#i don’t want to be mean. i really don’t. but as Soon as i get overwhelmed that goes flying out the fucking window

[americanwhores]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[soleilapproves]

you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.

Notes: gender neutral reader

masterlist (tumblr isn’t letting me paste the link </3)

It all started on a Monday morning.

You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.

You’ve been waiting for him to explicitly say how he feels but he’s chickened out way too many times. So as revenge, you played mind games with him. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t satisfying to see his shocked expression.

“Satoru, before you leave-“ you skipped to him before he could grab the door handle, and grabbed his arm to turn him towards you.

“-don’t forget this.” You pulled his tie down and kissed his forehead.

The white haired man’s eyebrows reached high enough to almost touch his hairline. “Wha-“

You pushed him out before he could utter another word. “Bye, you’ll be late!”

Soon after that fateful morning, you’d kiss his forehead before work. It became so ingrained in both your routines that he’d simply walk up to you while you were making breakfast and you’d slip him a quick peck.

You almost conditioned yourself to it too. Whenever Satoru would move his hair away from his forehead, your mind would automatically make you lean in towards him. It confused him the first couple times you did it and then you caught yourself on after that. You were the one playing mind games. Not him.

It had been three weeks of giving him forehead kisses when you decided to stop the action.

Your morning started the same way as it always did- you woke up, showered, made your coffee, and then sat down to eat your breakfast. However, it was the opposite for Satoru. He had slept late the night before and woke up with only fifteen minutes to get ready so to say that the apartment looked like it was hit by a hurricane was an understatement.

You saw a flash of white go towards the fridge as you calmly stirred the berries in your oatmeal. “Huh, I was wondering if you had taken the day off.”

“I didn’t. Manager Yaga gave me some intern’s report last minute and I had to correct the whole thing. I was up until three am.” You felt bad over how he was rushing to spread jam on his toast so you pulled out a tumbler and began to prepare his coffee as he liked it (so sweet that a hypoglycemic person could be cured).

You could see the effects of sleep deprivation on him- tie crooked, bag half-zipped, shirt tucked out of his slacks and of course, crumbs of bread all of his face. The man looked like a walking mess.

You walked him to the door, handing his tumbler over to him and muttering a small ‘goodbye’ as he shoved his feet in his black leather loafers.

You were about to close the door on him when he stopped you. “Did you forget something?” You innocently asked as you leaned your head to the side while folding your arms.

“No, you did.” He haphazardly moved his hair away from the center of his forehead and pointed at it.

“Why are you doing that?” You wanted to laugh at him so bad but you pinched your arm to prevent it. “What do you mean? You always kiss my forehead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes, I’m way too used to it!” You almost jolted at his urgency. The man was clearly yearning for a forehead kiss.

“But why? It’s weird- only couples do something like that. I don’t know why I did it in the first place.”

“Wow, NOW you care if it’s something couples do?”

Gojo sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “Look, I’m really late right now and I don’t have time to explain myself. All I’m gonna say is this- you, me, date at seven tonight. And you best believe I won’t be late for that. Now give me my kiss.”

Your face was flushed after his sudden boldness and you quickly leaned in to press your lips against his sweaty forehead (you had worked him up with your little prank). “I’ll be waiting.” You grinned.

And he had walked right into your trap.

Gojo scoffed at you before closing the door with a small slam. You began jumping as soon as he was out of your vision but your celebration was soon stopped when the door opened

“What now?” You groaned.

The man simply pulled you towards him by your elbow and left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “This.”

—

Trust me when I say that playing mind games like this is a lot of fun. My ex situationship can’t listen to Childish Gambino without thinking of me 🙏

[waynes-multiverse]

Hi, I first wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your work, I’m constantly rereading your fics and they have really helped me escape from my busy Uni schedule. I was hoping you could write some smutty head canons about dean, no pressure ofc. I hope you enjoy your day and thank you for taking the time to create and post fics for people like me who need a way to escape their hectic lives.💕

Aww, thank you so much, lovely! I gladly support the escapism 🥰

Sorry this took me so long! I was on a bit of a break there, but I was so excited to get into this. God knows I have so many headcanons 😆

Hope you’re doing well and hope you enjoy this 🤍

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 for some smutty content (duh)

Main Masterlist || Tag List

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean

Dean is very hands-on, which means he’ll touch you whenever he can, even if it’s just a hand on the small of your back while you’re pumping gas or walking into a bar.

This also means he takes PDA to a whole new level. He teases you under the table when you’re doing research in the library or eating in the kitchen. He weaves his arms around you when you’re doing dishes. He trails kisses down your neck while you’re cooking.

Especially while you’re cooking. Something about food just turns him on. So much so that every once in a while he stands in front of your door with some whipped cream, chocolate sauce, a cute wiggle of his eyebrows, and a giant grin, begging you to be his dessert.

Sam is mostly annoyed by his brother’s indiscretions, though. Too many times (almost every damn day) Dean has walked into the kitchen in nothing but his gray robe and announced his morning wood to you, not seeing Sam sitting in the corner. That’s when Sam usually folds his paper, takes his coffee, and hurries to the library before Dean’s hands find their way to your body once more.

Sam suffers the most, however, if there’s only one motel room available and the three of you have to share. Dean has zero self-control (and also doesn’t care what Sam sees or doesn’t see). While he cuddles you, he holds you so close to his body that it’s hard to breathe. And again, hands and lips – they wander. Constantly. The man doesn’t possess an off-switch.

It got so bad that Sam has established a rule that the two of you are not allowed to share a bed anymore and Dean has to take the couch for the night. But as soon as his little brother has dozed off, he crawls right back into the warm comfort of your bed.

Speaking of rules, Dean loves breaking them. If there’s a sign that says “Do not enter,” you can be sure as hell he’ll shove you in there and will enter you. For Dean, there’s no such thing as bad timing or an inappropriate place. He even breaks rules that don’t exist and are just common sense like, “Do not have sex in a museum while you’re breaking into said museum.”

And while he loves breaking rules, he also loves following them. Especially when it’s “sexy rules.” He loves when you playfully push him around, when you shove him backwards onto the mattress and tell him what to do. He will smirk at you giddily all the way through and be the best damn boy you’ve ever seen.

Overall, he’s curious about your fantasies and constantly asks you want you want to do. He enjoys it when you take the lead in the bedroom and loves to see what you come up with. He loves being underneath you and watch you ride him with his bottom lip tugged behind his teeth. It barely hides his huge grin. He loves to see your tits bounce from this angle. According to him, it’s the best goddamn view in the world – forget the Grand Canyon.

However, when he’s had a bad day or a rough hunt, he actually likes to be in charge. It all depends on his mood. But taking control of you helps him cope with the things he can’t control in this world. So whenever he comes home with tense shoulders and a tightly creased brow, you know you’re in for a treat.

When he orders you around with his deep voice and sharp tone, you melt into a puddle and only all too happily oblige to his every command. Your legs grow weak when he dominates you with just a look. God, he loves the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, loves how you moan his name when you’re on all fours in front of him, and loves how your lips feel around his cock when you suck him off.

You love to give him comfort in whatever form he pleases. And Dean loves that you trust him with all your heart – and he knows to never betray it. He will always respect your limits, even though he gently pokes them sometimes, testing how far he actually can go.

Sometimes he bends rules like he bends you.

And truth is, he can go pretty fucking far. There’s not much you won’t let this man do. His dirty mouth can convince you to do all kinds of things – things you would for sure refuse if anyone else was asking. But it’s Dean, and one look of his sparkling green eyes will have you on your knees for him.

But honestly, Dean is the same kind of whipped for you, too. He will do anything for you, short of moving actual mountains. Massages, hot baths, ice cream at midnight? He’s got you covered and doesn’t expect anything in return, except for your unconditional love. He’s got it either way, but you do have to reassure him sometimes.

Dean’s a giver, not a taker, so you do have to force him sometimes to ask for the things he wants. But boy, when he gives, he goddamn gives with both of his massive hands. After he’s done with you, there’s not a single inch of skin left on your body that hasn’t been worshipped. You always come first – literally.

Dean takes pride in making you cum, and it doesn’t matter with which body part of his he does it. They are all equally skilled – his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his dick. He eats you out and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, because you both know in a life full of monsters, there actually might not be one. He makes every night and every day count.

Then, there’s his mouth. It should be no surprise, but it’s goddamn filthy. He could make you come with words alone, and not rarely, he sure likes to try. A lot of times it’s stuff you haven’t even heard, dreamed, or thought about until Dean’s said it and put it in your goddamn head.

And yes, Dean’s very sexual and a great lover through and through. He enjoys sex, but most of all, he enjoys going to sleep and waking up next to you. He loves cuddling with you on the couch during a movie, he loves holding you close at night, and he loves that special moment when you’re both coming down from your highs and are still connected, bathing in the afterglow.

Dean has been so touch-starved all his life that he enjoys the little things. He loves when your fingernails caress his back and massage his scalp. He loves using you as his freaking pillow. At this point, you’ve learned not to drink too much water before bed, because you know you won’t be able to escape his prison of strong arms – not that you’d ever want to (unless you really do have to pee).

I honestly could've went on and on and on with this one... 😂

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[covenofagatha]

Mistakes have been made this afternoon. I have had sake and no food, so fuck it, I'm going to be brave. Agatha/reader, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, degradation, praise, and breeding kink if you are still taking requests.

Of course! And to everyone else who requested a fic, they should hopefully be up soon!

