is very humorous in bed, he doesn’t even think about making a joke in the moment because he is so focused.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- i don’t think he has a insane bush, but lets just say he isn’t perfectly trimmed either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- he sees you as a fuckbuddy, good for fucking. he isn’t looking for a relationship so he probably isn’t that romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- he looks up your (or your friends insta) and jerks off to your photos.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- i feel like he would love tying you up, seeing how you aren’t able to move while he gets to do whatever he wants. (and knife play ..anyways!)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- definitely in places where you COULD get caught like, fittings rooms & public restrooms.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- praise 1000%

‘Bet you’ve never been fucked like this huh?’ he says out of breath grabbing your chin, at this point it’s almost impossible for you to talk, it’s like he fucked your brains out. You decide to nod.

‘Fucking speak up’ he says glaring at you.

‘n-namgyu please, i need y-you please’ you manage to puff out.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- anal.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- he loves receiving especially when you suck him off. but he is also a munch, he loves going down on you. he could do it for hours.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- he is very rough and fast, it’s almost like hate fucking, nothing sensual about it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- he loves quickies, especially in the games he would find places where he could quickly release his stress onto you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- i think he has tried a lot already but will try all sorts of stuff on you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- depends if he is under the influence of something, if he’s taken something? he could go on for hours on end. if he is sober he’ll probably pass out after a good 40 minutes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- he doesn’t own or use toys, he feels like his hand are good enough to keep you satisfied.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- he is such a tease, you definitely need to wait before you can cum and he’ll make sure you beg for it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- i don’t think he moans, he is more like a grunts guy. i feel like he talks a lot tho. (cursing and degrading you obvi)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- it kinda turns him on when you try to be bossy for once, telling him what to do and what he isn’t aloud to do.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- he has a average body, leaning more towards a dad bod than a jacked up guy tho.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- his sex drive is hiiigh, he always feels horny and is always in for a quickie.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- give him ten minutes and he is gone.

english isn’t my first language so if i made any mistakes, i apologize x

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 12 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇warning: Telemachus is lowkey hormonal in this

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/n was up against the wall. Her lips moving quickly and hungrily against Telemachus’s. Her delicate hands moving up and down his back, pulling him closer and closer. One of his hands was next to her head, the other gently grasped the back of her head.

“Y/n...” Telemacus breathed, his lips not leaving her skin and moving down her jawline to her neck. He heard her-

Telemachus resisted the urge to violently scream and bang his head against the wall. The boy bent down, opening the trapdoor to the tunnel leading to his mother’s room. His thoughts of Y/n only worsened. No matter where he went, she continued to consume his every waking thought. Even while he was about to visit his mother, he was thinking of extremely inappropriate things he should not be thinking of.

Telemachus crawled through the tunnel, cursing himself along the way. He tried to clear any unholy thought from his head and calmly talked to his mother about his day. Ask her about her weaving and discuss how beautiful the weather had been today. And talk about how he wanted to kiss and adore every inch of-

This is bad.

Telemachus gets to the end of the passageway. He takes a deep breath preparing himself fully for the conversation ahead. He unlatched the trapdoor, and crawled through, wiping off his tunic as he stood. He glanced up and saw his mother straightening up her bed, before she saw her son standing there.

“Hello Telemachus,” Penelope sweetly smiled, “Have you had a good day?”

Telemachus held himself back from saying, “It was more than good.” Instead he responded, “Yeah..yeah..it was..pretty good…How was your day?”

“Oh it was perfectly fine. I weaved for a while before I snuck out to the gardens to tend to the lavender..are you quite alright Telemachus?” Penelope tilted her head, glancing at her son. Telemachus was red in the face, his hands slightly shaking. The mention of lavender seemed to only make his turmoil worsen.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Telemachus yelled, burying his face in his hands, “I kissed her.”

“I’m sorry?” His mother asked in a confused manner.

“I did it, mother. I was mad and I cornered her up against the wall. We went back and forth insulting each other and something just-happened..I just kissed her.” The boy explained, running around like someone had cut off his head.

Trying to understand the situation, she moved closer, “Y/n?”

“Y/N!” He shrieked, “And I can’t get her out of my head. She just...lives there now.” He pulled at his hair to show his point, and he groaned in disgust. The prince quickly turned to face his mother.

“But she’s so gorgeous. Her hair and her face and her eyes. It makes me hate her. I really do hate her for it. I shouldn’t be kissing her. She’s the enemy. I know, I know. I don’t know what got in me. I think I’m mentally ill...but how could anyone blame me? How could you have Y/n...Y/n standing in front of you and not kiss her. Everytime I see her I just want to kiss her and wipe the smug grin off her face. But she doesn’t want me. And I don’t want her. This was an accident. A complete mistake. But she didn’t push me away. She would’ve pushed me away if she didn’t like it right? Y/n makes me so sick-” Telemachus was moving around the room, using his arms for emphasis as he frantically paced. He only stopped when his mother’s hand was over his mouth.

“Please be quiet..for one second.” The queen laughed at her son’s panic. Telemachus took a deep breath and his mother took her hand off of his mouth.

“What do I do?” He quietly said, looking down into his mother’s brown eyes. All his mother did was sigh and put her hand on his shoulder.

Penelope’s hand then moved down to his chest where his heart was frantically beating at even the simple thought of Y/n, “Lead with your heart Telemachus..it’s what you do best.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Telemachus lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling as the flickering light of the oil lamp danced across the room. The palace was silent except for the distant murmur of waves crashing against the Ithacan shores. Yet, despite the stillness, his thoughts were anything but calm.

He clenched his jaw and turned onto his side, burying his face in the pillow. Why can’t I stop thinking about it? The memory of Y/N’s lips on his flashed vividly in his mind, soft and sudden and charged with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image to fade.

But it didn’t.

Instead, the memory grew more vivid, and before he could stop himself, his mind wandered to the way she’d felt against him, her hand pressed to his chest, her body so close to his that he could feel her warmth. His thoughts turned darker, imagining things he’d never dare admit aloud. His hands on her waist as he ravaged her, wanting to feel her around his—“No!”— He yelled out, shaking his head violently as if he could physically dislodge the images.

“This is insane,” he muttered to himself, rolling onto his other side. His heart pounded, and he felt his face flush despite being alone. He tried counting sheep, thinking of Odysseus’s great adventures, or reciting the Greek tales in his mind, but nothing worked. His thoughts kept slipping back to her, her smirk, her sharp tongue, her teasing remarks, and now, her kiss.

“Stop it, stop it,” he hissed under his breath, throwing an arm over his face. Yet, the more he tried to fight the images, the stronger they became. He rolled again, this time so forcefully that he lost his balance. With a yelp, he tumbled out of bed and landed on the cold stone floor with a dull thud. For a moment, he just lay there, sprawled on the ground, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. His face was burning, his body restless, and his pride thoroughly bruised. He sat up slowly, rubbing his elbow where he’d knocked it against the floor. “Get a grip, Telemachus,” he said to himself, his voice sharp with self-reproach. “She’s just—she’s Y/N. Antinous’s sister. A thorn in my side. Nothing more. The kiss was nothing more than an accident, and I bet she thinks that too.”

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true.

With a frustrated groan, he climbed back into bed, yanking the blanket over his head as if hiding would somehow banish the thoughts plaguing him.

Sleep, however, continued to elude him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Telemachus paced his room, wringing his hands as his mind waged war against itself. Every logical thought screamed at him to stay put, to push down the chaotic emotions that had been bubbling since the kiss. Yet, the pull of Y/N, her smirk, her sharp tongue, the brief but searing connection they’d shared, was too strong to resist.

Before he could stop himself, he was slipping through the secret passageway, the torch in his hand casting long, flickering shadows against the damp walls. His heart pounded with every step, his breath shallow as he approached the entrance to her room.

He pushed the concealed panel aside quietly, stepping into her dimly lit chamber. She was asleep, her face half buried in her pillow, strands of curly hair splayed out like a halo. For a moment, Telemachus simply stood there, watching her. She seemed so… peaceful, so unlike the sharp tongued tease he argued with daily. But even in sleep, she was Y/N—a force of chaos he couldn’t get out of his mind.

As he took a hesitant step forward, the floor creaked beneath his weight. She stirred, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, her gaze focusing on him in the faint light. “Telemachus?” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. She didn’t seem alarmed this time, more confused than anything. “What are you doing here?”

Telemachus froze, his pulse racing. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. “Don’t tell me you’re here to break another vase,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Her voice held a familiar teasing lilt, but it lacked the sharp edge he was used to. “If you are, I’d recommend actually trying to break it.”

Her casual tone was the final crack in Telemachus’s resolve. He threw his hands up, his voice loud and raw with emotion. “I can’t stop thinking about you!” Her eyes widened, and she sat up fully, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulders.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t do anything without you invading my mind,” he continued, pacing in front of her like a man possessed. “You’ve been driving me insane, Y/N! Ever since that kiss—damn it, ever since before the kiss I’ve been losing my mind!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. “And I know you don’t care. I know you probably think I’m some foolish little prince who doesn’t know what he wants. But I don’t care anymore.” His voice cracked as he stopped in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Just let me kiss you one last time, and then I’ll leave. I swear. Just one more kiss.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the weight of his confession. Y/n stared at him, her expression unreadable, her lips slightly parted as if she didn’t know how to respond. Telemachus, trembling and flushed from his outburst, took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and embarrassment. “I’ll go.”

But even as he turned, he couldn’t bring himself to move another step, waiting—hoping—for her to say something. His shoulders slumped in defeat as the weight of his own confession settled over him. His feet felt like lead, but before he could take another step, he felt a hand grab his wrist.

He froze.

“Telemachus,” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, so unlike the sharp, teasing tone he was used to. Before he could turn to face her, she tugged on his arm, pulling him back toward her. His balance wavered, and before he knew it, her other hand had slid up to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips.

The kiss wasn’t like their first, hurried and impulsive. This one was slower, deeper, and deliberate. It wasn’t just a clash of emotions but an acknowledgment of everything unspoken between them. Telemachus’s breath hitched as he leaned into her, his hands instinctively gripping her waist as if to ground himself. Her touch was firm but not forceful, her lips moving against his in a way that sent his mind spiraling.

When she finally pulled back, just a breath away, her gaze locked onto his. The teasing smirk he’d expected wasn’t there; instead, her eyes were searching, hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. “You’re such an idiot,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Telemachus blinked, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. “I—what?”

“You burst into my room, ranting like a madman,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And then you’re just…going to leave after saying all that?”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“Maybe you don’t know everything, little wolf,” she interrupted, her hand still resting lightly on his neck. They stood there in silence, the air between them heavy and electric. Telemachus opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” she said, her smirk finally returning as she released him and leaned back against her pillows. “You’ll hurt yourself trying to use that little cute brain of yours.”

Telemachus stepped back, dazed and breathless. “I—uh, I should go,” he stammered, his face flushed. He turned toward the secret passage, his legs unsteady. As he reached the hidden door, his foot caught on the edge of her rug, and he stumbled, nearly falling face first into the wall.

She laughed softly behind him. “Try not to trip over yourself next time, wolf.” He straightened, waving a hand awkwardly as he avoided looking back. “I’m fine!” he called over his shoulder, his voice cracking slightly. “Perfectly fine!”

The door slid shut behind him,

Y/n sighed as she lay back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling. The room felt unusually quiet after Telemachus’s abrupt departure, his flustered stammering still echoing faintly in her ears. She brushed her fingers over her lips absentmindedly, her thoughts swirling in a way she wasn’t used to.

Then, the door to the secret passage creaked open again.

She shot up, her eyes narrowing. “Telemachus?”

Sure enough, there he was, standing awkwardly in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face. His hair was even messier than before, and he avoided her gaze as he stepped into the room, shutting the passage behind him. “Are you serious?” she asked, crossing her arms. “What now?”

“I—I couldn’t leave,” he admitted, his voice quiet but earnest. “I don’t want to leave you, Y/N. Not tonight.” Her expression softened, though she quickly masked it with a raised eyebrow. “What, did you forget how to get back to your room? Or are you just this clingy?”

“I’m serious,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to spend another night lying awake, wishing I were here instead.” She opened her mouth to respond, but the raw vulnerability in his eyes stopped her. For all his usual blustering and self-righteousness, he looked…honest. Lost, even.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Then tell me to leave,” he challenged, his voice trembling slightly. “Tell me, and I’ll go.” Her lips parted, but the words didn’t come. She stared at him for a long moment, and then, with a resigned groan, she patted the space next to her on the bed. “Fine. But just this once.”

Telemachus hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest, before he moved to sit beside her. The bed was warm, and y/n’s presence so close made his thoughts swim.

“Lie down,” she instructed, rolling her eyes. “You look like a kicked puppy standing there.” He did as she said, his body stiff and awkward as he stretched out beside her. She reached for a blanket, draping it over both of them before shifting closer, her arm wrapping loosely around him.

“Are you comfortable now, little wolf?” she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation but also something softer. Telemachus nodded, though his face was burning. “Yeah… thanks.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. Y/N’s hand rested on his shoulder, her breathing slow and steady. Telemachus found himself relaxing despite the storm of emotions in his chest. “Don’t make this a habit,” she muttered sleepily, her head resting lightly against his.

“I won’t,” he whispered, though the thought of leaving her side felt impossible now. Moments later, her breathing deepened as she drifted off, her arm tightening slightly around him. Telemachus, still wide awake, allowed himself a small, fleeting smile before finally succumbing to sleep, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @f3r4lfr0gg3r

[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[ally1uvsu]

Way better than drugs. | Choi su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

Summary; Maybe it’s on purpose that Nam-gyu looks too fucking handsome for his own good, maybe it’s involuntary how he’s so touchy with Thanos and can’t keep his hands to himself, or maybe Thanos is just insane for wanting to fuck his closest friend in this hell of a game, while everyone is asleep.

Info; cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, shameless smut, trans!nam-gyu, bottom!nam-gyu, top!thanos, dirty talking, p in v sex, public sex, voyuerism, wet dreams, drugs, hickeys, nam-gyu with a praise kink, name calling, face riding, clit pinching, messy and sloppy kissing, pulling out method.. don’t trust it guys, missionary, petnames, Nam-gyu whimpers and whines idc, tit sucking, Thanos is a thighs guy, overall just real fucking shameless smut, again 😭.

Notes; one of my first smuts without them being bots, I hope y’all like it 🙏 lmk if I need to change/improve anything, ALSO PLS DON’T HATE I’LL ACTUALLY CRY 💀.. AND TELL ME WHY I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE LIKE 9AM.. but it’s fine cuz trust, this is a deleted scene from the show.

Thanos swore he was bound to lose his fucking mind.

No, not because of the games, because of his drugs he could handle them. But because of a certain raven haired man whom Thanos became friends with. At first, Thanos brushed off how he was so touchy, how he always wanted to be near him. But.. it all started during that pentathlon game, when Nam-gyu first took one of his drugs and was cheering for some team, Thanos seriously couldn’t help but admire him. He had beautiful features, his smile was enough to make his heart actually falter as cheesy as it is.

Thanos brushed it off as some sort of adrenaline at the time, but it kept nagging him on even after they went. His gaze was locked onto Nam-gyu, he noticed how he made sweater paws and didn’t like really touching shit with his hands, it was endearing. And Thanos made sure to make a mental note about that- since hell, he’s been making a lot.

Thanos’ own enemy was his mind, he knew it very well. So while eating, his mind wandered around while the little group he formed chatted. It seemed like his subconscious wasn’t happy with normal scenarios of Nam-gyu, without even noticing, his mind began formulating pictures of the other in the dirtiest and yet most breathtaking, positions.

Maybe it’s on purpose that Nam-gyu looks too fucking handsome for his own good, maybe it’s involuntary how he’s so touchy with Thanos and can’t keep his hands to himself, or maybe Thanos is just insane for wanting to fuck his closest friend in this hell of a game, while everyone is asleep. Thanos would be lying if he said it didn’t piss him the fuck off, it was as if Nam-gyu was doing it on purpose, challenging him, daring him to do anything. Nam-gyu was riling Thanos up without even trying or knowing.

But Thanos sadly couldn’t act on it, what would be his excuse if he dragged Nam-gyu to a bathroom? Well, not like he thought the other would question him much over it but still. He would have to deal with his brain creating these scenarios until he got out of this place.

His mind seemed to be nagging him even in his sleep, he tossed and turned without even knowing, meanwhile he was having the dream of his life. Nam-gyu under him, moaning, and then- he woke up. He was fucking pissed, who the hell would be waking him up from such a heavenly dream in the middle of the night?

He groaned as he turned to the side, only to find Nam-gyu with his head looking down to him from his bunk on top. Well, at least it was who he liked. "I can’t sleep." Nam-gyu said and Thanos snorted, he really just needed to go back to that dream. "And what do i have to do with that?"

Nam-gyu sighed, shaking his head. "Give me one more, I can’t sleep for the life of me." Thanos paused, well, he could. But he was saving the drugs for any other rounds or things that could happen later. "I already gave you two today, hell no."

Nam-gyu furrowed his brows, it was true, but one more couldn’t possibly hurt, right? "Please, man. I swear I’ll leave you alone after this." Thanos sighed, but then, an idea clicked on his head the second he heard Nam-gyu grunt and move to push himself back up. "Wait."

Thanos said as he motioned for Nam-gyu to get down, and he heard the soft thud of his feet hitting the floor as he stood in front of Thanos’ bunk. The purple haired man grinned, opening the locket and putting a pill on his tongue. He saw Nam-gyu furrow his brows, again. He found that habit of his weirdly cute.

"Are you going to give it to me or not?" Thanos swore he could feel his heart thudding with excitement. "Come and get it."

Nam-gyu froze, was Thanos serious or just high? "You mean in your?.." he said with evident shock, and Thanos nodded. Nam-gyu scoffed, he needed the stupid pill anyways. "Whatever, fucking idiot." He mumbled as he kneeled down in front of Thanos, going in for a kiss.

Thanos was practically electrified inside when he felt the lips he had been craving so much press against his, he grinned against the other’s lips and pushed the pill that had already been dissolving in his tongue into Nam-gyu’s own, and yet to his surprise, Nam-gyu didn’t break apart the kiss like he expected him to.

Thanos swore he was having another wet dream about Nam-gyu. He wasn’t.

So, who was he to break it first? His hands made quick use of themselves and reached for his hips to pull him closer, having the raven haired one practically sit on one of his thighs, his own spread to sit on his. And Nam-gyu didn’t pull himself away or break the kiss, so Thanos just got a whole confirmation. He felt a hand tangle in his hair, tugging his head back and Thanos groaned as the kiss was broken.

"Asshole, all this work just to kiss me. You really need to get creative." Nam-gyu said, deadpanning. Thanos simply chuckled, not really paying any mind. What really mattered to him was that Nam-gyu kissed him. "I got the kiss, didn’t I?" Thanos said teasingly, and he swore he could see the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks even in the darkness of the room.

But Thanos was too focused on chasing Nam-gyu’s lips to pry any further. He kissed him again, it was messy, sloppy even. But it wasn’t like Thanos could hold himself back, he has been craving it.

Thanos slipped a hand under Nam-gyu’s shirt, and he could feel him shudder. Thanos’ hands were warm, warm and surprisingly comforting over his cold skin. He could feel it caressing his skin, he wanted- no, he needed more. Taking advantage of how he was situated on Thanos’ thigh, Nam-gyu slowly rocked his hips forward, giving himself some friction where he craved the most, making him moan against Thanos’ lips.

The kiss was broken again, this time, he was met with a teasing smirk from Thanos as he tried to catch his breath, panting quietly. "Nam-s-" "It’s Nam-gyu." He interrupted before Thanos could even get his name wrong, this bastard knew his name but still preferred to call him by the wrong fucking name. "Whatever." Was the reply he got, but the silence didn’t last long before he felt a hand in his own hair, tugging his head back. "You’ll have to be real quiet, do whatever you want to shut yourself up."

Nam-gyu would have nodded in another case scenario, but his head was being held back as he felt Thanos’ lips go from his jaw to his neck, biting, fuck, sucking. His lips were so fucking soft, it made Nam-gyu’s mind fog up. He gripped his shoulders as he kept that same pace, grinding against Thanos’ thigh until he lost his patience and began speeding up.

Thanos just let Nam-gyu be, focused on his neck, really. Nam-gyu’s skin was lighter than his, when he pulled back a bit, he found that Nam-gyu was light enough that his skin almost effortlessly got marked, little red circles appearing where he sucked, even if not hard. He would definitely take advantage of this, being the shitty asshole he was.

Thanos took his sweet time to suck two hickeys into Nam-gyu’s neck, until they became purple. A plus was how Nam-gyu’s breath was ragged, how he rubbed himself against his thigh. Thanos’ only question was why wasn’t Nam-gyu hard, did he do something wrong? Both of his hands stilled the other’s hips, earning a whine from it. Thanos’ lips parted, he figured he wanted more of those.

"Asshole, why’d you stop?" Nam-gyu said with a frown, and Thanos wasn’t entirely sure how to put this. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question threw Nam-gyu overboard, of course he did! Jesus, he could feel his underwear stick to his cunt, he could feel it actually fucking throb to the point it hurt just from how badly he wanted it. It took him a bit to realize why Thanos was asking him that, and then his brain finally processed it, he was grinding against Thanos previously. Thanos who didn’t know he’s transgender.

But hell, he needed this. He just crossed his fingers and hoped Thanos wouldn’t judge. A good part of him knew he wouldn’t, for fucks sake he was kissing a guy. But the other small part of him insisted in nagging him.

"I’ll fucking punch you if you mock me for this." Nam-gyu threatened, but the shakiness in his voice when he initially spoke was easily heard, and his words didn’t have his usual confidence and bite to them. "Jeez, you oughta relax, Nam-su." Thanos said as he raised his hands up in the air, and Nam-gyu simply glared at him for that stupid name, but he didn’t have the patience to correct Thanos, not now, anyways.

Nam-gyu took a shuddering sigh, he felt nervous. But he spoke either way, he would need to speak if he wanted this. "I uh.. I’m trans. And I don’t have any surgeries because you know, I’m here for a reason."

Oh.

So that was the reason? Well, at least he knew Nam-gyu didn’t have a boner because of something that didn’t involve arousal, he took it surprisingly well- it was still Nam-gyu, the same Nam-gyu who was infuriatingly handsome. "Oh, okay." Thanos shrugged, and Nam-gyu seemed taken aback, he really didn’t care? "Still want you on my dick." Thanos said bluntly, and Nam-gyu didn’t even have time to blush before another kiss was initiated.

It was the same sloppy kiss from before, except this time, before Nam-gyu could even grind against him, Thanos had him beneath himself with a surprising ease. His hands were halfway down his pants and already onto the waistband of his underwear before Thanos broke the kiss to stare into Nam-gyu’s eyes, a silent ask for consent. Thanos wasn’t an asshole, afterall.

Nam-gyu nodded, sucking in a breath. "Hurry the fuck up.." he mumbled, and he didn’t have to ask for it any further before he felt Thanos’ hand sneak down and past his underwear, one of his fingers tapping his clit, enough to make him shudder.

"Jesus, you’re already so fuckin’ wet, bet you’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?" Thanos mocked, and Nam-gyu only did as much as utter a curse under his breath. Circling the other man’s clit with his thumb as he wasted no time in sliding his ring finger in, pumping it in and out slowly at first with a shit eating grin in his face Nam-gyu chose to ignore, because hell, it felt good.

Thanos couldn’t help but let out a groan himself as he eyed Nam-gyu’s neck, he was so fucking easy to leave marks on, Thanos decided that he should take the most advantage of it as he could. He dove back in, biting and sucking into his neck as he slid another finger, lazily pumping them in and out of his cunt.

"D-dickhead, go fucking faster." Nam-gyu stuttered our slightly, he hated himself for being so fucking needy right now. "Wow, I’m hurt, sweetheart." Thanos said before his fingers picked up the speed, earning moans that were music to his ears, but he couldn’t let anyone else hear them. One, they’d probably get in trouble, two, Nam-gyu’s sweet, sweet noises were for his ears only.

So, using his free hand, he put a palm over Nam-gyu’s mouth so he could moan as much as he could, muffling those sounds enough, at least in Thanos’ brain. He could feel Nam-gyu clench around his digits, hell, if he felt this good around his fingers, imagine around his dick?

Nam-gyu moaned, his mind was foggy and spinning, even. He couldn’t stop his moans, they came our involuntarily because it felt too fucking good. Thanos had long and slim fingers, and he knew how to make him feel extremely good around them. And god, the way his mouth sucked hickeys in all the right fucking spots had him floating to another universe. It had been a while since.. he had done this, not that he really ever had sex, he wasn’t one with a huge sex drive. So it was safe to assume this was the best fuck of his life so far.

"I can feel you fucking clench around my fingers like you don’t ever wanna let me go," Thanos murmured against Nam-gyu’s neck, pulling back to observe his handiwork, purple and red hickeys littered his neck and down to the joint of his neck and shoulders, followed by marks of his teeth. "And you look so handsome around them too, hell, if I had a camera I’d take a picture of you and keep it just so I could stare at your face all scrunched up in pleasure when I jerk off."

Nam-gyu fucking clenched around his fingers hard at his words, he was so fucking close. His words uselessly jumbling up against one another, only distinctive phrases like 'i’m close’ and ‘don’t stop’ could be made out of that mess.

Nam-gyu felt like his brain melted for the time being, everything felt like it was spinning and he couldn’t take his mind off how good Thanos’ fingers felt, and then just as he was about to cum, Thanos stopped.

"Hey!- why the fuck did you stop?!" Nam-gyu whisper yelled as he propped himself up on his elbows, only to be met with the sight of Thanos fucking smirking while he cleaned his fingers with.. his mouth. Nam-gyu’s lips parted, it was an erotic fucking sight, but he was still pissed. "Jeez, relax. Be patient." Thanos said once he got his fingers out of his mouth, kissing Nam-gyu’s lips briefly before trailing down until he reached his shirt. "I wouldn’t let you go without getting a taste."

And then Thanos reached for the hem of Nam-gyu’s shirt, they were both fucking lucky their bunks were right in the very back of the room, and plus, the guards didn’t give two fucks about them fucking, well.. probably didn’t. Again, Nam-gyu nodded and Thanos made quick work of getting his shirt off, kissing his collarbone before mumbling; "You can keep this on, I don’t mind."

“You can take it off.” Nam-gyu said after a few seconds, and neither one of them mentioned too much about it. Nam-gyu let out a sigh as he took off his binder with the help of the other, sighing as he felt his breathing definitely ease. And Thanos also made quick work to get his pants off, tugging them down hastily along with his underwear until they pooled around Nam-gyu’s ankles.