A gala to remember

You're feeling a little neglected by your girlfriend so you take advantage of her unfounded jealousy while at a work event for her

Word count: 2400

Warnings: literally pure filth, semi-public sex, girl penis Agatha, cum, creampie, blowjob, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, breeding kink, I think that's it

There’s not enough appetizers at the fancy annual gala for the company your girlfriend works at to make you stop being mad at said girlfriend. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to try though. 

You’re on your second shrimp cocktail when Agatha comes over to where you’re standing and tightly grabs your arm. 

“Come over here. And put that down,” she hisses in your ear and drags you across the room. You yank your elbow out of her grasp and deliberately pretend that you don’t see her scowl at you. 

It has been a week since the two of you have had sex. You can’t blame Agatha, work for her is really busy this time of the year, but she has come home late every single night since Monday and you’ve barely seen her. 

She had been promising all week that on Friday night – tonight – she would be home early and the two of you would make up for lost time. You had even gone out and bought some new lingerie. You missed the feeling of Agatha’s cock inside you and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week. 

Until Thursday morning, before she had rushed out of the house, she had told you that she was expected at the company’s gala the next night and she wanted you to come with her. 

Normally, you wouldn’t mind attending a work event with your girlfriend, but a lot of feelings had become pent up over the week and there was also the fact that she had given you a day’s notice on cancelling the plans she had made. 

So yeah, you were being a bit of a brat. 

And Agatha was fully aware of that, and wasn’t having any of it. 

“You need to behave,” she whispers before the two of you approach a group of co-workers. 

“Or what?” You scoff sardonically. “Not going to fuck me for another week?” 

“Watch me,” she shoots back. And then she plasters on a fake smile. “Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” She introduces you to everyone, three men and two women. You politely shake their hands, barely even looking at them, until you get to the last woman, Rio. 

She’s a little younger than Agatha, her pale skin contrasts beautifully with her golden-brown eyes. She’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, like Agatha, and there’s something about her intense energy that seems to draw you in. 

Speaking of Agatha, she must notice how you’re staring at Rio because she clears her throat and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Oh, that reminds us, Agatha,” one of the men booms. They’ve been talking about something for the past few minutes but you’ve been zoning out, bored almost to tears. “We need to borrow you for a few seconds upstairs. There’s a contract we need you to look over.” 

Agatha squeezes your waist and you shoot her a pleading look but she’s already leaving with two of the guys. The group disbands and you awkwardly go find an empty table to stand at and eat more shrimp.

Great. Now you’re mad, miserable, and alone. 

Except, maybe not all alone. 

Rio saunters up to the table, holding two glasses of champagne. She hands one to you and silently toasts. You take a sip. 

“Big fan of these parties?” You ask, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled over your table. She shrugs noncommittally.

 “They’re good for the company,” she says. “I don’t particularly enjoy parties.” 

You raise your glass to that. “Join the club. I’m only here because Agatha made me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be speaking ill of your girlfriend to her co-worker but you kind of want to vent to someone. 

Rio rests her head on her elbows and her eyes widen. “Agatha Harkness’s girlfriend. What is that like? Is she as much of a boss in the bedroom as she is in the office? Or is she one of those powerful people who submits completely?”

Images and memories of Agatha in the bedroom flit through your mind (she is definitely not the latter) and you choke on your drink, sending you into a coughing fit. Rio chuckles knowingly.

“That’s an interesting question to ask someone you just meant,” you say once you’re finally able to breathe again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I’m an interesting person,” she retorts with a smirk. You nod in agreement and laugh. 

And that’s when you feel a hand on your lower back and a presence right behind you. You whirl around, afraid it’s some old man, but it’s your girlfriend. 

“Agatha!” Rio exclaims with delight. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

“Excuse us,” Agatha says rudely and grabs your hand to drag you up the stairs of the event center. 

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. “What, Agatha?”  

She doesn’t say anything until you’re past the top of the stairs and she spins you around and shoves you against one of the pillars. You wince at the cold marble on your cheek but you’re quickly distracted by the feeling of Agatha’s body against your back. 

Particularly, her semi-hardened cock. 

“Were you seriously flirting with Rio Vidal?” She taunts right into your ear. “Was that some pathetic play to get me to notice you?”

You want to tell her that no, of course not, you weren’t even flirting and the only reason Rio had come over was because Agatha had left you all alone, but you don’t do any of that. Instead you wiggle your ass against her, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, and ask, “Did it work?” 

She growls and flips you around, forearm coming up to your throat. “Listen to me, little girl,” she says threateningly. “You are mine.” 

“Oh, am I?” You simper innocently. “I must’ve forgotten in the past week while you’ve been too tired to show me.” 

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “Get on your knees.” 

It makes you falter. “What?” You look around the two of you. There’s no one up on the second floor right now, but Agatha and her co-workers had just been up here a second ago so who’s to say that won’t happen again? You aren’t exactly hidden from view from the people on the ground floor either. 

“Did I stutter?” 

Despite your reservations, you can feel how wet you’re getting and how much you’ve missed having Agatha like this. So you hike up your floor-length gown and slowly drop down to the floor. The tile hurts but you don’t care. 

You reach up to unzip Agatha’s pants and pull her cock out. The tip is already red and leaking with precum and you gasp at the sight, feeling an ache start to grow inside you. 

“Better go fast before someone catches you,” she says, weaving her hand through your blonde hair. You’d like to remind her that if you get caught, she’ll be the one who gets in the most trouble, but she’s right. There isn’t time for that. 

You drag your tongue up the bottom of her cock and swirl it around the tip, getting immense pleasure when she lets out a small groan. You’ve almost forgotten how good she tastes. 

“God, you’re such a good slut for me,” she says. She collects your hair in a pony-tail as you start to bob your head up and down her dick. You can feel it twitch in your mouth and you tease the vein along the side which makes her hips jump. 

You swallow around her and try to push yourself further down. When you get close to gagging, you come back to lick at her tip while your hand strokes your saliva up and down the rest of her cock. 

“You look so fucking pretty with your mouth stretched around me,” Agatha groans. “Fuck, baby, can I use your mouth?”

You nod eagerly, peering up at her through your eyelids. Something about her using you like a toy really gets to you. 

And then you open your mouth wide and let her fuck her cock into you. You really hope the wet sounds you’re hearing are not as loud for everyone else. 

The need to breathe is burning in your lungs and your eyes are tearing up, but you can tell Agatha is close to cumming based on the tightening grip in your hair, the blissed expression on her face, and the way her cock is stuttering on your tongue. You want her to cum all over your face when she suddenly stops and pulls out of you. Air rushes into you and you cough weakly. 

“What?” You ask, a little disappointed. Without answering, she pulls you off your knees and pushes you back against another wall. She parts your dress at the slit and slides a hand through it to cup you over your underwear, smirking triumphantly when she finds you soaked. 

“God, sucking me off where anyone could see like a whore really does it for you, doesn’t it?” She taunts. “So pathetic, baby. So needy. You want me to fuck you so badly, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been such a brat this whole night, right? You want my attention, my cock in you so bad that this is how you’re acting?” 

Embarrassment colors your cheeks but you hold your head high. Nothing she said was false. “What are you going to do about it?” 

She scoffs and smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to remind you who you belong to, because apparently a little slut like you needs a constant reminder.” She directs you to hike your dress up and she slides your underwear to the side. She positions one of your legs over her hip and without preamble, she thrusts her cock all the way into you. Your head falls back against the wall with a loud moan. 

Agatha clamps her hand over your mouth and stays still. She is filling you up so perfectly, even if it’s been a week since you’ve taken her. The delicious stretch is exactly what you’ve been missing. 

“Please, Aggie,” you whimper and she starts to move, hitting your special spot every time. “Feels so good.” 

“God, you’re taking my cock so well,” she grunts, picking up her pace. Your mouth falls open but no noise comes out. “It’s like you were made for me. So perfect, angel. Such a good girl.” You nod your head and roll your hips with every one of her thrusts. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan, feeling her nails dig into your hips through her dress. You know that she’s close, can feel her throbbing inside you, and you’re not too far behind. 

“Such a desperate slut,” she croons. If there’s one thing about Agatha you love, it’s how quickly and effortlessly she can go from praise to degradation and back. “Needing me so bad, making me fuck you at my work event because a whore like you wants to be filled. Where anyone could walk up here and see how desperate you are for me. I want them to see what a whore I make you into. Especially Rio. Want her to know who you belong to. Fuck, sweetheart. Want me to fill you up, baby?” 

The thought of her spilling her cum inside you makes you clench even more around her cock. You absolutely love the feeling: the warmth, the way it feels leaking out of you, the times Agatha would eat you out after and taste the mix of your wetness with her cum and then kiss you so you could taste it too. 

“Yes, please, Aggie, fill me up, breed me,” you whine, whispering the two words that the both of you only use on special occasions. 

It has the intended effect because a feral look settles in Agatha’s eyes and she fucks into you with renewed vigor, hands gripping you so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

Or at least you hope. 

“Gonna breed you, baby, gonna fill you up with my cum,” she pants, the effort getting to her a little. “Cum all over my cock like the perfect slut that you are.” 

You take a hand off her shoulder to reach down and rub your clit and that little extra spark of pleasure sends you orgasming all over Agatha’s cock. Her hips splutter and she lets out a long sigh before you feel her twitch inside you and then a spurt of warmth fills you. You moan at the feeling, almost cumming again.