The sight made Thanos’ mouth go fucking dry, even in the dark, he could make out how Nam-gyu looked. He was lean, had a considerable amount of muscle, but what called his attention were his thighs, they looked plush, comfortable. But he decided to take his sweet time with this.

He pressed kisses down to Nam-gyu’s chest, wrapping his lips around a nipple while his thumb rolled the other, the whimpers that fell from Nam-gyu’s mouth only spurring him on.

He trailed kisses until he had his face between Nam-gyu’s thighs, breath fanning over his cunt in a way that had Nam-gyu shuddering. Thanos placed a kiss on one of his inner thighs, biting it softly and earning a whimper. Thanos didn’t take much longer to wrap both of his arms around Nam-gyu’s thighs to keep them apart, burying his face in his cunt.

The taste of his arousal was dizzying, Thanos groaned as he licked a stripe up his slit, eyeing Nam-gyu who clasped both hands over his mouth, shutting his eyes. The taste burst into his mouth, god, it was addicting. He wrapped his mouth around his clit, sucking on it as he let out quiet groans, muffled by the skin. God, he was eating Nam-gyu like he was and had been starving, like he was the best meal he could find out here. And Thanos swore he could do this for fucking hours.

He moved his mouth to his entrance, his thrusting his tongue as he tried his best to keep Nam-gyu still as his hips bucked.

Nam-gyu, meanwhile, was on cloud nine. His mind was hazy, and he felt so fucking good. Thanos’ mouth was on him, his hands were on him. It was addictive, making his brain become putty. The way his thumb pressed and rolled his clit, shit, Nam-gyu was going to lose his shit.

One of his hands tangled into Thanos’ hair, pressing his face closer, hips moving onto their own accord as he rode his face, head thrown back as he felt Thanos double his efforts. "Shit, oh my fucking- yes.. oh fuck," were what could be made out, well, he had long given up on staying quiet, he was just making half assed attempts to stay quiet.

Nam-gyu let his eyes flutter shut as he felt the coil in his belly, head thrown back as he began getting increasingly more sensitive, his moans became more like whines, rising in pitch every time he felt Thanos do any movement, really. "Thanos, fuck, I’m going to cum." Nam-gyu warned, breathless as he did so. And he earned a grunt of approval from him, and then, with one final brush on his clit, he came.

Fuck, he had to hold back a scream just from how intense it all felt. His back arched slightly, his thighs trembled and he still could feel Thanos’ hands on him, holding him as still as he could as his orgasm crashed over him.

Thanos kept up his work as Nam-gyu came, dedicated to catch every single drop, he was addicted to how Nam-gyu tasted. Only when he was sure that Nam-gyu finally came down from his high that Thanos straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning in for another kiss, letting Nam-gyu taste himself in his lips. "You’re so fucking hot" He said, something Nam-gyu couldn’t quite catch because it was in English, but then again he just assumed it was something good.

He pulled back seconds after, a smirk coming to his face, "I might as well keep you, Jesus, you’re so addicting I could eat you like this for hours." He then leaned in to whisper on Nam-gyu’s ear; "I’ll even dare to say, you relax me more than those drugs, could get high while eating you out."

Nam-gyu wasn’t entirely sure on how Thanos could speak so dirtily and also say the sweetest things, but seriously, even if he didn’t know how to reply, he liked it. Both of his hands cupped his cheeks as he pulled him in for another kiss, Nam-gyu was addicted to Thanos’ lips just as he wss to how he tasted.

While at it, Nam-gyu brushed his knee against Thanos’ crotch, or what he assumed to be it. Earning a hiss from Thanos against his lips that he greedily drank. He was definitely hard, that he could tell. Perhaps even painfully so.

"Shit, you’ll maybe me lose my fucking mind, baby." Thanos said as the kiss broke, tugging his sweatpants down along with his boxers. "Kind of the point." Nam-gyu said back, from where he was lying, he could definitely make out how Thanos’ dick looked, and fuck, he was considerably big. "You might as well rip me in half." Nam-gyu mumbled out what was supposed to be an internal thought, and Thanos chuckled. "I’ll make it fit and make you feel good, just relax and keep calm." Again with that stupid English in the, but this time, Nam-gyu caught onto what he had said, something about him staying calm. And Nam-gyu nodded.

Thanos jerked himself once, twice, before rubbing his cock between the slick folds of the other’s cunt, gathering as much lubricant as he could. After coating it in a considerable amount, he rubbed the tip against his entrance and pushed in, and shit, they both saw stars.

Nam-gyu had to hold back a loud moan as he felt Thanos’ tip slide in, instead, a whimper came out. It had been a while since he last took someone, and Thanos was big and had a good girth. He took a deep breath as he bit onto his palm, feeling Thanos slowly slide in. Giving shallow thrusts to bottom out, his groans made his stomach fucking flutter, he could cum from the sounds alone again.

"Holy shit.. you’re so fucking big," he breathed out, closing his eyes. And Thanos opened his own that had been closed.

The sight, albeit obscured, was an erotic one. One that made Thanos’ mouth go dry. He was barely halfway in and Nam-gyu looked completely drunk on his cock, his eyes closed, already sweating with some hair sticking to his face while the rest fell into a small mess on the pillow beneath his head. His neck had vivid hickeys that bloomed there, in different shades. His thighs spread apart and fuck, his pussy weakly fluttering around him as it fought to accommodate him. "I can cum from this fucking sight alone, Jesus Christ, you’re fucking handsome." Thanos said, technically star-struck.

Nam-gyu let out a shuddering sigh, the words of praise made him melt, made him involuntarily clench around Thanos, he liked being praise despite degrading others, and Thanos had noticed, he would definitely use it to his pleasure later.

Nam-gyu only opened his eyes again when he felt his ass press flush against Thanos’ hips, he felt stuffed so full of his dick, he swore he could feel Thanos all the way up in his throat. Not that he was complaining, if anything, he found it fucking hot.

"You’re so fucking tight, how long has it been since you last done this?" Thanos said as he gripped Nam-gyu’s hips, looking at him to see if he could finally move.

"Shit.. I don’t know, maybe five months?" Nam-gyu managed out, nodding at Thanos rather than using his own words. He bit down on his bottom lip as he felt Thanos finally move, slow and deep. A moan would leave his lips every time he thrusted back in, the feeling was nothing short of heavenly.

"Fucking.. oh my fucking god I can feel you all the way up in my guts.. shit!" Nam-gyu moaned, eyes half-lidded, his hands moved to hold firmly onto Thanos’ shoulders, staring into his eyes as the other man let out low groans "fuck, go faster, I’ll lose my fucking mind if you don’t" he nearly begged, shit, as demanding as he sounded, the desperation in his voice was unmistakable.

Thanos gripped Nam-gyu’s thighs firmly, he was sure he would leave marks but who fucking cared? Only Thanos would see those anyways. "You’re so fucking impatient, but who am I to deny such a handsome guy my dick?" Thanos tilted his head before he changed his pace from slow and deep to hard and fast, the sudden change in pace having Nam-gyu’s eyes rolling back, scratching Thanos’ back from pleasure.

"Ah.. fuck, shit! This feels so fuckin’.. good, Than-" he was cut off before he could even say the name, this time, Thanos was the one correcting Nam-gyu. "Su-bong."

Nam-gyu swore he could cum from the tone of voice alone, Thanos’ voice was strained, almost as if he was holding back sounds. Unlike Nam-gyu who had long given up on doing so. He felt Thanos lean against him, mouth pressing open kisses around one of his boobs before wrapping around his nipple one again, pace never faltering for once.

"Shit.. you look so beautiful like this, moaning like you’re being pounded into oblivion, which you are, just so the others can hear you." Thanos murmured, chuckling. "You going to cum on my cock, hm?" And Nam-gyu nodded, clenching around him at the praise.

"Fucking hell- oh, shit.. yes I’ll- mm.. cum on your cock, s-su-bong." Nam-gyu whined, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down the intense feeling that seemed to want to consume him whole.

"Good boy, doing so well for me.. taking me so well, go on, cum on my dick like the handsome man you are." Thanos said as one of his hands reached for Nam-gyu’s clit, rubbing it with two fingers and pinching it.

Nam-gyu was in fucking ecstasy, all he would make out was Thanos, all he could say was Thanos’ name, he was so close- he moaned loudly, muffled by a kiss, a sloppy and wet one, when he felt Thanos pinch his clit and rub it. He was so close to just fucking tipping over the edge.. and then the kiss broke, and Nam-gyu was a moaning mess.

Thanos let out a grunt, head ducked down as he focused on just pounding into the man below him. "Shit.. Nam-gyu, come on, cum on my dick." And Nam-gyu froze when he heard Thanos call him by his name correctly, he wasn’t supposed to feel as aroused as he did, but he couldn’t help himself when he gushed around Thanos’ dick just from having his name said correctly "shit, shitshitshit.. Su-bong, Su-bong I’m-" was what he chanted, calling Thanos’ name as if he was some kind of angel, like he was praying to him.

Nam-gyu was too fucked out to make out anything, head thrown back while Thanos had his free hand over Nam-gyu’s mouth so he wouldn’t wake up everyone. He felt his hips squirm as he wrapped his legs around Thanos’ hips and pulled him impossibly closer, breath knocked out of his lungs as he pulled the other incredibly more deeper.

"Fuck, Nam-gyu, you’ll be the death of me, fucking shit.." Thanos grunted as he felt his orgasm hit, and he pulled out very quickly before anything, cumming over his thighs and stomach. They stayed like that for a bit, panting and trying to catch their breaths and process what the hell had just happened.

Thanos was the first one to recompose himself, and the sight completely mesmerized him. Nam-gyu had his eyes screwed shut, lips parted as he panted. He was sweating, hair stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were visibly very flushed. He had marks all over his neck and shoulders, some on his collarbones and fingers/bite marks on his thighs. His chest was heaving, body slightly twitching, and fuck, he was covered in his cum.

Cum smeared Nam-gyu’s abdomen, his thighs, come cum ran down Nam-gyu’s cunt and then fell on the sheets below, Thanos had never seen a sight so erotic and yet so beautiful at the same time before. And the first words he could manage out after that were;

"Holy fucking shit."

[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (matthew sturniolo)

pt 10

A couple of days had passed and Nick just posted the vlog from our drive around LA. Charlie and I were lounging on the couch, scrolling through our phones. My notifications had been blowing up all day. Every few seconds, a new comment popped up, most of them about the kiss Matt and I had shared in the vlog. The hate comments didn’t faze me—they were ridiculous and honestly kind of entertaining. People had too much time on their hands.

“Oh my God,” Charlie said, leaning over to peek at my phone. “They’re actually mad about a kiss? Like, of all things to care about.”

I shrugged, smirking. “Apparently, I’m public enemy number one. Should I frame this?”

She laughed, but before either of us could say more, my phone started buzzing. Matt’s name flashed on the screen. I answered quickly, putting the call on speaker.

“Hey,” I greeted casually, expecting him to laugh about the comments with me.

“Have you seen my comment section?” His voice was tense, his tone clipped.

I sat up straighter. “Uh, yeah. People are being dumb. Who cares?”

“I care,” he snapped. “It’s not just about you, Y/N. They’re not even saying awful things about me. Its just about how I ‘picked the wrong girl’ or whatever. It’s everywhere.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at me, mouthing, ‘Seriously?’

“Matt, they’re just bitching,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You know none of that matters.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” he shot back. “Your TikTok isn’t flooded with comments about how I ‘deserve better’ or how you’re ‘using me for clout.’ It's pissing me off.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, so what do you want to do? We can’t control what people say.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he spoke again, his tone softer but still firm. “Troll back. Lets just start making whatever we are way more public give them a real reason to be mad.” 

I hesitated, glancing at Charlie, who was already nodding eagerly as if to say, ‘Just do it.’

“Fine,” I said finally. “Let’s do it, I love being a dick online.”

Matt let out a breath, some of the tension easing from his voice. “Deal. I’ll come over later.”

As I hung up, Charlie smirked at me. “Hes gonna make you do porn on tiktok.”

“We havent even fucked,” I said, rolling my eyes. 

“WHAT?” She yelled jumping up sitting straight up “What the fuck was going on the other night than?” 

“He just ate me out and oh my god the hottest thing ever, he was so turned on that started jerking off. Just to eating me out” I said feeling a warmth between my legs rethinking about the night me and Matt shared.

“Wow. Thats really fucking hot, hes inlove with you” Charlie said looking away from me “Im picturing it in my head. I'm jealous” I laughed at her response as we laid back down going back to our phones. 

Later that night, Matt came over, his irritation over the comments still lingering but hidden under his usual calm demeanor. I greeted him at the door, grinning as I waved him inside. "Ready to show the internet who's boss?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "You mean, ready to show the internet that I don’t care, but also kind of care? Yeah, let’s do this."

Charlie, lounging on the couch with her popcorn, chimed in. “Make it iconic, okay? Something that makes the haters cry.”

Scrolling through TikTok, I landed on the “A boy who’s jacked and kind” trend. I turned the screen to Matt. “How about this one? It’s simple, it’s bold, and it’ll get them talking.”

Matt glanced at the screen, then at me, his lips quivering into a smirk. “You really think you can handle me lifting you like that?”

“Please,” I scoffed. “The question is whether you can handle me.”