She stays in you until she softens and the second she pulls out, she wipes her cock all over your pussy to clean herself off, smearing the mess all over you, and tugs your lacy underwear back into place. You bite your lip at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you and when you take a shaky step towards her, you can feel how drenched your panties are, coated with a mixture of the two of you. 

And now you have to spend the rest of the night like that. 

“I promise I’ll clean you off when we get home,” Agatha says, teasing smirk telling you that her tongue will definitely be involved. You clench around nothing at her words and the images they bring, and you can feel more of her cum ooze out. You’re able to tell that some of it is on your inner thighs and you really hope it’s not visible through the dress. Or on the dress. 

But you don’t have time to worry about that. Agatha kisses you softly and pulls you in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you this week,” she murmurs. “I’m all yours this weekend, I swear on my life. I told the guys earlier that if they had a problem, they’d have to figure it out themselves or wait until Monday.” 

You tighten your arms around her, feeling suddenly giddy. “Thank you, baby.”

Agatha reluctantly steps away after a few more moments of holding you close and you miss her body against yours. “Shall we rejoin society?” 

You pretend to think about it for a second until she smiles and then you take her hand. She leads you back down the stairs, her cum still seeping out of you. 

[sugarushwriting]

cherry popper —

sunghoon x reader

getting your cherry popped by your enemy

mature content featured, read at your own discretion

note: i know i know i said a writing schedule but this is my issue — i just want you all to read what i have planned so bad! i’ll start the schedule soon, ignore my last updated post

“you are infuriating!” you screeched, stomping your foot to the ground like a child.

“no, you are!”

“for goodness sake, you both are infuriating!” your professor interrupted your arguing with park sunghoon.

your worst enemy since middle school. now both ready to graduate university soon, nothing has changed.

you and sunghoon turned to your professor with looks of disgust towards one another. your professor has had you both in her classes for 3 semesters as you both shared a major.

“i’ve dealt with you two for too long! always arguing before, after, and during my lectures! you two can’t even stop bickering long enough to enjoy this nice class trip!” the professor rambled.

“professor, i really was trying to enjoy this trip—,” the professor cut you off

“no you haven’t! any given moment you started an argument with mr. park, knowing he will argue back. you two leave me no choice, you are to stay here in your rooms at the hotel, my assistant will be staying on the floor if you two need anything. he’ll most likely try to find a bonding exercise for you two.”

“if we stay here, that means we miss the exhibits!” sunghoon exclaimed, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hurt, and anger towards you.

the professor shrugged. “hopefully it’ll teach you a lesson like i teach my children.” she scolded, waving her finger at both of you.

you and sunghoon stood in the hallway of the hotel dumbfounded that you would be missing the exhibit you both were so excited to view. three months you’ve been waiting for this trip!

you groaned in annoyance, “you just have to ruin everything, huh?”

sunghoon turned to you wide eyed, “me? you’re the one always starting shit between us two!”

“you could just ignore me.” you shrugged trying to place the blame all on him.

“ignore you? i’ve tried, and you never let it go. you keep pestering like an annoying little bug until i reply to you.”

your lip turned up, “listen here you little—,”

“finish that sentence and i’ll ask the hotel to make you clean toilets.” your professors graduate assistant snapped.

you and sunghoon turned around to face the young guy who couldn’t be more than 3 years older than you.

“faked being ill because my girlfriend happened to come down to the city to see me. haven’t seen her in four months as we live apart,” the assistant began explaining, “but now i have to babysit two annoying little young adults who can’t get along for nothing!”

“man, you don’t have to babysit us. we can care for ourselves.” sunghoon stated.

“and risk you two sneaking off?” the assistant shook his head.

you crossed your arms, “so what do you want us to do?”

“the hotel is low on staff in the kitchen. they just need help with dishwashing and putting together cutlery.”

“no way! i don’t want my fingers to turn into raisins!”

“that’s why gloves were invented, cherry.”

you narrowed your eyes, ready to stab sunghoon if you could, especially at the nickname he’s given you for the past year.

“you two, kitchen, now. you can go to your separate rooms afterwards. don’t snitch on me, help the kitchen out, and i’ll tell the professor you two got along well enough to be able to join in on the activities tomorrow.”

“deal.” both you and sunghoon agreed.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it was all going well—decently well for you and sunghoon until you dropped a plate in the sink, causing the water to splash both you and him.

he splashed water back, so now you and him were banned from dishwashing and instead wrapping cutlery for future hotel guests.

about an hour later, you both were only half way done through the giant bucket of clean dishes.

“this is exhausting!” you sighed. “my neck is starting to hurt.”

“stop whining and just keep going.” sunghoon replied quietly.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?”

sunghoon dropped the fork and spoon he was holding. “mhm, i don’t know, maybe you? always starting arguments with me.”

“you’re the one who started it, park sunghoon.”

“when did i ever start? you are the one who started it back in middle school.”

“middle school? sunghoon, i never even talked to you in middle school until that day you said my hair bow was ugly.” you reminded him.

that’s when sunghoon became your enemy. maybe for a stupid reason, but as a young girl, you had tried a new hair style with a hair bow after your mom made you get a hair cut, that the salon butchered.

you were insecure about it for a while, but it only really unsettled you when sunghoon came up to you one day during lunch telling you that your ‘hair bow was ugly, and nothing can make your hair look pretty again.’

since then, you’ve always sought out to ruin park sunghoon. whether it was getting better grades, to become top of the class. becoming class president so he’d be class vice president.

or even childish things like a whoopie cushion, taking a picture of him picking his nose in private, and even starting arguments over small things.

but the biggest would have to be when you started dating his friend second to last year in high school, you two only ending the relationship a little over a year ago.

kang taehyun.

it was a sneaky move to date your enemy’s friend. but it worked in your favor as just your presence annoyed sunghoon. he started to dislike you even more then.

but it wasn’t like sunghoon and taehyun were best friends, they just happened to be in the same friend group.

sunghoon remembered the day he called your hair bow ugly. he actually didn’t think it was ugly, but he was upset about what he overheard you and your friends at the time saying about him.

then when sunghoon found out you were actually dating taehyun, he couldn’t believe it. he would tease you and only bring it up to taehyun the reasoning for you to date his friend was to annoy him.

sunghoon used to hate seeing you around all the time when he just wanted to be with his friends. he especially disliked whenever taehyun would be too handsy with you.

“i only called your hair bow ugly because you and your friends made fun of me.” sunghoon sighed deeply. his lips went into a thin straight line as he went back to his deep thinking, focused on wrapping the silverware.

you looked at him surprised and confused. “sunghoon, when did my friends and i ever make fun of you?”

sunghoon sighed once more, wanting to forget the whole incident, but knew now was probably a good, but very late time to confront you about it.

“i overheard you all laughing at the fact i was a figure skater at the time, and said something about me being feminine.”

you stood there, too much in shock. your brain racked old memories and conversations, trying to remember that exact time. as you stood and stared, sunghoon continue on with the kitchen chore.

then it hit you, and you slightly chuckled. “sunghoon, we weren’t laughing at you. we were admiring you. the fact you was a boy doing figure skating? we were so impressed! and the feminine thing was a compliment, i promise! i swear as young girls we were jealous because you had a nice body we were jealous of at the time.”

sunghoon snapped his head toward you, observing you for any chance of a lie. he saw none as you stood there and smirked.

“you really called my hair bow ugly, to upset me, because you misheard my conversation with my friends?”

sunghoon scoffed, “well i mean, as a young boy, it was hard enough being a figure skater. i was just, don’t know, very introverted and shy.”

which he still was most times.

“you aren’t introverted or shy around me, sunghoon.”

“because i can’t be. you drive me up the wall on my nerves.”

you laughed. sunghoon liked the sound. he always did.

then he asked, “did i really hurt your feelings by saying your bow was ugly?”

you nodded. “yes you did. that started a war.”

“a war between us that i think we can now end?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

after another hour, you all were close to finished when the kitchen staff let you go. rubbing your neck, you complained, excited to shower and just lay around for the rest of the night.

it was only 6 in the evening, and the exhibit went on until 9 pm, and you both were sure the professor and classmates would be off doing their own thing for the rest of the night as curfew wasn’t until 1 am.

“wanna watch a movie?” sunghoon asked, startling you. “i mean, there’s nothing else going on for us, and we could, maybe, keep each other entertained?”

you shrugged. “sure. just let me shower first. my room or yours?”

“mine. my friend and roommate, heeseung, snuck in some beer.”

you smiled. “perfect.”

half an hour later, you both were showered, in comfy clothes, and in sunghoon’s hotel room, sitting on the couch at the end of the beds watching a movie.

two drinks in, sunghoon was feeling bold. “why did you date taehyun?”

being caught off guard, you slowly turned your head, then tilted. “uh, why?”

“did you only date him because of me? to make me mad or jealous?”

“more to make you mad.” you teased with a wink.

“well congrats, you made me both mad and jealous by dating my friend.” sunghoon snickered, sipping his bottle of beer. he was no where near drunk or even tipsy. just a bit of extra courage running through his veins.

it was him watching you out of the side of his eye that got him this way. your laugh, your smile, the smell of you, so intoxicating.

you were more shocked and confused than ever. “sunghoon, what?”

sunghoon leaned down to look at your face, “taehyun used to bitch and moan that he could never get in your pants. that you would tease him, only willing to dry hump with him.”

you swallowed but rolled your eyes as well. taehyun always did complain that you never let him have sex with you. it never really bothered you.

taehyun knew you were a virgin. what he didn’t know was that whenever you thought about finally being intimate with him, all you thought about what sunghoon. all you could see was sunghoon. your thoughts were consumed of sunghoon whenever you thought anything sexual.