Charlie snorted from the couch. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

We set up the phone, positioning it on the kitchen counter for the perfect angle. Charlie jumping around on the couch in the back, I stood in front of Matt as the trend’s audio began playing. The line “A boy who’s jacked” came up, and right on cue, Matt’s hands slid to my hips. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted me effortlessly, placing me on his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as I balanced on his shoulder, gripping onto him for support. The audio continued, transitioning to “and kind,” and Matt gave the camera with a playful grin, tapping my leg lightly.

Matt walked over grabbing his phone while I was still on his shoulders, added the caption: “my lady” and hit post.

Charlie shrugged, looking over Matt’s shoulder. “I like my cameo.”

Matt gently lowered me back to the ground, his hands lingering on my waist. “Think that’ll do the trick?”

I leaned into him slightly, grinning. “Oh, it’ll definitely stir the pot. But at least this time, it’s on our terms.”

We flopped onto the couch next to Charlie, refreshing the post to watch the views climb almost instantly. Matt wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer as the first wave of comments rolled in.

As we sat on the couch, watching the likes and comments roll in from Matt’s TikTok, I turned to him with a mischievous grin. “Okay, now it’s my turn. We’re making one for my account.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see,” I teased, grabbing his hand to pull him up. “We need a parking lot for this one.”

Without hesitation, he stood, grabbed his keys, and intertwined his fingers with mine.  I laughed as he practically dragged me to the door, his excitement contagious. 

“BYE LOVERS! Chris and Nick will be here when you get back!” Charlie yelled from the couch.

“Bye baby!” I yelled back to her

By the time we reached the car, I was giggling uncontrollably. “You don’t even know what we’re doing yet.”

“Don’t care,” he said opening the passenger door for me. “You said parking lot, so we’re going to a parking lot.”

The drive was filled with us singing to old songs wed listen to in college. His curiosity clearly bubbling under the surface. “So,” he finally asked, “are you going to clue me in, or do I just wing it when we get there?”

I smirked, looking out the window. “You’ll know when the time comes.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he turned into a small, dimly lit parking lot. “This good enough for your tiktok?”

“Perfect,” I said, hopping out of the car. I grabbed my phone and propped it up against the tire, adjusting the angle until it captured the open space behind us.

Matt leaned against the car, watching me with amused curiosity. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s the move?”

I pulled up the audio and played it for him, explaining as it went. “Okay, so, I start spinning in the frame when the music begins, and then you run in, pick me up, and keep running off-screen.”

He nodded, walking away.

I laughed, hitting record and jogging into position. The audio started, and I spun slowly, my arms outstretched as the music swelled. ‘You better lock your phone-’ Right on cue, Matt dashed into the frame, scooping me up effortlessly. I squealed in surprise as he kept running, the camera capturing the two of us disappearing into the shadows.

When he finally stopped, both of us were laughing uncontrollably. “That was perfect,” I said, catching my breath as he set me down. 

“Obviously,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Now, let’s see it.”

We walked back to the car, reviewing the footage together under the soft glow of the streetlights. The video was exactly what I had imagined.

“You’re posting that, right?” Matt asked, his arm draped casually over my shoulder.

“Absolutely,” I said, uploading the video with the caption: “my future baby daddy.”

As we got back into the car, I glanced over at him, grinning. “You really don’t question anything, do you?”

He shrugged, kissing my forehead. “Not when it comes to you.”

When we got back to the house, the sound of voices and laughter greeted us as we stepped inside. Chris and Nick were now sprawled out on the couch with Charlie, the TV playing in the background.

As soon as I walked in, a wave of excitement hit me. Everything had been going so well lately, and I couldn’t help but feel like life was finally falling into place. “Guys!” I yelled, throwing my arms up in the air. “We should celebrate tonight!”

Nick perked up, looking intrigued. “What are we celebrating exactly?”

“Everything!” I exclaimed. “Life!”

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Yes Y/N! I LOVE CELEBRATING LIFE!” Chris jumped up wrapping his arms around my shoulders behind me as we jumped like school girls.

Nick’s face lit up. “Well, if we’re talking about celebrating, I know Tara Yummy is throwing a party tonight. Should we go?”

Charlie’s eyes widened with excitement. “I’m in! We haven’t been to one of her parties. We've only ever dmed her a few times about a collab”

Matt looked over at me, smirking. “You good with that?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation, “Let’s go, I can tell Chris is gonna match my freak tonight” I said while patting his arm that was hanging on me.

Charlie laughed at me and Chris jumping around, we exchanged a quick glance before I turned, pointing toward the door. “Alright, you three. Go home and get ready.”

Nick groaned but stood up, dragging Matt with him. “Fine, but you better not take forever.”

“No promises!” Charlie called out as the boys headed out, leaving us to start planning our outfits for the night.

The moment the boys left, Charlie and I raced upstairs to start getting ready. The excitement of the night buzzed between us, making us laugh and talk over each other as we dug through our closets for the perfect outfits.

“I’m thinking something bold,” I said, pulling out a burgundy strapless corset top that hugged my figure and showed off just the right amount of cleavage. I paired it with a tight black cloth skirt that barely covered my ass and my black heeled boots. “What do you think?”

Charlie whistled, grinning. “Matt’s going to fuck you infront of everyone.”

I laughed, tossing a pillow at her. “We’re celebrating life, remember? What about you?”

She held up a black crop top with thin straps that fit her perfectly and paired it with a jean mini skirt that showed off her long legs. She added a pair of cute ankle boots. “How’s this?”

“Absolutely stunning,” I said with a grin. 

We got to work on our makeup and hair, After straightening my hair and leaving it sleek and shiny, I turned to Charlie, who was curling her hair into loose waves.

“You’re going to have every guy at that party eating out of your hand,” I teased, spraying her hair with setting spray.

“Please, as long as Chris is that's all I care ‘bout,” she shot back, but her smile was wide.

By the time we finished, we took a couple pictures in the mirror, grinning like excited to finally meet Tara, and get drunk.

“Let’s do this,” I said, grabbing my phone to text the boys to let them know we were almost ready.

“They better not keep us waiting,” Charlie added with a laugh as we headed downstairs, our heels clicking against the floor, excitement building for the night ahead.

Charlie and I were halfway through our second nip of vodka, as we danced around the kitchen. The boys walked in just as I tipped the tiny bottle back, the liquid burning slightly as it slid down my throat.

“Starting without us?” Nick teased. Chris followed close behind, already laughing at the scene.

Matt came in last, his eyes locking on me immediately. I caught the smirk tugging at his lips as he walked over. Just as I was placing the empty nip on the counter, his hands slid around my waist, and one moved down to grab my butt firmly.

I shrieked, startled, and spun my head around to glare at him, but he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s go.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I turned back around, trying to hide my flushed face as I reached for my bag. Charlie wiggled her eyebrows at me but said nothing as she grabbed her purse and slid her phone into it.

“All set?” Chris asked.

“Matt’s driving,” Nick said with a grin. 

“Lucky me,” I said, giving Matt a playful smirk. “That means you can take care of me when I'm hammered.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, gesturing toward the door. “Per usual.”

Charlie and I followed the boys outside, the cool night air hitting our skin as we clicked down the driveway in our heels. Matt opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, adjusting my skirt as he walked around to the driver’s side. Charlie climbed into the back with Chris and Nick, and we were off, heading for Tara’s party.

The car was filled with excitement and music as we drove, everyone hyped for the night ahead. I leaned back in my seat, sneaking a glance at Matt as he drove, his hand gripping the wheel tightly, the other holding my thigh. 

The house was packed with music blasting through the speakers and groups of people talking and laughing in every corner. As we walked in, the energy was electric.

“Y/N! Charlie!” A high-pitched squeal came from across the room, and Tara was practically sprinting toward us. She threw her arms around me first, then Charlie, her excitement contagious. “I was so excited when Nick told me you guys were coming! Finally, I get to meet the infamous Y/N and Charlie. You’re even prettier in person!”

Charlie and I exchanged amused smiles. “You’re so sweet, Tara,” I said, hugging her back.

“Come on,” Tara said, linking her arms with ours. “Let me show you where the drinks are. We’re getting started right now.”

She led us through the crowd, leaving Matt, Nick and Chris to socialize with other people, to a makeshift bar setup on the kitchen counter, complete with every type of alcohol imaginable. Tara wasted no time, grabbing shot glasses and pouring tequila like a pro.

“Let’s go, ladies,” she said, holding up her shot glass.

“Cheers!” we all yelled, clinking glasses before throwing back the first shot.

And then the second.

And then the third.

Before long, Charlie and I were fully committed to a shot-for-shot competition with Tara, each round getting harder to keep up with her.

“Come on, lightweight!” Tara teased as Charlie hesitated before the seventh shot, but I wasn’t about to back down. I threw our shot back, wincing as the burn hit my throat.

By the time an hour had passed, the three of us were absolutely obliterated. Tara was laughing so hard she was leaning on the counter for support, and Charlie and I were clinging to each other to stay upright.

“I love you guys,” Tara slurred, throwing her arms around us. “You’re my favorite people in the world now.”

“You’re my favorite!” Charlie yelled back, equally as drunk, before dissolving into giggles.

I nodded enthusiastically, my head spinning but too far gone to care. “Best friends forever,” I declared, raising my empty shot glass in the air like it was some kind of victory trophy.

The party was in full swing, the music pounding in my chest as I stumbled my way through the crowd, drink still clutched in my hand. My vision blurred slightly, but I was riding a wave of tipsy confidence—until I spotted him.

Matt.

He was leaning casually against the wall, talking to some girl. She was laughing at something he said, leaning in just a little too close. A flash of annoyance surged through me, cutting through the haze of alcohol. My mind betrayed me, flashing back to our college days—Matt fucking girl after girl.

Fueled by jealousy and bad judgment, I stormed across the room, stumbling slightly but determined. “What the hell is this?” I blurted, my voice louder than I intended.

Matt straightened up, his brows furrowing as he looked at me. “Y/N—”

“No, seriously,” I slurred, gesturing wildly at the girl. “What’s happening here?”

The girl blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, I’m gonna go...” she muttered, excusing herself quickly as the tension between Matt and me became palpable.

Matt’s jaw tightened, and before I could say another word, he grabbed my wrist. “We’re not doing this here,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding. He pulled me through the crowd, ignoring my protests, until we were in a quiet, empty room.

He let go of my wrist, closing the door behind us. Turning to face me, his eyes were sharp, his tone clearly pissed. “What the fuck was that, Y/N?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” I shot back, swaying slightly on my feet. “Talking to some random girl like I don’t even exist? What’s the deal, Matt? Back to your old habits?”

His hands went to his temples, rubbing them in frustration. “Are you serious right now? She’s just a friend! And even if she wasn’t, that’s not what this is. You’re drunk and making something out of nothing.”

“I saw the way she was looking at you,” I accused, my voice trembling. “And you weren’t exactly pushing her away.”

He took a step closer, his voice lowering as he leaned in. “Y/N, you’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight. Chill the fuck out.”

As Matt’s words echoed in the small, dimly lit room, I could feel the tension building, the weight of everything from the party to my frustrations pressing down on me. But then, unexpectedly, the alcohol made everything feel lighter.

I giggled, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably from my chest. "I love you," I blurted out, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Matt looked at me, eyebrows raised, clearly taken aback by my sudden shift in mood. "What?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.

I shrugged, the smile on my face turning mischievous despite the still-present anger in my head. "I mean, I do," I said, a silly grin stretching across my face. 

He stood there, speechless for a moment, his eyes searching mine. His lips quirked upward into a small, amused smile as he let out a deep breath. "You’re drunk, Y/N."

"Yeah, I know," I said, still grinning, "but I still love you."

He shook his head, chuckling lightly, before stepping closer. "You're lucky you're cute when you're drunk."

"You still love me, though," I teased,

"Yeah, I do," he admitted, his expression softening. "But let's get you back to the party before you start loving everyone."

I laughed again, “How about you just let me love you..” I pushed Matt back as he stumbled onto the bed.

“y/n don't… you're drunk.” Matt said as I walked towards him, placing myself on his lap.

“Just shut the fuck up Matt and kiss me” 

And when he finally gave me what I wanted, his lips crashing against mine as he moved against me, the world disappeared. There was only Matt—his touch, his voice, his everything. 

Matt’s hands gripped my hips, his hold firm but controlled, as if he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding me. 

His body was flush against mine, every inch of him radiating heat. “Wait till tomorrow,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine, teasing but not giving me the kiss I desperately wanted. “I refuse to fuck you this drunk, y/n. And you are making it oh so hard”

“Shut up,” I whispered, tugging at his hair to start kissing his neck as I grinded my hips into his.

His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder that in this moment, I was his and his alone.

“Get off me before I go against all my morals,” he said, his voice rough and full of promise. “I say full of love and respect.” he moaned out as I perfected my last hickey on him.

“There, I just needed you to shut up so I could show people. You belong to someone” I said as I leaned back looking at my work.

“Good to know.” Matt said as he leaned down, starting his own art peace on my chest. 

Once he was finished he grabbed my hips standing me up. “Lets go baby” He grabbed my hand pulling me towards the door. I stopped in the mirror fixing my hair and seeing Matt's two hickeys, one on each breast. Matt walked over to the mirror inspecting the couple I left trailing down his neck. “God you are so sexy” He said, kissing my cheek as he guided me out to the party. 

As Matt and I stepped back into the party, the loud music and chatter hit me like a wave. The room felt like it was spinning a little, but I held onto Matt's arm for balance. We were just about to make our way back to the group when Chris spotted us from across the room.

He ran over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There you are," he said, stopping in front of us. His eyes flicked between Matt and me before landing on me. "Y/N, I need you bad."