“why wouldn’t you have sex with your boyfriend, cherry?”

“why do you call me cherry?”

“answer me first.” sunghoon placed the bottle on the floor bedside him so he could turn his body to face you once more.

“uh, well i just didn’t want to have sex with him.” you shrugged one shoulder.

“why not?”

“eh eh, i answered you, your turn.” you tsked.

sunghoon bit his lower lip, staring at your lips as he replied, “because of that cherry lip gloss you always wear.”

you were wearing it now. not only did it look good against your skin, it tasted good too, whenever you got your nervous antics and chewed on your lip.

sunghoon always observed you putting that cherry lip gloss on your lips. it started with the cherry chapstick in high school, but just a little over a year ago you started wearing the cherry lip gloss.

“now answer me.” sunghoon demanded.

you took in a deep breath wondering how much or little to tell him. “well,”

“—was it because he wasn’t me?” sunghoon interrupted, your eyes going wide.

“sunghoon, no, what would give you that idea?”

“he told me he heard you calling out another guy’s name while playing with a toy of yours. he looked at me with anger and disbelief as if i had something to do with it.”

your eyes still wide, mouth shaped into an ‘o.’ you laughed nervously waving sunghoon off, “ah, he probably misheard me, that’s all.”

“i don’t believe you cherry.” sunghoon stated, standing up from the couch only to stand directly in front of you. eye level now with his crotch, you looked at him with innocent and confused eyes.

“sunghoon—,”

sunghoon stopped you mid sentence just by his thumbs hooking to the hem of his sweats, only pulling them down a little, teasing to pull out his cock.

“have you only kissed and dry humped him? what else have you done with him while thinking of me?” sunghoon clicked his tongue.

you shook your head. “sunghoon you’re mistaken!”

“sucked taehyun’s dick while thinking of me? mhm, even dry hump him thinking and wishing it was my lap you were rocking against?”

each sentence, sunghoon leaned in closer, mouth inches from yours. he could smell the cherry lip gloss of yours. excited to taste it finally.

you closed your eyes because—it was the truth. all of it. you blurted, “i never had sex with him because i’m a virgin!”

sunghoon chuckled, raising to his full height again. with a smirk, “mhm so my cherry was waiting to get her cherry popped by her enemy.”

you tightened your legs closer together for friction, but also to prevent yourself from becoming any wetter at just his words.

your movement didn’t go unnoticed from sunghoon. he got down on his knees in front of you. “has my cherry thought about getting ate out from her enemy? have you imagined it was me instead of taehyun going down on you?”

you shook your head, wanting to not believe this was happening. it wasn’t until you felt sunghoon’s teeth bite your thigh through your own bottoms, you snapped your eyes open.

“what was that for!”

sunghoon laughed, “be honest baby.” then, you nodded. “guess i’ll have to make your imagination become reality, huh?”

quick and easy, he got your bottoms off of your legs, and used his thumb to tease your clit through your underwear. a wet spot already beginning to form.

sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with neediness and excitement. he got up from his knees, you internally protesting, until his lips captures yours into a searing kiss.

he whispered against your lips, “so tasty, cherry,” as he continued to intensely work his lips against yours, loving the cherry lip gloss against his own lips.

he soon fell back to his knees, kissing up your right thigh before he moved your underwear to the side, poking his index finger to your cunt. he was met with tightness and some resistance, but only because it was a new feeling, new fingers for you. long, fingers to be exact.

sunghoon poked his index finger in your hole, followed by his middle finger, your legs opening wider for him, head rolling to the back of the couch with a groan. your hands gripped the couch, fingers digging into the cushions.

sunghoon then added a third finger, his ring finger, and your right leg went to hook over his shoulder, him holding your left wide open for him.

it was so much you wanted to snap your legs closed. sunghoon rocked his fingers in and out a few times, until your wetness covered his fingers, and he pulled out, quickly undressing you of your underwear. but just as quickly as his fingers were gone, it was replaced with his tongue and lips.

“sung—hoon!” you sang into a moan, left hand gripping his locks.

he moaned into your cunt, lapping up the juices you had to offer to him, occasionally using his k-9 teeth to nibble on your folds and clit. when his lips found home onto your clit, using his tongue to swirl, teeth to nibble, three of his fingers entered back into your cunt, no warning or teasing. he began rocking his fingers in and out in a medium pace, his tongue flicking your bud.

your chest and stomach began to tighten, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, head rolling onto the back of the couch from left to right. he removed his lips, fingers still, only to spit on your cunt, and got right back to work as if he didn’t pause to begin with.

this orgasm was about to be intense. taehyun never gave you mind blowing head like this. he was always decent, though. but sunghoon’s tongue was magic and had you coming way too soon.

“hoon!” you moaned loudly, hoping no one outside the door could hear you. “i’m—hoon, i—come—my goodness!” you babbled.

sunghoon used only his tongue while you came down from your first orgasm of the night.

your body jerked from the overstimulation, you pushing sunghoon’s head away.

“taste so good, cherry. better than i imagined.” he whispered once again, against your lips, before kissing you, his tongue poking through to find yours.

while kissing him, sunghoon grabbed you by your thighs so he picked you up and held you, turning around so he sat on the couch with you straddling him.

your wetness immediately started to stain his sweats, but he didn’t care. “hump me, cherry.”

“like this?” you asked. he wanted you to hump him? you bare below, him with his sweats?

you squealed when a palm of his came down to your bare ass. “it wasn’t an option, cherry.”

you nodded, biting your lip, as you began to rock your hips back and forth and in circles around his cock which was imprinting through his sweats. your cunt could feel the outline of him, getting wetter with each movement.

soon, you were on your way to your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as you became more sloppy, only worried about reaching your second orgasm.

“that’s it cherry, use me like you’ve always wanted.” fuck sunghoon’s words were not (but was) helping.

your hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as your movements increased as your orgasm was approaching.

your thighs started to become wet from your own juices, a big spot covering sungoon’s outline.

sunghoon pulled you closer as you came, he began sucking and kissing your neck, sending you over the edge even more.

your movements slowed down, as his hands stayed glued to your hips. your breathing became heavy against his collarbone, you giving it a peck, leaving a lip mark.

you’ve had two orgasms, sunghoon none. you leaned back to look sunghoon in the eyes. “what about you coming?”

sunghoon’s lips perked up, “cherry, i’ll come, don’t you worry.”

sunghoon from underneath, pulled down his sweat pants, your thighs and cunt somewhat hovering over him. you felt his tip brush against your folds, your body shivering with excitement.

you only hoped your toys prepared you enough for this moment. sunghoon pushed his sweats off as far as he could, down to his ankles. his shirt came off next, along with yours, leaving you both completely naked.

“cherry, i hope you used a dildo big enough.” he stated as he pulled a condom out from between the couch cushions. you were to entranced to even comment on that.

you bit your lip, “i hope so too, hoon.” you sighed against his lips, kissing him, as he helped you ease down on his hard cock after he put on the condom.

you bit down on his lip when he fully pushed you down on his length, a loud moan coming from you both.

“fuck, so tight cherry.” sunghoon groaned, head leaning back against the couch. “those toys did nothing to prepare you for me.”

you stayed still, both in a comfortable position. “i’m scared to move.”

“just go slow, okay?” sunghoon’s fingertips ran up and down your spine to comfort you. with a sigh of pleasure, you lifted your hips to the tip only, to slowly push back down.

you were sure you felt him in your stomach. slowly, you kept a rhythm of up and down on his length, occasionally rocking your clit forward for friction.

soon your thighs were starting to tense and become tired. “hoon, can—can you take over please?” you sighed against his cheek, nose resting in his neck.

without even removing himself from in you, sunghoon stood up from the couch, your wetness dripping in between the both of you. he carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapped around him.

he laid you on the bed, again, never slipping from inside you. his hand found one of your hips, the other resting against your cheek.

“let me know if it’s too much.” sunghoon stated before he pulled out completely only to push back with such force, your cunt squelched, your eyes shutting, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“fuck! sunghoon!”

you wasn’t expecting that. but honestly, you wasn’t expecting or even wanting him to be gentle.

for the next however long, which felt like hours, sunghoon rutted his cock in and out of your cunt with ease, your wetness spilling out on your thighs and his.

his thumb came down to your clit, rubbing left, right, up, and down, stimulating you just right to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

“that’s it cherry, baby come on my cock. come on your first cock. fuck!” sunghoon moaned. “such a dirty slut thinking about your enemy while with that ex of yours.”

“hoon—sorry,” you apologized for no reason at all. why was you apologizing?

“wanted me to be the one to pop your cherry? got your wish.” sunghoon sighed, his pace of thrusts speeding up and becoming sloppy as he was chasing his first orgasm. “fucking whore thinking of me while playing with your toys. imagining it was me eating you out. kissing you. all while with—,”

with a loud, explosive moan, you cut sunghoon off as you came for the third time. no squirting involved, but you did have so much wetness dripping out of you, anyone could be mistaken.

sunghoon released into the condom with a low, throaty, growl-like moan, collapsing on top of you before rolling off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

sometime in the middle of the night, you heard hush whispers. you didn’t move an inch, only somewhat, subconsciously listening.

“sorry man, i can ask her to leave?”

“absolutely not! i’ll go bunk with her roommate for this trip. once i tell her why i need somewhere to sleep she will be more than thrilled.”

it was heeseung, coming in after 3 am. once he saw you and sunghoon in the same bed, he didn’t even ask questions, only smiled.

about damn time you two fucked the anger out of one another.

sunghoon crawled back in bed next to you, your body only covered by a shirt of his. sunghoon stared at your sleeping figure with a smile.

you were finally his.

[amastarxoxo]

ㅤ        ㅤ             ⠀✣ ⠀۪⠀ ´ beloved ⠘ ✫

yandere jinx x love deprived! fem! reader ft. vi and caitlyn

very self indulgent , regular-ish jinx ( she would be a perfect yandere ) , topside! reader , model! reader , nsfw + sfw-ish , mentions of killing / bombing people , overprotective! stalker! jinx , mini series , self aware-ish! reader , mentions of stolen belongings , reader described to be obsessed with pastels ( pink & blue ) , reader being friends w vi + caitlyn , jealous!/possessive! jinx , pervert! jinx , mentions of manipulation , kidnapping , wlw ( duh )

i — ii

s.masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა masterlist

Another day, another item missing; your iconic poster of yourself. now the wall it was previous on was now empty and just a void of pink and blue stripes.

“caitlyn, i really don’t know.” your shoulders slump, already exhausted from these missing items; it started off small like from your lip glosses or nail polish to your panties and bra from your laundry basket then to your portraits and photos of yourself you hang up. “do you have security cameras?” vi asked her hand gripping her chin while looking around. “well i mean yes but they’re inactive right now.” caitlyn raised her eyebrow at you. “what do you mean, ‘inactive’?”

“i mean like i haven’t really put them up.” the pinkette and bluette girls stare at you in disbelief. “are you serious right now?” vi threw her arms up in the air. “honestly, we should just leave you to get more of your stuff stolen.” vi said, caitlyn sighed and pinches the bridge of her nose, “let’s put the cameras up.” you got out of bed, wrapping the sleeping robe around yourself, “finally someone isn’t judging me and is TRYING to help!” you glance over at vi as she rolled her eyes.

“another photo of my wife.” the girl muttered to herself, pulling the photo out of the stolen polaroid camera, a photo snapped of your back of your room, the way robe shaped your whole figure got her hypnotized, enchanted even. she shouldn’t even be here, not during the day at least. it’s too risky to be getting caught on the roof of a famous model and being a wanted criminal, but you have this invisible leash on her and she willingly follow you wherever. the only issue is them.

her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. vi and caitlyn, attached to you by the hip. it’s irritating. why do they get to be so close to you but she has to keep her distance? that’s not fair. you watches as the three of you living your bedroom. she thought about what if she just…sneak into your room and stay hidden like underneath your bed? it’s sure is big enough and the blankets spills over the bed and covers the sides so it wouldn’t be hard and you aren’t the most observant type of person.

“cameras in living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, closet, laundry room, and entrance.” caitlyn swaps on the tablet through the cameras as you make some breakfast, “anywhere else?” you shake your head no. “breakfast done.” you slide the rest of the food onto a plate for yourself and brings it to the kitchen island.

as vi and caitlyn chatted, you stayed in thought. you noticed how every time your stuff goes missing, the culprit always leaves sometime of note in messy handwriting. you haven’t shown your two friends, you don’t know why; maybe because she was swooned by the little love letters. just from the letters you can tell it’s a girl, even better.

“earth to y/n? hello???” vi snaps her fingers in your face, quite literally snapping you out of your thoughts, you blinked barely moving, looking over to the side with just your eyes. “yea? what’s up?” you picked up the warm bacon and egg together with your fork and puts the food in your mouth. “are you alright?” caitlyn asks, looking worried. you nodded. “don’t worry, we’ll find the person soon, they won’t get away with this.” you gave caitlyn a small smile, thanking her. “when’s your next model runaway?” you ate another place of food of your plate, “next…month?” vi looks at the time. “yea, thanks for breakfast y/n, me and caitlyn has to go now.”

caitlyn gets up and starts heading for the door with vi, “remember to give us VIP tickets, okay?” caitlyn joked. you let out a breathy laugh, “sure—later guys.” you watched as vi opens the door and locks back as they both exited and close the now locked door behind them. a faint sound of a breeze blowing inside made you turn around, your view landed on your bedroom.

you cautiously followed the sound and looks inside of the room, your window is open. odd. very odd. you always keep your windows closed, especially on lounge days. you quickly turn back and grabbed the tablet and looks through the cameras.

watching the footage from 30 minutes back, while walking to the shut the window. you were really debating on alerting vi and caitlyn, in the corner of your eye, on the tablet you noticed a slip of hot pink flash. you thought maybe it’s just the way your room illuminate light but you never have your big light on and living in dim lighting; so where did the pink come from?

now you’re really conflicted. you watch the pink light slip into your room but never out. so the whatever it is, is still in here. looking for it and calling the enforcers would be a rational move but you gotten curious and decided to just play along.

in all honesty, it’s way better than getting the enforcers, and the press involved with your personal life. so you’ll just stick around with this ‘game’ until you can uncover the truth yourself.

©︎ A M A T E R A S U. all rights reserved. please don't plazarize, copy, or steal any of my works without my permission, thank you !

lwk i ended earlier than i wanted but i need content for the next episodes so you’ll see soon dw

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Puppy Love | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her. [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

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Part 4 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist

As summer break arrived, Monaco blossomed under the warm sun, and so did their situationship. Charles was back, and he practically took up residence at her place. He’d returned with a clinginess that was both amusing and endearing, like a puppy yearning for attention, which only made her smile.

Every time she prepared for work, he would wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck, groaning dramatically. “Do you really have to go?” he would whine, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “Can’t you just call in sick? I’m pretty sure they’ll survive without you for one day.”

She’d chuckle, playfully shoving him away. “Charles, I can’t just bail on work because you’re back. Besides, someone has to pay for all those late-night takeout orders.”

His eyes widened dramatically, and he pulled away slightly, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m not paying for your late-night snacks? I’m literally a millionaire! I can pay for anything you want! You could just stay here with me forever!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she moved toward the door. “Oh, really? You think I could live off your millionaire bank account while you’re out racing? What a dream that would be!”

“Absolutely! You could be my princess, and I’ll treat you like royalty!” he declared, leaning against the wall, his expression teasingly serious.

“Yeah, right,” she replied, picking up a nearby pillow and tossing it at him. “You’d probably just put me in charge of your laundry!”

He caught the pillow with ease, clutching it to his chest as he feigned heartbreak. “That’s a very important job! Someone has to make sure my clothes don’t get wrinkled!”

“Poor Charles,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “It must be so hard being a millionaire and all.”

He pouted, but she couldn’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss on his cheek “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

His pout was so exaggerated it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. “But I miss you when you’re gone!” he’d argue, pulling her back toward him and pressing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead. “It feels like I just got back, and you’re already abandoning me.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re such a baby! It’s just a few hours. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

One sunny afternoon, as she was tidying up the apartment, the door swung open, and Charles strode in, his excitement palpable. In his arms was a little bundle of fur that yipped playfully, its tail wagging furiously.

“What on earth is that?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. “Meet Leo!”

She looked from Charles to the puppy and back again, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Leo? you brought home a puppy?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Yes! I thought we could use a little one to brighten up our home. Plus, this is our new baby!”

“Our baby?” she repeated, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. “Charles, you mean your puppy, right? What do you mean, our baby?”

“He’s our puppy!” Charles replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Leo needs a mom, and besides, he can keep you company whenever I’m out racing and you refuse to come with me!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think just because you call him our baby, that makes him ours?”

Charles shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s perfect!”

“Wait a minute,” she said, looking from the puppy to Charles and back again, a playful frown forming on her face. “This is still your puppy, not ours. And I’m not sure I can be a good puppy mom! I can barely keep my plants alive!”

He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come on! Just think about it. You can take care of him, and we can be a family! Plus, he needs someone to love him while I’m away.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, kneeling beside her as Leo bounced around her feet, his little tail wagging furiously. “Look how much he loves you already!”

Leo dashed between them, barking excitedly, and she found herself reaching down to pet the exuberant little pup. “Okay, okay,” she relented, grinning as Leo nuzzled into her hand. “But you have to take care of him, too. I can’t do this all on my own while you’re off being a superstar.”

“Deal!” Charles agreed, his face lighting up. “I’ll take him on all my runs. We’ll be the ultimate team!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of puppy chaos and laughter. Leo was a whirlwind of energy, darting around the apartment, chasing after toys, and testing the limits of their patience. She and Charles found themselves falling into an easy routine, their lives seamlessly intertwining with the new addition.

One afternoon, while they lounged on the floor, Leo bouncing between them with a toy in his mouth, Charles looked at the pup with a furrowed brow, then back at her. “You know, Leo really seems to like you more than me,” he sulked, his tone mock-serious.

She giggled, scooping Leo into her arms, the little guy licking her face enthusiastically. “Of course he likes me more! I’m his mom!”

“Wow, okay, don’t rub it in!” he huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the one who brought him home!”

“Doesn’t matter! Obviously, our kid likes his mom more,” she teased, watching as a dreamy look spread across his face, his expression softening.

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at her, tackling her gently to the carpet. Leo jumped along, barking excitedly as they tumbled into a heap, laughter filling the room. Charles captured her in his arms, pinning her down with a grin that lit up his face. “You can’t just steal my puppy’s affection like that!”