My eyebrows shot up, and Matt's posture immediately tensed beside me, sensing something was off. Chris, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the undercurrent of tension.

"I'm sorry," Chris said with a playful shrug, glancing over at Matt, "No, not like that anymore. I need you as my beer pong partner." He laughed realizing how bad his first sentence sounded.

Matt's grip on my arm tightened, but before I could even ask what he meant, Chris waved a hand dismissively and added with a wink, I couldn't help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a bit. "You scared me for a second there," I joked, shaking my head at Chris.

Matt let out a small laugh too, his shoulders loosening as he realized it was just Chris being his usual, over-the-top self. "Yeah, she’s off-limits for now," Matt said, his tone affectionate but teasing. "But you can have her for beer pong."

Chris grinned and pulled me toward the game, but not before giving Matt a quick look. "Don't worry, I only need her to win this game. And you," he added, glancing at me, "are the best person for the job."

"Let’s do it then," I said, grinning and ready to dive into the chaos of the game, trying to push any lingering doubts aside.

Chris, despite being a bit too drunk to focus, had an energy that was hard to ignore. He bounced on his feet, grinning like a madman as he lined up to take his first shot. “Alright, we got this, Y/N,” he said with way too much confidence, raising his beer.

Across from us, Jake and Tara stood ready, both giving us playful smirks. Tara was already holding her own drink, clearly just as drunk as me, while Jake had a look of determination on his face, obviously eager to win. “You’re going down,” Jake said with a laugh, tossing the ping pong ball up and readying himself to launch it across the table.

Nick and Matt stood off to the side, cheering us on. Nick was practically jumping up and down in excitement, while Matt pushed himself off the wall, going behind me whispering in my ear. "Come on, Baby" 

The game started off slower than I expected, with Chris getting distracted by anything and everything—whether it was a drink on the table or someone else at the party walking by. But even in his drunken state, he was surprisingly good. Tara missed her first few shots, but Jake was still hitting his, making me sweat a little. I had to focus, but thankfully, Chris and I managed to keep our heads in the game.

We took turns, and each time, I felt the tension rise. Tara and Jake had their competitive energy going, but it was clear Chris and I had the upper hand—probably because Tara and Jake were having more fun than they were serious about winning. Chris finally got it together after a few more missed throws, throwing his ball with incredible force and sinking it into one of the last cups.

“Fuck yeah!” Chris shouted, stumbling and almost tipping over. I had to grab him to stop him from falling off balance.

In the final round, it came down to one last shot. Jake was up, and I knew he was going to give it everything he had. He took a deep breath, lined up his shot, and threw the ping pong ball—only for it to bounce off the rim and miss entirely. The room fell silent for a second before Chris and I erupted into cheers.

“We did it!” I yelled, laughing as Chris grabbed me in a half-hug and spun me around. “I can’t believe we won!”

Nick and Matt, who had been watching from the sidelines, immediately started clapping and cheering. “FINALLY!” Nick shouted, high-fiving Chris.

Tara and Jake laughed good-naturedly, though I could tell they were a little disappointed. “Alright, alright, you guys earned it,” Jake said, tossing a playful glare in our direction.

An hour had passed, and the energy of the party was starting to get to me. I could feel the buzz starting to wear off, and I was ready to head home. I looked over at Matt, who was leaning against the wall, talking to Nick. He caught my eye, and I gave him a small nod, silently telling him I was ready to go.

I walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Matt, I think it's time to head home," I said, trying to keep the smile on my face, but feeling the exhaustion from the party creeping in. The lights were too bright, the music a little too loud, and I just wanted to go back to the comfort of my place.

Matt nodded, his hand immediately finding mine. "Alright, let's get out of here," he said, pulling me toward the door. We waved to Tara and a few others as we made our way out of the party and into the cool night air.

Nick, who went to get Chris and Charlie, was already making his way to the car, pulling Chris and Charlie along with him. We all piled into the car, with Matt driving, me in the passenger seat, and the rest of the crew in the back. The ride was mostly quiet, everyone content in their own thoughts after a long night.

As we drove through the city streets, I could feel the tension finally easing. The party was fun, but there was something about heading home with Matt, knowing the night was winding down. I leaned my head against the window, watching the streetlights blur past as we made our way home.

Matt glanced over at me, a small smile on his face. "You good?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling back at him. "Just ready to be alone with you."

We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the sounds of the car and the occasional laugh from the backseat filling the air. The night had been eventful, but now all I wanted was the peace of being home with Matt.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0lliess @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend

[maenoakasuna]

All For Us Part III Part I - Part II

Hello ! It's me, again ! Not gonna Lie, I don't remember the last time i Finished that much part in less than a Week. I'm probably more picky when it come to my french words since it's my first language. I feel like english is easier to express feelings, but at the same time I don't know how to express it the way I like ? It's weird.

Anyway, A good part for more Reader and Thanos moment. Not the best but definatly cute. Nam-Gyu exist and he's a bithc ( I kinda like him for real and love the Thanos-Nam-gyu Duo, please don't kill me )

Anyway enjoy this part. TW : Mention of drug, cheating, Nam-Gyu exist.

Tag : @private-vampire @rafesbunniebby

You woke up the next morning, or maybe some hours later, you weren't really sure how much time you slept, on the sound of the music you heard when you woke up the first time. This annoying music can give you the worst headache. You still felt tired and hungry. The snack you had yesterday wasn’t that much.

You sat up in your bed, realising your felt sweaty and it gross you out. You didn’t remember but you probably had a bad dream last Night. 

Whipping the sweat of your forehead, you remove the hoodie and tie it up around your hips and go place yourself in line to go take breakfast. The head still in the pillow, you never heard the voice from behind, calling your name, but you felt your heart skip out of fear when you felt two arms wrapping you from behind to give you a back hug. 

«-Still ignoring me, princess ? »

Thanos, of course, you should have known better. Only him could do such a thing. You try to remove his arms from around your body, but he strongly sticks to you.

«-Thanos, please. I’m too tired to deal with your childish shit.-Then, don’t. Let me just hug you in silence.»

You sight and put your hands on his arms, ready to block him if he wants to go close to your belly.

«-I’m all sweaty, you shouldn’t touch me like this and i probably smell gross. -I don’t care, baby.»

You grunt, annoyed. Back in the days it would be things you would have felt for or found adorable, but today, everything is way more different.  The pets name, his demonstration of affection in public, that were things you felt for.

Out of nowhere, you felt tears in your eyes. You were about to cry. Having him so close to you like this after what happened, the stress of him discovering the pregnancy, the lac of sleep. You hated everything, especially the hormones. Without all that you could manage to hide your emotions way better. One tear slid on your cheek and you couldn’t hole a snort.

«-Y/N ? »

You could feel Thano's concern in his voice as he turned you around. You quickly wiped his tears and looked away, not able to face him. 

«-Mind your business, I'm fine, you said before he could ask you a thing.»

You quickly turn around and take your lunch before going back to your bed. You could ear Thanos calling your name and following you, but you ignored him, tears still falling from your eyes. It could be so easy if He could just ignore you and at if you were two perfect strangers. Before you put your feet on the first strai to go back to your bed, you felt it was to much to keep inside and you turned around to face Thanos. At this point you didn’t care if he could see you cry, or if the other contestant could ear everything. You were just a hurricane of emotions.

«-Why do you still following me ?! We spent the last two years in a fake relationship, so why could you not fake a little more ? Why are you still trying to get me attention ? Can you just not let me alone ?! Stay away from me !»

The other around ad stop eating and just looked at you and the purple hair rapper. Thanos didn’t care about them. He’s concern was all on you. You could see his expression, it wasn’t the same he normally show in public. The naturally confident and sassy Thanos was not the one you had in front of you Right now, it was more like a sad one.

«-Y/N…»

He get closer to you and gently takes your hand. His eyes were locked on you as he wipped one of your tears.

«-I know I messed up, more than once, but I swear I never faked anything. -Just like you swear you never cheated on me ? -I didn’t ! -Oh fuck You, I saw You ! I saw you in your private room with this girl. You kissed her with such passion that I taught you would fuck her right on the table. -But I didn’t ! »

You go silent just like the others. No one dares to say something or interrupts your couple-ish fight.

Thanos passed his hands on his face, already tired of this discussion before he continued since you had nothing to answer.

«-I was High as fuck and still mad from our fight in the morning. When I arrived at the bar that day, the girl still waited for me in my room. She worked at the bar and said she was a huge fan.»

He paused and took a deep breath.

«-She looked so much like You. That’s why I let myself go, but I never fucked with her. I stopped before.»

You were speechless, for many reasons. The first was because you were shocked he showed this part of him in front of everyone. He never really showed you his vulnerability before. And the other reason was how dumb that guy was. Even if he didn’t fucked her, he still kissed her and that was cheating, at least for you. 

«-Listen, I don’t want to talk more about this, especially here. You cheated, End of the story. Now, leave and let me alone.»

That was where the conversation ended. You go back to your bed to eat, whipping out your tears. When you opened your plate, it was full of rice, some veggies and an egg. It wasn’t that much, but it was enough to make you smile.

Player 222 came to see you and sat down in front of you, placing in your plate half of the egg she had in her plate. You looked at her confused. She only smiled before saying it was good for pregnant women and this part was offered by player 149. It was the old woman with her son who’s the number 007. 

You were thankful to 222 and 149 for this act of kindness, it warmed your heart after what just happened with Thanos.

«-So, Thanos is the father ? Asked 222, looking in his direction.-Yeah… »

You  also looked in Thanos' direction. He was with other people. They all talked but him, he was silent, something who never happened. He’s more the kind of guy who is gonna lead the conversation. Seeing him like this made you doubt for a second, considering forgiving him, telling him the truth about the baby. You remember how warm it was in his arms when he hugged you lately. It would be a lie to say you didn’t miss it.

«-Did he know about it ?-No and I don’t know if I should tell him.»

What if he doesn't have a positive reaction ? Tonight you will vote to go home after the game, but if the majority decide to stay and Thanos refuses you keep the kid, who knows what could happen to you ? If he was willing to push people during the first game, leading them you death, maybe he was crazy enough to push you to your own death and the kid death by the same occasion.

The time for the second game came and you was escorted in another room and asked to form teams of 5 players. So far you stayed with player 222 but you had to go separate way.

«-Since we are both pregnant It will be easier for us if we found a team with mens or less than just one pregnant woman.»

It was her idea, but you agreed. You know nothing about the next game after all. Looking around you, you tried to find someone or a little group who could need one more people. 

You stopped your research when Number 124, Thanos Friends found you. He looked at you up and down with a smile.

«-Still Looking for a Team ? -Definitely not yours, you answered.» 

He let a small laugh escape his lips as he got closer to you.

«-I think our team will be your best chance if you want to keep yourself and the baby alive. »

You looked at Player 124 shocked,  surprised he knew about your pregnancy. Automatically, you cover your belly by fear he could do something to you. Seeing you doing this make him laugh as he take some step back.

«-Relax, I will not lay a finger on you. I’m not that kind of guy. -Have You told Thanos ? -No, not Yet. But if you refuse to be our last team member, maybe the information could slip out of my mouth,  Who know. -How did you know I’m …»

You didn’t dare finish your sentence by fear everyone will hear you.

«-I overhear your conversation with the other pregnant girl. You should be more quiet about it if you don’t want everyone to know. -And you should keep the information for yourself if you don’t want to die. -Are you threatening me ? -No, I’m warning you.»

You and this asshole will definitely not get along really well, that’s for sure. Your eyes were locked on his as his smuggy smile didn’t disappear. He knew what he put you into and he was pleased by that.You don’t even know the guy but if you could crush his skull on the first wall you gonna cross, you would.

«-So you’re in or not ?-Do I really have a choice.-Technically, yeah. That’s up to you.-Oh shut up and lead the way to the other teammates.» 

You followed number 124 in silence. Once you were with the other, Thanos seemed surprised to see his friend with you. On his side, he was with a girl with her bottom lip pierced and a guy who looked shy. It’s not exactly the type of team you thought you would have, especially coming from your ex, but it was still better than no team at all.

«-Nam-Gi ! You actually convinced Y/N to join us. I’m surprised. What have you told her ? -Actually, it’s Nam-gyu..-Yeah whatever. What have you said ? »

Thanos seemed so happy to have you in his team, but you weren't as much as him. You were confused, even. This guy, number 124, Nam-Gyu, wasn’t supposed to overhear the conversation you had with Player 222 and He used it to his advantage to bring you there cause his ‘’ boss ‘’ asked him ?! You felt so defeated. Now how can he manage to explain that to Thanos without saying a word about your pregnancy.

«-Well, she looked for a team and since the time was almost out, she didn’t had many options. Right ? »

He looked at you with this venomous smile of his.

«-Yeah, exactly. Otherwise believe me I wouldn’t be there, you answered.-Welcome in the Thanos Team, the only one who can lead you to the Win.»

Some good old Thanos rap to put a good Vibe in our wanna be team. You cannot help but smile before you are led to another room with the other contestants. This Time, the game seemed more complex than the Red Light Green light. Every team will have feets tight up to one another and are going to walk to different activities. They need to finish every little game before the end of the Five minutes allowed. One of those games was Ddjaki. You were good at that game back in your childhood and you never lost against the recruiter. Everyone agreed to let you do it.