“Maybe I can,” she challenged, her breathless laughter echoing in the room as Leo bounced around them, eager to join in the fun.

“Fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “If Leo loves you so much, then I guess I have to remind you who’s the real winner here.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a warm, soft kiss, the world around them fading away. Leo, ever the enthusiastic participant, dove in to lick Charles’s cheek, causing him to pull back with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I guess we have to share the love,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “But I’m still the favorite, right?”

“Sure, Mr. Favorite,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she scratched Leo behind the ears. “For now, you can keep that title—just don’t get too comfortable.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take it, especially if it means I get to keep having moments like this.”

A few days passed and they were lounging on Charles' couch, with Leo curled up between them and a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. It was one of those blissfully calm evenings, where they’d both surrendered to laziness and were content just to be together. She didn’t expect any surprises, which was probably why his next words caught her entirely off-guard.

“So,” Charles started, his voice all too casual as he ran a hand through Leo’s fur, “my mom invited you to dinner.”

She nearly choked on her sip of tea, coughing as she set the cup down and looked at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

Charles’s lips curved into a sheepish smile, his cheeks a bit pink. “My mom invited you to dinner,” he repeated, a little slower, and with that too-innocent tone he used when he was trying to soften the impact of something.

“Why…?” she finally managed, still blinking in surprise. “I mean, why would she invite me? Does she even know about me?”

“Kind of,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, looking a little too guilty. “I might’ve mentioned our… friendship a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mom about us?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably but keeping his gaze steady now. “She likes hearing about what’s going on in my life. And…Arthur may have told her about you too, after the Grand Prix.”

“Arthur?” She laughed, surprised. “So you’ve got your whole family talking about me?”

Charles laughed too, though he looked a little bashful. “Not my whole family,” he teased. “But, well, Arthur thought you were great, and he might’ve said some things.”

“Some things?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know…” he trailed off, scratching Leo’s ears, clearly trying to downplay it. “Just that I’d been spending a lot of time with you, and how I kept talking about you, apparently.” He coughed, a little red creeping into his cheeks. “And…there was that video that went viral. The one of us celebrating after the race, remember?”

Ah, yes—the clip that had circulated all over social media, where they’d been caught hugging and him kissing her face right after the race. She’d nearly forgotten how the internet had blown up with speculation after that.

Her mouth dropped open as she took it all in. “So your whole family knows about us because you keep talking about me?”

Charles shrugged, looking both a little shy and quite pleased with himself. “Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it clear he didn’t mind one bit. “Besides, you know how my family is. Lorenzo’s been complaining that Arthur got to meet you first, so now he has to meet you too, or it’s unfair, apparently. It’s a whole thing.”

She tried to process that, feeling a strange mix of nerves and amusement. “And your mom… what did you tell her exactly?”

Charles smirked, enjoying her reaction. “Just that you’re a really good friend I’ve been spending a lot of time with, and that you take great care of Leo. My mom just decided she needed to meet this ‘friend’ for herself.”

“Oh, right,” she said, shaking her head, still processing the surprise. “So your mom saw that video, heard about me from Arthur, and then decided she just had to meet me?”

Charles shrugged, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Can you blame her? You’re pretty interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “That still doesn’t explain why she’d want me to come to dinner. Meeting your mother is…kind of a big deal, Charles. And weren’t we just…casual?”

“Of course we’re casual,” he said, though his tone was light, and he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’ll just be going as my friend, that’s all. Meeting your friend’s mom is normal, right?”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands, which suddenly felt fidgety. There it was again—that odd feeling she kept trying to push down, the tug of wanting this to be more, even though they’d never really talked about it. “I mean…I guess,” she murmured. “It just feels like…a lot.”

Charles tilted his head, his expression softening as he watched her, clearly sensing her hesitation. “Hey,” he said, reaching over to nudge her shoulder gently. “It’s just dinner. And besides, you’ll have me there the whole time. My family’s just curious about you, that’s all.”

“Curious?” She laughed, some of her tension easing away. “What, Lorenzo needs to check off a list that says ‘Meet Charles’ friend’ or something?”

He smirked. “Pretty much. Lorenzo’s been giving me a hard time because Arthur met you first. He’s jealous, you know?”

“Oh, so now I’m some prize to be won?” she teased, folding her arms.

“Well,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping flirtatiously, “if that’s how you want to think of it, I don’t mind.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Alright, and what does the prize-winner wear to this dinner? Since I’m meeting your mother, I guess I need to impress her?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to her with a twinkle. “Remember that black dress? You know, the one that drives me absolutely crazy?”

“Of course that would be the one you suggest,” she said with a grin, pretending to roll her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the little thrill she felt at his reaction.

He chuckled, inching closer. “I just have good taste, that’s all.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, but her thoughts were anything but calm. Meeting his family felt…big. Like they were something more than casual. Her heart started racing as she thought of it, yet she reminded herself that he’d only said she was a friend. They’d never put a label on this, so she had no right to expect anything.

“Alright,” she finally said, exhaling a breath. “I’ll go.”

Charles broke into a smile, squeezing her hand excitedly. “Perfect! You’ll love them. And they’ll love you, too. Maman picked the restaurant with the best Tiramisu so you’ll enjoy it a lot!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, feeling both excited and a bit nervous. As he pulled his phone out to call his mom, she leaned back, letting her thoughts wander. Their relationship was a weird blur between casual and something…more. She didn’t know if meeting his family would change anything, but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that her heart was more involved than she’d let herself admit.

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

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[woso-story]

The Next Step

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Mapi sat on the balcony of her apartment, staring out at the Barcelona skyline. Normally, this view calmed her, but tonight, her thoughts were anything but calm. She had been with Ingrid for three wonderful years. Three years of laughter, love, and building a life together. She knew Ingrid was the one—she’d known it for a long time.

But proposing? That felt monumental. What if it was too soon? What if Ingrid wasn’t ready for marriage? The fear of rejection gnawed at her, no matter how much she tried to shake it off.

“I need advice,” Mapi muttered to herself, pulling out her phone. She fired off two messages: one to Alexia Putellas and the other to Esmee Brugts.

---

The next day, Mapi met Alexia at a cozy café near Camp Nou. Alexia, ever the team captain, got straight to the point.

“So, you’re finally doing it,” Alexia said with a grin, stirring her coffee.

Mapi sighed, leaning her elbows on the table. “I think so. I mean, I want to. I’ve wanted to for a while. But what if it’s too early? Or what if she doesn’t want to get married at all?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Mapi, you and Ingrid are soulmates. Everyone can see how much you love each other. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Mapi hesitated. “Still, what if I mess it up?”

“Keep it simple,” Alexia said. “Do it somewhere meaningful, somewhere private. You know Ingrid—she’s not about flashy gestures.”

---

Later that evening, Mapi called Esmee. The young Dutch player had become like a little sister to both her and Ingrid.

“You’re really going to propose?” Esmee asked excitedly. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mapi said, laughing nervously. “But do you think Ingrid even wants to get married?”

“Are you kidding? She adores you,” Esmee said. “And you’ve been together for three years. That’s not rushing anything.”

Mapi smiled, her confidence growing. “Okay, so where should I do it?”

Esmee thought for a moment. “You’re going on holiday to Portugal soon, right? Do it there. Somewhere beautiful and private. Maybe at the beach?”

Mapi nodded slowly. “Yeah, that could work.”

---

A week later, Mapi and Ingrid arrived in Portugal for their much-anticipated vacation. They spent their days exploring the charming streets of Lisbon and relaxing on sun-soaked beaches. Every moment felt perfect, but Mapi’s nerves grew as the day of her planned proposal approached.

On their second-to-last evening, Mapi suggested a sunset walk along a quiet stretch of beach. Ingrid happily agreed, her hand slipping into Mapi’s as they strolled along the shore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Mapi stopped. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

“Ingrid,” she began, turning to face her girlfriend.

Ingrid tilted her head, her expression soft. “What is it?”

Mapi reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box. Dropping to one knee, she opened it to reveal a simple but elegant ring.

“I’ve known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me better, you make me happy, and I can’t imagine a future without you. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, Ingrid was speechless, her green eyes wide with surprise. Then, tears filled her eyes as a radiant smile spread across her face.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Of course, yes!”

Mapi slipped the ring onto Ingrid’s finger, and they embraced, the sound of the waves crashing around them.

---

The next morning, Mapi posted a photo on Instagram: the two of them on the beach, their hands intertwined, with Ingrid’s new ring prominently displayed. The caption read: She said yes. My forever.

The comments section exploded almost immediately.

Fans from around the world flooded the post with congratulations, their joy palpable. The women’s football world buzzed with excitement over the engagement.

---

When Mapi and Ingrid returned to Barcelona, they were greeted by a surprise. Their teammates had organized a celebration at a local venue, complete with decorations, food, and even their parents in attendance.

Mapi’s jaw dropped when she walked in. “You guys didn’t have to do this!”

Alexia grinned, raising a glass. “Of course, we did. It’s not every day we get to celebrate a León-Engen engagement!”

The night was filled with laughter, heartfelt toasts, and plenty of dancing. Ingrid’s parents beamed with pride, while Mapi’s family embraced Ingrid as one of their own.

As the party wound down, Mapi pulled Ingrid aside. “I still can’t believe you said yes,” she said teasingly.

Ingrid laughed, wrapping her arms around Mapi. “How could I not? I love you more than anything.”