Once everyone had their positions, we watched the other teams and learned from their mistakes. Seeing some of them behind killed in front of you was something you wish you will forget one day. It gives you more anxiety minute after minutes. You gave a look at Thanos and Nam Gyu who didn’t even seem bothered by that, casually talking and swallowing their pills. What a bunch of Junkies…

When it was your Turn, your hands were shaky and you did your best to concentrate to hit easily the other colored paper. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and hit. It turned right away and you could continue. 

The other did well too and you managed to finish inside 5 minutes. The guards removed the locks at your feets and you managed to go back to the main room, still alive. On your way, Nam-gyu walked by your side, hands in his pocket.

«-You will vote to stay Tonight, right ?-Absolutely not. I need to go home. I will not put my life in danger another day»

You were stop by his body who placed itself in front of you.

«-I will make myself more clear then. You will vote to stay Tonight, If you don't want your baby daddy to know about your dirty little secret. -Oh so you are the one who is threatening me, now. -Of course not, I'm warning you. But the choice is yours to take. »

And he continue his was to the main room. You looked at him leaving as you swear inside if you have to play another game, this guy will not survive. He play to much on your nerves. 

Back to your bed, waiting for the others to come back, you taught about what Nam-Gyu said. You never was the kind of girl to submit to something threatening like this and if Thanos have to know about the baby, He will probably understand the reason why you wanted to leave. So your choice will not change ; You will vote to leave.

That’s exactly what you did tonight. The loss of today didn’t change that much, you will not leave this place super rich, but you will find a way. It will be better outside than here, risking your life and your baby’s life. Your mind was also on player 222 who was in the same situation as you. 

After you had voted X , you saw the girl smiled at you and Nam-Gyu on the other side who looked pissed, but you didn’t care, you knew you had made the right choice.

Sadly, the majority of votes goes to O so you will have to stay and play another game Tomorrow. People are really insane, that’s so creepy. 

You managed to left the main room to go to the bathroom, where you found an open space to showed at the back of the room. With your stressful day and your sweaty dreams from last night, how could you say no to that. 

After you had removed your clothes, you opened up the water and let the hot water flow. It felt like a release. You didn’t even taught about washing your body, you just needed to relax more than anything else. Eyes shut, face in the direction of the water, you never heard when someone entered the room, or maybe you didn’t care. 

It becomes more serious when the water stops and your body got pressed against the cold wall. When you opened your eyes, surprised and ready to hit, you were surprised to see Thanos, who seemed angry.

«-Is that true Y/N ?! Is that fucking true ?! »

Your heart started to beat way faster. You had a good idea why he was there. Nam-gyu probably told him about your pregnancy. You knew it will happen but you didn't think about how you would react if you had to have this discussion. Trembling, more cause of the fear and anxiety caused by Thanos' anger you weren't able to place a word.

«-I…Don’t…-Don’t you fucking dare to say you don’t know what I am talking about ! »

He hit the wall next to your head before taking some step back to calm himself. You stayed there, trembling, trying your best to not cry again and hiding your naked body as much as you could. he definitely have seen everything by now but it was still embarrassing.

When he felt more calm, Thanos looked back at you, but his eyes were more on your belly than on you directly.

«-Are you pregnant for real ? Is that the real reason you are here ? »

[lady-lostmind]

NOT SICK!

Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Sick Fic

Rating: T | WC: 856 Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie watches as Steve slowly sniffs and coughs his way through his morning routine and stumbles into the kitchen with a groan. 

Eddie flashes him a bright smile. “Morning. How’re ya feelin’?”

Steve sniffs loudly, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet. “I’m fine.” His voice comes out all garbled from his stuffy nose.

“You sound sick.” He leans forward with his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his hands.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not sick.” He promptly sneezes into the crook of his elbow.

Eddie raises his eyebrows pointedly at him. 

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sick! I have to go to work.”

Steve gets close to Eddie, trying to grab the canister full of tea but Eddie grabs his wrist and pulls him in close. Eddie sticks his hand on Steve’s forehead, ignoring his groan of protest. “Sweetheart, you have a fever.” 

Steve swats his hand away and grabs the tea. “It’s just hot in here.”

Eddie sighs, letting him go and crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t go to work like this. You’ll get all the kids sick.”

Steve slumps, leaning on the counter. “It’s the first day back from break. I can’t miss today!”

Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek and puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I know how much you miss the kids. But you’re sick. And they need time to get a sub so you can’t do your denial dance much longer.” 

Steve sighs, letting Eddie pull him in for a hug. “I’ll call the school.”

Eddie pats his back and nods. “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Steve grumbles again and makes his way back upstairs. While he calls the school, Eddie starts gathering supplies to bring up to their room. Box of tissues, bag of cough drops, nyquil, Steve’s abandoned tea, his book from the living room, and his favorite blanket. He sets everything up on Steve’s bedside table just as he comes in, back in his pajamas.

He huffs in annoyance as he climbs back into bed. “You didn’t have to do all that. I can take care of myself.”

Eddie sighs. “I know you can, baby. But let me help.”

Steve yawns, snuggling down into the bed, his face softening when Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead. “Sorry. I just hate being sick.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

He looks up at Eddie with big, pleading eyes. “Do you have to work today?”

Eddie sighs, putting his hands on his hips. “For a little bit. I have that draft due in a few days.”

Steve pouts. “Can you work in here?”

“I don’t want to keep you up, sweetheart.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll still nap. I promise.”

Eddie sighs. “How about I cuddle with you until you fall asleep, then I’ll go work in my office?” 

Steve nods, flipping the covers over so Eddie can climb beneath them. He scoots in close to Steve, pulling him against his chest. “Go to sleep, baby.”

-

Eddie is hunched over his laptop a few hours later, so close to finishing a scene he just needs to focus a little long–

“Babe?” 

Eddie sighs, quickly finishing the sentence he was in the middle of before making his way down the hall to their room. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Steve shakes his head. “I woke up and you were gone.” 

Eddie smirks at him and walks to the edge of the bed and pushes Steve’s hair out of his face, letting his hand linger on his forehead. “You’re still warm. Did you take anything?”

Steve groans and shakes his head. Eddie sighs and huffs out a laugh. “Of course not.” 

He grabs the cough syrup off the table and pours it in the little cup, holding it out for Steve. 

Steve pouts and looks up at Eddie with big, sad eyes. “I hate that stuff.”

Eddie nods. “I know.” He puts it closer to Steve’s mouth with a pointed look.

Steve sighs but opens his mouth and lets Eddie pour the liquid in as he grimaces and whines about it. Eddie rolls his eyes and sets the cup back on the table. “I’ll go make you some tea.” He leans down and kisses Steve’s temple before turning to leave. 

Steve grabs his wrist and Eddie turns back with a smirk. “What, baby?”

Steve looks up with pleading eyes. “Will you put some honey in it?”

Eddie chuckles. “Of course I can, sweetheart.”Steve grins and rubs his thumb over Eddie’s wrist before turning over and snuggling into the pillows. Eddie heads downstairs and to the kitchen. He grabs a mug from the cupboard, Steve’s favorite tea, and– “Shit.” Eddie stares at the empty spot on the shelf where the honey usually sits. “No fucking honey?” Eddie shakes his head and walks out of the kitchen, down the hall to the closet in the entryway to grab his coat and stuff his feet into his shoes. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs and calls up to Steve. “Be right back, baby!”

[imbadatwrighting]

PAIRINGS: dean winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader, sam winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader

SUMMARY: Sam and Dean don’t take too nicely to someone judging their sister even when she’s pretending to be a fairy.

a/n: i need to start writing more so i get more comfortable with it 😭🙏 i feel like this is honestly crap but I’m trying you guys but anyways thx for requesting anon :)

The Winchester brothers knew they had to pick their battles carefully. They barely got you out of the motel bed, today wasn’t the day to criticize you about your choice in clothing. Not even when they noticed you putting on fairy wings.

Sam only sighed, grabbing your hairbrush and walking over to you. It seemed the excitement of your fairy outfit finally got you energized. Which would be fine if you weren’t bouncing excitedly on the bed. “Stop moving, baby,” he muttered, as he carefully brushed your hair.

It seemed to go in one ear and out the other as you stopped for a max of one minute before bouncing and squirming again. It was a struggle to comb through the nightmare that was your bed hair without causing you any pain but Sam managed to get it done. He started putting your hair into sections like always, planning on braiding your hair just like you always wanted. "No, no," you whined, shaking your head to make him drop the pieces. "Fairies don't braid their hair," you pouted.

"Are you sure, honey?" he asked but as you nodded your head, Sam relented, letting your hair drop and giving you a kiss on the top of your head. "Go wait in the car with Dean; I got to go get ready," Sam murmured.

You giggled as you rushed out of the room, grabbing your frog stuffy and the cassette tape you made yourself. Fairies loved frogs—or at least you thought they did.

It was a little bit of a struggle to get out the door with your fairy wings, but you managed. When you got outside you could see Dean sitting in the driver’s seat listening to some of his music. You scurried over to the impala, hopping in the backseat and holding out your cassette tape.

“Dee, put this in! Please!” you grinned, shaking the tape to get his attention. Dean glanced at the tape before a loud laugh escaped his lips and he gently pushed your arm away. You pouted, leaning forward to put it in yourself.

Dean grabbed your arm within a second, not letting you move it anymore. “Did you suddenly forget the rules, babygirl? Driver picks the music not his little sister.”

“Then pick this!” you nagged, trying to fight against your big brother’s grip with no avail. “I made it myself, you gotta, Dee!”

“No,” Dean hissed, his eyes sharp as he turned to look at you in the backseat. “You’re lucky I’m not making you change out of that ridiculous outfit. I am not putting in that damn cassette tape!”

Immediately, Dean Winchester knew he lost the battle. His eyes softening as your sad frown formed and your eyes got glassy in what seemed like one millisecond. “You don’t like my outfit?” you asked, your voice wobbly.

Dean seemed to pause, internally cursing at himself for making you upset. “Of course I do, sweetheart,” he replied quickly, not sure what to say without sounding like an asshole or liar. With a small sigh, he held out his hand. “Give me the tape,” he muttered.

Your smile overtook your once sad expression and next thing you know you were tossing the cassette tape to your brother. As much as Dean wanted to hate what was going on, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate it too much when you seemed so happy. Instead silently replacing the once rock music your “cooler” music.

“Enya? I didn’t know you liked her,” Sam teased as he opened the impala’s door and sat in the passenger seat, not reacting to the glare Dean sent his way. His green cotton shirt and jeans replaced with a cheap suit matching Dean’s.

“Shut up,” your oldest brother grumbled, starting the impala. The engine hummed loudly as Dean took off from the motel already breaking speed limits ten seconds into the drive.

The house the impala parked in front of almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Not because of the expensive decorations outside the house or the size of it but the fact that as you pulled up you noticed from a small glance they seemed to have a huge backyard. “Do you think they’ll let me play in their backyard?” you asked, already undoing your seatbelt.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Dean shrugged, grabbing his fake FBI badge as Sam handed it to him and stepping out of the car. “Just ask nicely,” Sam added, as he ran a hand over the slight wrinkles of his shirt.

You were nodding along, looking in adoration as you walked up the steps behind your brothers. Your eyes gazing on the small water fountain out front as the door opened. The woman opening the door was young, maybe early twenties at most and definitely not the owner of the house. Not like your brothers cared though, showing off their badges but not without a sly smile from Dean.

“I didn’t know the FBI worked with Tinkerbell to solve crimes nowadays,” the woman voiced as her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrow slightly raised at the fairy wings and flowing dress. You didn’t react to her words, already moving to sit on the swinging chair on the porch as soon as your eyes landed on it.

Dean looked down at his little sister before back up at the woman. “It’s bring your kid to work day,” he smiled albeit awkwardly. The woman seemed to accept that answer, giving you a small glance before opening her door wider, a wordless invite in.

Dean whistled as he started his way in, catching your attention. You stood back up following your brothers inside while humming a short tune and making sure your wings didn’t get stuck on the door.

It was a hassle to get any answers out of the woman as they sat in the living room. She beat around the bush with every question, clearly having no intention to be helpful, and meanwhile you wouldn’t stop mumbling out your tallest brother’s name, trying to get his attention nonstop, while he pretended to take notes as the woman went on a tangent.

“Shush, babygirl,” Dean muttered just loud enough for only you and Sam to hear. His foot giving yours a small tap. You rolled your eyes but didn’t continue, rather leaning back on the couch and grabbing Dean’s hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“Can I go out in your backyard?” you suddenly blurted out as you remembered your previous wish. The woman seemed slightly taken aback but then pursed her lips. “I don’t want you to like mess something up out there, but, um, you could play in the front. Just don’t… touch anything.” Sam couldn’t help but notice the underlying tone behind her overly sweet voice but you seemed too distracted to notice, or care.

You were up and out of the room in seconds, rushing off to let your imagination run wild. Neither Sam nor Dean took much notice in it, just happy you weren’t tripping and scrapping your knees. But the other woman in the room didn’t seem to share the same thoughts as your older brothers, seemingly distracted as Sam and Dean tried to question her about the paranormal activity. “Is she like… special? Because I don’t judge but I really don’t want her messing up the garden, you know?” The woman asked casually, turning her attention back to the boys in front of her.

The tension in the room became suffocating. Dean’s jaw clenched, his patience hanging by a thread, but it was Sam who spoke first. He straightened slightly, his voice sharp and incredulous. “Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged as though she hadn’t just stepped on a live wire. “My daddy says people like her are mentally defici—”

Dean’s boots thumped against the floor as he stood up and closed the space between them in a single, furious step. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word cutting through the air like a knife. His green eyes were alight with anger. “I don’t give a shit what your father says, don’t talk about her like that.”