Mapi kissed her softly, her heart full. She knew this was just the beginning of the next chapter in their story—a story of love, commitment, and a future they couldn’t wait to build together.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i + part ii)

(due to sims doing everything but what i wanted them to, this extended into night and the screencaps were terrible - i apologise)

“Avery, I feel like our potential isn’t necessarily reflected by your score, and much of that was my doing. You just seemed to catch me when I was in the middle of a Moment and was not exactly feeling receptive towards anyone. And among those who did… less well, you were one of the few who actually initiated flirting with me and who seemed to really try. So let’s take this as an opportunity to refresh and maybe have a second shot at things. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

“Jayla, you’re clearly having a ball and I enjoyed being in a household with you. But so far you haven’t seemed all that drawn to me, and I feel that at least in terms of romance, I’m the one putting in all the work. You are one of eighteen, and it seems like you’re not sure why you’re here. Let me know whether you want this - or not - but let me know. See you for Round Two.”

the final four...

“You know how it goes. I have only one of my strawberries left, and I am not splitting it four - just who the plum comes up with these things…”

“Forest - considering your strong start, this is a long way to fall. We have potential and you’ve shown hints of sweetness, but you keep on pushing me away - and your autonomous mean interactions? Not okay. It wasn’t cute when boys did that in grade school, and it’s far from cute now. If your aim is to sabotage yourself, then you’re succeeding spectacularly.” (Forest: nervously sweating...)

“Lee - much like Forest, yet worse. While I get the sense that Forest has the potential - and maybe even the want - to be something better than his past behaviour, you on the other hand seem perfectly happy with just how you present yourself. Well, I’m not. I like the version of you who is friends with Tiago and who has some moments of vulnerability, not whatever this is.” (Lee: unbothered, totally convinced this is all a ruse...)

(Araminta: hoping to the old Watchers and the new that Forest is going home...)

“Piper - if only we had even a little romance, my dear. But at least with me - or perhaps even with life in general - that just doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for, and that’s okay. You stepped out of your comfort zone to try something that doesn’t come naturally to you, and for that you’ll have my eternal admiration. But I’m afraid that this chapter of your story ends here.”

“Aubrey - you’re here for a good time, but sadly not a long time. One of the most gorgeous sims I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I really enjoyed your sense of fun, your mischief and your creativity. As there’s no spark between us, however, let’s just say it’s been real and move on. You were a delight to get to know - I hope we can catch up again after the show.”

“Forest, something is telling me not to let you go just yet. And if I’m wrong, then more fool me. This is a second chance for… whatever you need it to be, I guess. Those don’t come around often, or at all. Make the most of it. And if there’s any more mean behaviour - I may no longer be a werewolf but I’m not completely without bite. Man up and grow up, or get out.”

“Lee, here’s your fifteen minutes. Best of luck in building on them. And as the autonomy settings are driving the Watcher crazy - Araminta, you absolutely don’t need to talk to your horse Every Five Seconds - we’ll say our proper farewells tomorrow.  Sorry for the lack of decent screencaps, everyone, but you only have your pixel selves to blame.”

“Hey beautiful, so I totally know this is all a stunt. You have to leave the audience on a cliffhanger, right? Don’t worry, I’ll play along. I am a supremely talented actor after all - I can even cry on command!” “Mhmm…” (reflects on how that’s only a Level 2 interaction in the ACTING skill)

how scores were calculated

Ooof, I really wanted to take more of the bottom three in particular, but I was also this close to ejecting my EA folder into the sun. They will however each get a proper farewell from Lilac (and a thank you from me to their watchers) and their very own shiny post in broad daylight when hopefully the in-game lighting is better cooperating.

Also now we know just what Forest was up to that very last day. That little so-and-so realised that he was on thin ice and thus was skillbuilding like there was no tomorrow - which for him was almost the case! I will be including Aubrey's, Piper's and Lee's score details in their farewell posts and you will see just how close it all was.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @tipsy-clouds @riverofjazzsims

@plasmafruittree @sleepyselkiesims @fl0pera

[thatnonameuser]

Ok y’all hear me out. I wouldn’t mind being a darling for Kalim, Leona and Malleus b/c they are rich. Maybe not Malleus b/c Lilia is like an annoying mother in law.

So what if a darling is high maintenance? (like wanting designer, having money to get their hair done and stuff)

I can see Lilia “beating” the high maintenance out of the darlings LOL

I also wouldn’t mind, the economy’s in shambles and being pampered and spoiled by the wealth of the rich boys for the rest of my life, I already think they’re hot so it’s not like it’ll be hard. (Though if I had to learn the fae language I would just combust)

So you’re high maintenance, wanting to enjoy only the finer things of life and nothing else. Well…..

Leona Kingscholar

Oh really? Well, if it’s that easy to buy your affection then expect his wallet to be in your lap before you finish your sentence. 

Leona’s a prince who doesn’t even keep an eye on his wallet. (Seriously, he just tosses it at Ruggie and goes about with his day), so if you ever bring up some money problem, he’ll just toss his wallet at you and just not ask for it back. Plus, his royal blood is actually good for something, so putting you in the lap of luxury others can’t access is easy for him. 

Expect to be his pillow for a while though, he’s not a nice guy so you gotta pay him back somehow….

Gift Preference - Doesn’t have one. He either gives you what you ask for or something that marks you as his. 

Kalim Al-Asim

Oh, you like expensive things and just expensive things? Here you go! 

Kalim already loves giving you gifts, and he never really bothers to look at the price tag when it comes to anything, and you could just say a word and he’ll get you the most expensive option of that word. Want a bag? Have one made with leather so expensive and rare, that this one is the only one in existence. Want a necklace? Have a jewelry store full of them with jewels so big, heavy and expensive they weigh a pound each! Want a new wardrobe. Et cetera, et cetera. 

Though you might learn about the fact he wants to have you fitted for some special jewelry for your wrists and ankles, but they’re solid gold and encrusted with rubies! That’s good enough for you, right?

Gift Preference - Anything and Everything. Just ask. Or don’t. Either way, He will still give it to you.

Vil Schoenheit

Oh, you’re high maintenance, so is he, so you’ll get along just fine.

You can’t tell me Vil doesn’t touch anything that could sully or damage the perfection he’s spent years cultivating. You want to be high-maintenance, perfect, that's his entire lifestyle. 

So, if you want to be spoiled. Fine, he knows exactly who to call and they’ll drop everything as soon as he calls them. You want to get your hair done, he has a hairstylist on speed dial that can turn straw-like hair into silk. You want a massage, he knows a very exclusive place that can make every limb of your body feel like a soft putty. You want designer clothes, all it takes is a phone call and you’ll be measured and fitted by the designers themselves. 

He might make a date out of all this with you, accompanying you on all these wonderful excursions. 

Gift Preference - High fashion and self-care. All his gifts make you all the more perfect. 

Neige LeBlanche

You like to buy expensive things?....Is 150,000 thaumarks a month okay or…?

Neige doesn’t notice the fact you’re probably only with him for his money. He doesn’t mind if he does because he doesn’t care. You like nice expensive things, he’ll make sure you can get those nice things. He’ll send you enough money to make sure you can keep up with your tastes without issue. If the money he sends isn’t enough he’ll double it, triple it even, all for you.

Just remember that if he ever ‘slips’ that you’re only really affectionate when he’s giving you something, you’ll be in some hot water. 

Gift Preference - While I personally believe that Neige prefers to make homemade gifts for you, you being high maintenance means that he’ll give you those alongside the hundreds of thousands of thaumarks for your allowance.

Idia Shroud

You just want him because he’s buying you stuff. That’s pretty shallow. Yes, he’ll still buy them for you.

Idia’s a little self aware that you would be bought solely on what the expensive luxuries he gives you. And is he going to be mad about that? No. If it keeps you close, it keeps you close so take what he can give. If anything’s wrong tell him so he can buy something better. He knows that you’re just here with him because he’s giving you stuff, but he’ll combust without your attention. 

Gift Preference - Tech-based gifts, top of the line and exclusive consoles and electronics. It’s his specialty and he can hide cameras in them to watch you when you’re away.

Malleus Draconia

You enjoy being surrounded by wealth and luxury? Then he’ll bury you in a mountain of it, you deserve all of it.

Malleus is so devoted to you, so no price is too great. To him, as the prized jewel of his hoard you deserve so much. So much he can’t even give you so he’ll give you as much as you’d like. All you have to do is ask, and if he can’t figure out how to get it, he’ll go to Lilia to ask for help on how to get it. 

In exchange he asks for nothing. All he wants is to bask in your radiance. But much like all the priceless treasures he’s given you, you are precious. And precious things need to be protected lest they be stolen. And he won’t allow you to be stolen. 

Gift Preference - Jewels, not just in jewelry, he’ll give them to you raw and polished and all of them are bigger and heavier than the last. Have a favorite gemstone? He’ll give you a mountain of those. Nothing’s too much for you. 

*                        *                        *                        *

Also about Lilia….. (did I make him a boy mom? I feel like I did)

Lilia is aware that your high maintenance behavior is exploiting the love your suitors have for you. But if that’s the price to buy your willingness, he’ll keep quiet. If you’re not being difficult in response, then he’ll keep out of it. 

But if you’re being a demanding little princess, denying them while they spoil you, then that behavior is getting beaten out of you.

Turns out the fae super hate greed. So even if Lilia doesn’t like it he’ll put up with it for the greater good, but if you plan on being difficult then you’ll be taught a wonderful lesson on selflessness. The Fae way. And that’s the least painless way. He’ll only let up on you, if one of his boys comes to him about him being too hard on you. 