Sam moved quickly, stepping in front of Dean and pressing a firm hand to his chest. “Agent Smith!” he snapped, his voice a warning. It wasn’t like he wasn’t pissed off by the woman’s behavior, but he’d rather not have the police called on them because Dean couldn’t watch his mouth.

Dean’s gaze didn’t leave the woman, his entire body rigid with barely restrained rage. “You don’t get to talk about her like that,” he spat, his voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to talk about her at all. Do you hear me?”

The woman, clearly startled, stumbled back a step, her face paling. Sam kept his hand on Dean’s chest, though his own anger simmered just below the surface. “We’re done here,” Sam said coldly, his voice steady despite the tension in his frame. He gave Dean a small push back before turning away, not sparing the woman another glance.

Dean didn’t move at first, his fury still radiating off him, but when he heard the barely audible giggle from the front yard, his shoulders sagged just slightly. He pulled away from Sam and turned after handing his keys to Sam to unlock the car door, muttering under his breath as he headed off to get you. “She’s lucky I don’t—”

“Dean,” Sam warned again, his voice softer this time, and Dean let out a huff as he walked out the door. He found you crouched by the garden, your fairy wings slightly askew as you played with a stick and a patch of dirt. Without a word, Dean bent down becoming face to face with you. “C’mon, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “We’re getting out of here.”

You stood up as Dean grabbed your hand, humming slightly as you realized you weren’t playing FBI anymore. You didn’t bother to ask any questions as you silently followed behind your oldest brother. You leaned into his chest, tucking your face into his jacket.

Dean led you to the Impala, even buckling you into the backseat, checking your wings and seatbelt before slamming the door shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Sam slid into the passenger seat, turning his head to give you a weak smile before it dropped as he turned his head forward once again.

The Impala roared to life, and for a few moments, the only sound was the engine and the soft crinkle of your wings as you adjusted yourself in the backseat.

Sam broke the silence first, his voice low but calm. “Dean, you didn’t need to go that far.” Dean’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, but his voice was unwavering. “Yes, I did,” he grumbled.

Sam didn’t argue, and after a beat, Dean’s voice softened as he glanced at the rearview mirror, where you played with your stuffed frog once more. “You good back there, princess?”

You grinned at him, and all of Dean’s earlier worries seemed to go forgotten. “Good, Dee,” you hummed.

Dean’s lips twitched into a small smile as he turned his attention back to the road. Sam leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh, the tension finally easing as the Impala sped down the empty street, leaving the house—and the woman—far behind them.

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

I Have More Rosekiller Fake Dating AU

a continuation of this drabble ( @dairekt-cat there's another)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

They ended up agreeing to all meet at the venue separately and go over the “plan of attack,”  as Barty had very cleverly called it, before going in. Regulus was the only one there when Barty arrived, which served him just fine. He flashed him a grin and a couple finger guns for good measure as he sauntered over, which Regulus promptly rejected with a scowl.

“You can’t be acting like that while we’re in there,” he said the moment Barty was in earshot. So much for friendly greetings.

“‘Hi, Barty. How are you, Barty?” Barty replied loudly, “You look so hot and sexy in that suit, Barty. Did you steal your father’s credit card to buy it?’ Why yes, Reg, I did. Thanks for asking. How are y-”

“Yes, yes, okay I hear you.” Regulus elbowed him hard enough to make Barty stumble back a bit.

Barty was still snickering under his breath as he straightened and scanned their near surroundings. Lots of expensive looking people in expensive looking outfits with expensive looking expressions of passive tolerance slowly filing into the gala venue. No sign of Pandora Rosier or the asshole who insulted his tattoo work last week, which was all well and good as far as Barty was concerned. Might be nice to slip in, swipe some of the fancy booze, and then be able to just dip and leave Regulus to deal with the upper-class as he did best.

“Think your mum will be terribly pissed if you get stood up tonight?” He asked, eyes still flitting over the clusters of people still arriving.

Regulus crossed his arms, “I am not going to be stood up.” He said.

Barty felt his face pinch rather against his own will. It was - he looked at his watch - three minutes until seven. And neither of the Rosier twins were anywhere in sight. Not exactly standup odds, but who was he to deny Regulus his delusions?

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy. But if they don’t show, just know that I’m absolutely gonna-”

Barty needed to study the uncanny accuracy of that ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’ saying. Because not two fucking seconds after the words came out of his moth, who should show up in all their pasty, bleach-blonde glory?

Alright, fine. That was a bit harsh. Pandora Rosier was, admittedly, a rather beautiful young woman. She held herself with confidence and grace, and she had a sort of perpetual soft smile on her face that made you think she knew something you didn’t at all times. She had on a lacy, sage green ball gown type dress that Barty felt like one wouldn’t typically see at 21st century events like this and he nodded appreciatively at her ability to not give a single fuck. Subtly of course. Heaven forbid he appear like he was having positive feelings about anything related to this situation.

And Evan was…Well, sue Barty but he was hot, okay?? In, like, an asshole type of way where you looked at him and it just made you angry cos no one who was that much of a dick should look that good. He had fucking crystals braided into his hair. Who did that? And why did it look so good and bring out the flecks of blue in his eyes so well? Barty wanted to strangle him. Really.

Pandora smiled kindly when the two of them stopped in front of Regulus, and Barty was surprised to watch as she took even one step closer to pull his friend into a hug. He was practically balking when Regulus returned the hug in kind. Asshole. Regulus never hugged him. 

“It’s wonderful to see you, Regulus,” Pandora smiled, then she turned to Barty, “You must be Barty. It’s a pleasure!”

He nodded and took her hand when she offered it, but in less of a handshake way and more of a…she held his hand and squeezed it in a sort of friendly…sisterly way. It was weird, and he didn’t hate it. 

Then he looked past Pandora and his gaze met Evans and...yikes. Lots of personality and warmth in those eyes. Yeesh. The dude looked like he was a thousand miles away and had generic, pre-programmed responses for every possible conversation scenario ready to auto-play when needed. This was going to be fun. He wasn’t particularly inclined to try civility, but he figured if he was gonna be around this bloke all night he might as well at least attempt to be nice.

He put on a smile and stuck out his hand, “So, seems we’re stuck together tonight, eh? Name’s B-”

“I know who you are.” Evan cut in, neither letting him finish nor taking his hand.

‘Well fuck you, too. Asshole.’

“Evan,” Barty heard Pandora hiss.

It was fine. Barty could play this game too.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” He asked, “Had a lot of fun in my chair the other day, huh? Don’t think anyone ever really forgets their first bl-”

“Barty,” it was Regulus’ turn to snap. Barty scowled at him but dropped it. 

“We should go inside,” Pandora suggested, her voice a bit tight, “The gala should be starting soon.”

She tucked her hand into Regulus’ arm and let him lead her through the front doors, leaving Evan still outside with Barty. Eyes narrowed, he gave him a final once-over. Nice suit. Black with deep crimson roses embroidered on the lapels and cuffs. He was pretty sure the cufflinks were roses as well. A bit on the nose all things considered, but it was nicely tailored, clearly expensive, and it did look good on him. 

He made sure Evan noticed the way his eyes fell to the embroidery on his lapels before looking up at him with a smirk, “Hah. Rosie.”

Evan’s reply was immediate, “Do not call me that.”

“I’m gonna call you that.”

“Fuck you.”

Barty grinned, tucking himself dramatically into Evan’s side as they followed after Regulus and Pandora, “Oh you wish, sweetheart. You wish.”

[hayhenna]

"A breath apart" 💔🩵

_a shanks x buggy fic_

-----

It was a quiet night aboard Shanks’ ship, the kind of night where the sea was calm, but the tension between two pirates wasn’t. Buggy sat perched on a crate, twirling a dagger in his hand, while Shanks leaned against the mast, nursing a mug of ale. The silence between them felt fragile, as though a single word could shatter it.

“So,” Shanks began, voice casual but his eyes sharp. “Impel Down. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Buggy scoffed, tossing the dagger into the air and catching it effortlessly. “Oh, yeah, a prison full of sea stone and lunatics? A walk in the park.” He rolled his eyes but avoided Shanks’ gaze.

Shanks frowned, stepping closer. “Did they hurt you?”

The sudden softness in his tone made Buggy flinch. He hated that concern. It made him feel seen in ways he wasn’t ready to handle. “What’s with the interrogation? I got out, didn’t I? No thanks to you, by the way,” Buggy snapped, trying to deflect.

Shanks sighed. “Buggy, I mean it. I want to know if you were okay. Did anyone—”

“Relax, lover boy,” Buggy interrupted with a smirk, his walls shooting back up. “I had good ol’ Mr. 3 by my side. You know, that guy’s not bad. He was there for me the whole time. Clever, resourceful, loyal—”

Shanks’ grip on his mug tightened. “Mr. 3,” he repeated, his tone hardening.

“Yeah!” Buggy leaned in, his grin wicked. He knew exactly what buttons to push. “We made a great team. If it wasn’t for him, I might still be rotting in that place.”

Shanks set his mug down with a loud *clunk.* “If I’d been there, I wouldn’t have let you rot in the first place.”

“Oh, really?” Buggy laughed, but it was hollow. “Well, you weren’t there, were you? Mr. 3 was. He fought for me, stood by me—”

Before Buggy could finish, Shanks crossed the space between them in two strides, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him against the mast. His single hand was strong enough to keep Buggy firmly in place, their faces inches apart.

“If I had been there,” Shanks growled, his voice low and dangerous, “I would’ve torn that place apart. No one would’ve dared lay a finger on you. Not to *you* bugs.”

Buggy’s smirk faltered, his eyes widening for just a moment before narrowing again. He pushed back, but Shanks held firm.

“Well, guess what?” Buggy snapped, his voice sharp, but there was a tremor in it. “You *weren’t* there. I got out without your help. I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.”

Shanks released him abruptly, stepping back like Buggy’s words had physically struck him. The red-haired captain’s expression softened, pain flashing in his eyes. “Buggy...” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly.

Buggy turned away, gripping the edge of the crate he’d been sitting on. “Go ahead, say it. Say you’re sorry. Say you wish you could’ve been there. But it won’t change anything.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of Buggy’s words pressing down on both of them. Shanks stared at his old friend, at the cracks in the bravado Buggy tried so hard to maintain.

“I just... I wish things were different,” Shanks finally said, his voice barely audible.

Buggy didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The look on his face said it all. He wished things were different too. But wishing wasn’t enough.

Shanks took a shaky breath, his hand trembling at his side as he gazed at Buggy’s turned back. He couldn’t let it end like this—not with the hurt lingering between them, choking the air.

“Buggy,” Shanks said softly, stepping closer. Buggy didn’t turn, his fingers gripping the edge of the crate so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Shanks’ voice dropped, filled with something raw and vulnerable. “I’ve missed you. More than I can say.”

Buggy let out a bitter laugh, his head lowering. “Missed me, huh? That’s rich coming from the guy who didn’t even look for me. Just out there sailing the seas, drinking, laughing, living the dream.”

“I didn’t know,” Shanks whispered, his voice pained. He reached out, hesitating before resting his hand lightly on Buggy’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you needed me. But I’m here now.”

Buggy finally turned, his face a storm of emotions—anger, hurt, and something deeper he couldn’t quite hide. “Here now? What do you want me to do with that, Shanks? Applaud you? Forgive you?”

Shanks didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned in, his free hand brushing gently against Buggy’s cheek, tilting his face up. Buggy’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto Shanks’ as their faces drew closer.

“Don’t,” Buggy warned, his voice trembling, but he didn’t pull away.

Shanks didn’t stop. Their foreheads touched, and he closed his eyes, his lips hovering just a breath away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For everything.”

Buggy stood frozen, his heart pounding against his ribs as Shanks pressed closer. He could feel the warmth of Shanks’ breath on his lips, the weight of years of unspoken words between them.

But when Shanks’ lips finally brushed against his, Buggy didn’t respond. He didn’t push him away, but he didn’t move closer either. He just... stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

When Shanks pulled back, his heart shattered at the sight of Buggy’s face. The clown’s lips trembled, his expression twisted with a mix of pain and anger.

“You don’t get to do that,” Buggy said, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you care. Not after everything.”

Shanks took a step back, his single hand falling to his side. His chest ached, his heart heavy as he whispered, “I’ve always cared, Buggy.”

Buggy’s voice was bitter, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Well, maybe you should’ve shown it sooner.”

The two pirates stood there, staring at each other, their hearts in pieces on the floor between them. Neither spoke again, the weight of their shared history and their unspoken feelings too much to bear.

And as Buggy turned away, Shanks could only watch, his chest hollow, knowing he’d lost him all over again.

-----

End 💔

[barsformars]

jealousy

//

g - angst, comfort

p - seonghwa x reader

w.c - 929

t.w - reader is insecure and experiences some retroactive jealousy

a.n - it is tough, and ive been there, but insecurity really hurts both parties so! i try to keep that in mind

//

seonghwa notices the way your gaze on him changes through the few weeks you've been together. you used to look at him in awe, adoration and love but by the next week, the adoration have dimmed and by the following week, the awe have turned into envy. and the envy turned into furrowed eyebrows and heavy eyelids. seonghwa was afraid if he looked any further down he would see the corner of your lips twitch in displeasure. do you not love him anymore? has he become ugly in your eyes already?

"love?"

"yeah?" you replied half-heartedly as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, making a mental note of every flaw you had. worse still, you secretly compared yourself to his exes. it consumed every inch of you and haunted you every waking moment, compelling you to go onto their social media pages, zooming into every detail of them. what made their eyes so beautiful that seonghwa fell in love with them? what made their nose so cute that he wanted his kids to have it too? what made their lips so captivating that he wanted to make them smile all the time?

and why then, you? anyone close to seonghwa knows he has a type. it is one thing to be the ghost of someone else, but it is another to be the complete opposite of what he loves.

seonghwa waits for you to turn around but you don't, still too preoccupied with your thoughts to even give him a second of your time.

“love,” he said it louder this time, snapping you out of your self-hating mind, “can i have your attention please?”

you turn to look at your partner who was already under the blanket, skin all glowy from his night time routine, hair perfectly framing his chiseled face. how effortless. you were so consumed by his appearance that you don’t notice how sadness was gnawing at him.

seonghwa tries hard to phrase the words correctly in his head, because he doesn't want you to start detesting his heart too. but the silence in the room becomes too unbearable and the question escapes him before he could think twice.

"why do you look at me with so much disgust nowadays?"

your eyes widened in surprise. you didn’t realise you were being that transparent.

“i’m sorry, i-i love you…it’s just,” you blurted before quickly stopping. how do you explain yourself without sounding immature and nonsensical?

dejection has completely taken over your lover’s face as he tries to comprehend what you are going through. it’s hard to feel loved when you have turned so cold but as he is, there is always a small matchstick in seonghwa’s heart to keep it warm enough for others. he beckons you over to join him in bed, his arms wide open for you.

maybe it’s the guilt or ego that has you frozen in place, eyes glued to the floor as your brain tries to scramble possible ways to say it without sounding confrontational. but as they say, birds of a feather flock together and you speak your mind as seonghwa did.

“you wish i look like your exes, don’t you?”

seonghwa’s jaw is left agape at your question.

“i know, i know you love me because i’m smart and kind and funny all that yada yada yada,” you quickly followed up with an elaboration with the adjectives he usually described you with, “but my appearance is subpar, right?” you concluded on your own.

seonghwa don’t know who planted these seeds in your head because never once has any of those thoughts crossed his mind. sure, you did look pretty different from his past partners, but that was purely coincidence.

“love, just because my exes look kind of the same does not mean i only appreciate those physical traits,” seonghwa explained.

“of course you would say that,” you retorted, “and besides, you think im way below your league, right?”

seonghwa shook his head immediately, “if i truly thought that, why would i be with you?” at this point, he was already slowly making his way towards you, his indoor slippers shuffling against the wooden floor.

“i don’t know, and i’m perpl-“ as he stood in front of you, seonghwa reached out to cup your face in his slender hands, hushing you. his heart shatters when you shun him, intentionally or not, but he catches you nevertheless. gently lifting your head up to look at you, his shattered heart crumbles even more when a teardrop rolls down your cheek.

“love,” seonghwa calls out to you firmly this time. “why do you have such thoughts? how can i make you feel more loved?” even at moments like this, when you are accusing him on hurtful things, he could let slide and shift the focus on you. and you realise how stupid your thoughts have been.

the tears start gushing down and they don’t stop. “i’m sorry, i love you seonghwa…” he pulls you into his chest and pats your head lovingly. he heaved a sigh as he tries to patch up his own heart too. it really does hurt him to see you like this.

“my love, we all know that there are plenty of very attractive people out there in the world,” seonghwa said when you cooled down a little.

“however, there is a reason why you chose to be with me, and i chose to be with you. it’s not wrong to want to look better, and i appreciate it, but don’t ever doubt my feelings towards and for you.”

[marsborne]

Untold Weight - Pinocchio x f!Reader

After the events that happened at Arche Abbey, Pinocchio is left to think about all that has happened. The thoughts that run around in his head are not very pleasant.

Set after the Rise of P ending

- warnings: sad pino at the beginning

- word count: 1.6k

AU where Antonia lives

It’s been a few days since Pinocchio returned from the Isle of Alchemists with Sophia, and ever since, unease seemed to settle over him like a shadow. He’d shared everything with you—every trial he faced, from his battles against countless enemies to his fight with Laxasia, and even his confrontation with Simon. His silver hair, gleaming softly in the moonlight, a sort of proof of setting Sophia free and her being with him until the very end. She was happy now, radiantly so, and yet…something lingered.

He told you about Geppetto. About the Nameless Puppet. About Carlo. About his own heart.

When he returned, it was you he sought out first.

He found you in the library of Hotel Krat. There were no words, only action. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight, so full of sorrow, it felt like he was holding onto you for dear life, afraid you might slip through his fingers just like his maker.

He didn’t know what to think. His father—his creator, the man he had idolized and obeyed without question, had spoken such hateful words. Yet, he had shed tears for him.

Tears for a monster of a man.

And still, those final words haunted him.

"I’m sorry, son."

They echoed in his mind, turning over and over like the mechanisms in his chest. The more he thought about them, the more he believed they weren’t meant for him at all, but for Carlo.

Everyone at the hotel noticed the shift in him. Some more than others. It was Antonia who noticed first.

She called for him one day. Life at the hotel had started to mend—rooms restored, halls repaired, the echoes of despair replaced by the tentative whispers of hope.

He sat on a stool by the piano in the library, his elbows resting on his knees, his silver hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. Across from him, Antonia sat in her wheelchair, her gaze warm with quiet understanding.

He told her everything.

Antonia, who had loved Geppetto and Carlo so dearly, found her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She had never imagined this of Geppetto, the man she once held in such high esteem. Carlo was gone, but her love for the boy remained steadfast. Yet, in the time she had come to know Pinocchio, her affection for him had grown just as strong. In many ways, she saw him as a son.

But there was another weight Pinocchio carried, one he couldn’t voice so easily.

He worried about what you might think of him now.

His father’s words had cut deep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence them. He was just a puppet. Nothing more.

But oh, if only he could see himself through your eyes.

Antonia saw it too.

“Oh, dear child. That girl holds you so very dear—more than you probably know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how she looks at you, from the very first day you arrived here. I may have been ill, but I wasn’t blind,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Talk to her and see for yourself. She has a pure heart, and she loves you truly. She would never discard you, just because you’re not made of flesh and blood.”

Her words stayed with him, echoing in his mind, until finally, he found the courage to come to your door.

You had been worried sick. For days, he had barely spoken to anyone, least of all you.

When you opened the door, his gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet yours. You could see the weight he carried, feel it in the air between you. You knew what had happened—everyone did. You couldn’t claim to understand his pain. You didn’t, and you never would.

But you had resolved to be there for him, through it all.

He stood before you in his simple white shirt and dark pants, a picture of vulnerability. You stepped closer, your hands reaching up to cradle his freckled cheeks, gently lifting his face so you could meet his eyes.

His eyes shimmered—not with the polished quality of their craftsmanship, but with unshed tears.

“Pino, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It was a silly question. You knew what was wrong.

He said nothing, only wrapped his arms around you. Carefully, always carefully with his Legion arm. He buried his face in your shoulder, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

Your heart ached. You held him close, your fingers threading through his silver hair, offering comfort in the only way you could. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of his mechanisms and the steady beat of his heart. Then, finally, you spoke.

“You are enough.”

He froze. For a moment, even his gears seemed to halt. Slowly, he pulled back, his face a mix of surprise and something else—something raw.

“…What?”

“You are enough, Pinocchio.”

And just like that, he broke.

He kissed you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that felt like a plea and a promise all at once. His hands moved with a careful kind of desperation—one resting on your back, pulling you closer, as if he could fuse you together and never let go. The other found its way into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though seeking solace in their softness.

It was not a kiss of hesitation or doubt—it was everything he couldn’t put into words. His fears, his sorrows, his love for you—all of it poured out in a torrent, raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, you were stunned, caught off guard by the sheer weight of his emotion. But then, like the tide rushing to meet the shore, you responded without hesitation.

Your hands found their place, one on his cheek and the other curling around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of the moment wrapped around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love, every whispered promise, and every silent vow into the connection between you.

His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you felt a soft, shaky sigh escape him. The hand in your hair tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing against your temple in a touch so reverent it made your heart ache.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him—the faint metallic tang of his scent, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic ticking of his mechanisms mingling with the steady beat of his heart. It was a symphony of contrasts, both human and mechanic, and it was him.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn’t from a lack of desire but the need for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his silver hair falling between you like a shimmering curtain. His breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other, his glossy eyes searching yours as if trying to confirm that this was real, that you were here, and that you loved him as fiercely as he loved you.

And you did.

Without a word, your thumb brushed against his freckled cheek, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and in that instant, you knew. No matter the hardships you faced, no matter the doubts that plagued him, you would face them by his side.

---

An hour later, you lay together on your bed. Pinocchio rested his head on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your torso. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was his anchor, grounding him in a world that often felt too overwhelming.

Your fingers played idly with strands of his silver hair, curling them around your fingertips as you stared at the ceiling.

For Pinocchio, this moment felt like heaven.

The thought came to him suddenly, yet it rooted itself deeply.

He thought of Julian, the gentleman who had entrusted him with his wife’s most cherished possession. Their wedding ring. His owrds rang in his head.

"Please remember the love Melody and I shared. Who knows? Maybe you'll find true love one day, too."

He thought of Polendina and the love he so clearly felt for Antonia—a love so pure and steadfast it seemed to transcend everything.

And then, he thought of you.

He adored you. Completely and utterly.

“I want to marry you,” he said, breaking the silence.

Your fingers stilled. Your heart skipped a beat, and he felt it beneath his ear.

“I…what?”

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

Now he lifted his head, propping himself up on his arms. His silver hair framed his face, strands brushing your cheeks like a veil between you and the rest of the world. Your face burned crimson, and he chuckled softly, a flicker of mischief breaking through his seriousness.

“You’re not…proposing to me right now, are you?”

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face as he began to sit up. But before he could pull away, you grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead and tucking a few silver strands behind his ear.

“I’m not complaining,” you said with a soft smile. “And I want you to be my husband as well”

For a moment, he looked as though he might short circuit entirely.

Little did you know, the residents of Hotel Krat had already begun planning your wedding long before either of you realized you wanted one.

Heyy so school started and I'm not okay with that

Anyways I finished ng+ and immediately started ng+2 and my brain slapped me with this idea

I put my whole nervous system and brain power into that kissing scene I hope it's alright-

Also that ending was so random I felt the need to add that

[legalmente-loca]

The Witch Was Called

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Witch!Female Reader

Summary: You are a witch hunted by other witches. What is the reason? You don't know yet. But you will turn to the Winchesters for help and along the way the legend will become true.

The Witch Was Called Masterlist

Word Count: 642

Tags/Warnings: none

Prologue:

What is love?

Is it something you feel? Something you see? Both? Neither? Is there really anything we can be sure of about love other than theories? Is it something you can be sure of?

The loves you've been through are part of your life. It doesn't matter if it lasted a flash or years, it's already part of you, like a scar.

It doesn't have to be painful, it can be beautiful or even hopeful. It can be the hope you needed or the push that was enough to destroy you.

And yes, love can hurt, but it can also be wonderful. You have to risk being vulnerable in order to experience it. We all know there are falls, but there would be no getting up without them.

What comes after a bad love? Surrender? Hopelessness? No, it just keeps trying again.

Like the brothers, who no longer knew which path to follow, but they didn't give up yet. You were the only one, in fact. In all these crimes you appeared as a ghost in photographs or in witness accounts; a mysterious girl in her twenties who disappeared like a shadow after the body was found. They had even started calling you that, The Shadow. You were their only connection. But they couldn't find you or even find out anything about you. Who were you? Had you killed all these people? What could your reasons be?

“I’m telling you, Sammy, we don’t have anything on this girl.” Dean said as he opened a beer and sat down. “And at the rate we’re going, I doubt we’ll find anything. Whoever it is, damn she’s good at covering her tracks.”

“We have to find something or people will keep dying, Dean.”

Maybe there’s something you want, something you’re looking for. Maybe it’s not the people you kill, maybe something they possess.

“We’re not even sure it was her.”

“Yeah, well, they all died suspiciously and we found spell bags with most of the victims.”

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine and he shook himself.

“God, witches, how I hate them.” He muttered before taking another sip from his bottle.

“If this girl is a witch, it would explain how she disappears from crime scenes before the police get there.”

What if it was revenge? Finding the people who hurt you and killing them with witchcraft. It wasn't a bad theory, but then, what kind of revenge would it be? Neither victim had anything in common with each other and they hadn't found any connection between you and them. Well, they hadn't found anything about you in general.

“So, we’re looking for a possible witch around our age who might kill for reasons we don’t know yet.” He snorted. “Awesome.”

Sam sighed. They didn’t have much on the case, just you. A girl they didn’t know and didn’t seem to have any interest in stopping or confronting them.

You were a mystery, a code they needed to solve. Maybe the answer was in your gaze, in the shape of your eyes. Or maybe in your hair. Maybe you were just some random girl with no life or personal things who seemed to be everywhere by chance. Whatever the answer was, you were an enigma to Sam and Dean.

A knock on the door came and the two brothers exchanged glances, but Dean was the first to get up and head to the door. He gave Sam one last look before opening it.

There you were, that mystery dressed in a cape, the hood covering your face until you raised your head. Your gaze carefully observed his face, perhaps wondering who was that man who seemed to be following your trail. Wondering the same thing they were; Who were they? What were they looking for? What were their reasons?

“Were you looking for me?”

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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