*                        *                        *                        *

[jerzwriter]

It's Kiss-mas! A Carrick Family Holiday

Once again, @/artbyainna (IG) hits it out of the park! I have not done many commissions lately, but I wanted something special for my OTP for the holidays, and she delivered! Look at my babies with their babies!!! ❤️I'm simply in love with this!

I wrote a story to accompany it below.

Book: Open Heart (Post-Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Featuring: The Carrick Girls: Samantha, Brooke & Kayla Rating: General Words: 1,300 Summary: The Carrick family has opted to have a quiet Thanksgiving at home, and the girls have unknowingly started some new traditions.

Thanksgiving Morning

Thanksgiving morning was finally here, and the Carrick household was buzzing with activity. Tobias and Casey were in the kitchen perfecting their holiday meal while their daughters were in the adjoining family room. Toys were scattered about as Samantha read a poem about being thankful, Brooke busily colored decorations at the coffee table, and little Kayla sat nearby, babbling with delight. Casey watched the peaceful scene with a full heart; this was exactly the kind of holiday she had hoped for.

A short time later, Kayla’s sweet babbling stopped, and she waddled toward the kitchen with her dark curls bouncing and the look of joy that could only be found on a child’s face this time of year in place.  

“It’s Kiss-mas!” she announced triumphantly, beaming as she raised her arms in the air.

Samantha, who remained on the couch, rolled her eyes in true big-sister fashion. “It’s not Christmas, Kayla. Today’s Thanksgiving.”

Brooke looked up from her coloring, her brow slightly furrowed. Ever the peacemaker, she wanted to settle things quickly. “It is Thanksgiving,” she agreed. “But we can start celebrating Christmas today, too.”

Kayla’s tiny body appeared to tremble with glee. “Kiss-mas!”

Tobias scooped his youngest into his arms, pressing a kiss onto her chubby cheek. “You know what, sweetheart. We can start celebrating the Christmas season today.”

“Really?” Brooke gasped, her eyes wide. She had been trying to broker peace before but never imagined they’d get this lucky. “Does that mean we can put up the tree today?”

Casey joined the conversation, a soft smile on her lips. “We don’t have big plans,” she reminded Tobias. “Just us and the girls. So I think we could start decorating, don’t you?”

Tobias turned to her, Kayla wriggling happily in his arms. “I don't see why now. After dinner, we’ll make it happen. Tree, stockings, the works!”

“Yey!!!” Brooke squealed as she danced around the living room. Even Samantha couldn’t help but smile as Kayla happily declared, “It’s Kiss-mas!” once more.

Dinner Time

The house was filled with the aroma of roasting turkey. Samantha helped Tobias set the table, and Brooke and Casey were finishing up in the kitchen as Kayla chased the family cat, Pietro, all around the room. While Tobias and Casey were eager to dig into the delicious meal, the girls were more focused on the promise of Christmas decorating to come.

Samantha was the first to push her plate forward. “I’m done!” she announced with a broad grin.

“Done?” Tobias asked with a raised brow. “You barely touched your food, hon. You’ve gotta eat more than that.”

“Daddy’s right,” Brooke chimed in, clutching a dinner roll. “We need energy for decorating!”

Casey laughed softly, sharing an amused glance with Tobias. “We do need energy,” she agreed. “But there will be no decorating until after we have the pumpkin pie. That’s non-negotiable.”

Kayla sat tall in her high chair, clapping her hands. “Pie! Pie!” she giggled, pointing to the dessert on the counter.

“You can have pie, sweetie,” Casey promised. “As soon as you finish that turkey.”

Despite the older girl’s minds already being set on the tree, the meal was filled with tender moments, especially when they shared what they were most thankful for. Samantha had a long list prepared, covering everything from her family to her books and dolls. Brooke quickly added Mommy’s bedtime stories and Daddy’s pancakes as Tobias playfully whispered into his wife's ear, “Note, it’s not your food,” he laughed. Kayla’s contribution was a little less cohesive—“Cat! Turkey! Kiss-mas!” She yelled as Tobias grinned and told her that was a perfect list.

Decorating the Tree

The girls had barely cleared their plates before they asked their father to get the tree. Almost as eager as they were, he needed little prodding. He returned from the basement with plastic storage bins containing their decorations before Casey finished clearing the table. The girls squealed when he placed them next to the fireplace, where their stockings would soon hang.

Casey knelt beside one of the bins and pulled out their beloved angel tree topper, holding it up with a smile. “Remember this?” she asked Tobias, gently taking his hand. “We bought it our first Christmas together.”

“Before you had us?” Samantha asked, seemingly shocked that her parents had a life before she and her sisters entered it.

“Yep,” Tobias laughed. “Mommy and Daddy actually did things before you were all born, too, you know.”

“But I’m sure they weren’t as fun!” Brooke giggled as she pulled their stockings from another bin.

“Daddy, you have to start with the lights!” Samantha called out, already wrestling with a tangled string. Casey chuckled as Tobias groaned. She knew this was his least favorite part, but Samantha had already assigned the job to him.

The room quickly filled with laughter as holiday music played softly in the background. Brooke worked diligently on the lower branches while, with Tobias’s help, Samantha worked on the higher ones. Casey watched with a smile as she kept Kayla occupied, and they both kept Pietro away from the tree.

“Can we do the stockings next?” Brooke asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Tobias replied, then he helped Brooke hang them carefully along the mantle while Casey added the finishing touches to the tree.

With everything finally in place, they stepped back to admire their work - their faces aglow from the tree’s twinkling lights. It felt like magic. Tobias wrapped his arm around Casey, placing a kiss on her head. “This is perfection,” he whispered, and nearby, Kayla apparently agreed. “It’s Kiss-mas!” she yelled, bouncing up and down with delight.

The End of the Night

“What can we do next?” Samantha asked, hands on her hips.

Tobias exchanged a look with his exhausted wife. “I say we watch some Christmas movies,” he suggested, settling back into the couch.

“Can we have popcorn?” Brooke asked, though her tone left little room for negotiation.

“There’s no other way to do it,” Casey laughed, and as the girls piled onto the couch, Tobias joined her in the kitchen to make popcorn. With the quiet hum of the microwave filling the space, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Do I tell you how thankful I am for you often enough?” he asked, his voice low and filled with emotion.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You tell me quite often,” she replied. “Do I do the same for you?”

“Yes,” he smirked. “But feel free to lay it on me more often. My ego isn’t as big as you think.”

Casey’s laughter filled the room as she gently smacked his chest. “Oh, please. Your ego couldn’t possibly get any bigger.”

They glanced into the living room, where the girls were snuggled under a blanket. Samantha and Brooke already bickering over what to watch first, while Kayla, nestled between them, looked completely unphased by the commotion.

“Our lives have sure changed since our first Thanksgiving together,” Casey said, leaning into Tobias’s chest.

He nodded, his voice full of reverence. “You can say that again, and they just keep getting better.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple before they carried the popcorn into the living room.

Settling onto the couch, Tobias announced, “All right! It’s Kayla’s turn to pick!” The toddler squealed, pointing at the screen. “Kiss-mas show!”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Casey laughed.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Tobias assured. “We’ll watch all of our favorites tonight.”

A gentle snow began to fall outside as Rudolph appeared on the television screen. Snuggled under the blanket with their daughters on their laps, Tobias and Casey’s hearts couldn’t have been more full. They shared a quick kiss before they turned back to the TV, basking in the glow of their tree and the simple joy of being together.

It was the perfect Thanksgiving, after all.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

@choicesholidays New Traditions, Cuddling by the Fireplace @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 thankful, television, pies, happiness

Tagging others separately.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 16

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

When Bill and Ford are in the dreamscape together, their dialogue is written normally. But if Bill and Ford are communicating in Fords head without the mindscape, Bills dialogue is in "italics", and Fords dialogue is in 'apostrophes and italics'.

First - Prev - Next

CH.16

“Stan?”

“What’s up, stretch?”

“To my understanding, you’re familiar with a… sizable number of illicit substances?”

“Why, you looking for a plug?”

“A… plug?”

“Ya know, a guy who can hook you up with stuff.”

“...Stan, I’m not looking for a drug dealer.”

“Good, because all of the ones I know hate my guts.”

“Are you familiar with a substance called Ketamine?”

“Special K? Haven’t used it, but I’ve heard of it. I heard it kinda does what magic mushrooms do, but without all the visions.”

“It’s a dissociative non-opioid, anesthetic, and analgesic.”

“So it’s like heroine, but it isn’t heroine?”

“Ain’t exactly like that, but you can think about it that way.”

“What about it?”

“I’ve reached out to a colleague in psychology about your case - don’t worry none, I didn’t use names or details - she told me about a hypnotherapy that’s assisted by ketamine.”

“Hypnosis? Like, mind control?”

“That’s a popular misconception - hypnotherapy has been called hypnotic suggestion, but the goal is to bring the patient in question into a greater state of focus with less peripheral awareness, so they may relax and turn their attention inward. Are you following me, Stan?”

“It… blocks out background noise?”

“In a way, yes, just with thoughts. I don’t believe your memories are gone, they’re just buried under a lot of mental clutter and distractions.”

“And ketamine helps with that?”

“It’s a dissociative drug, it’s meant to help with trauma by approaching it without connecting to it. Would you be interested in something like that?”

“I thought you said you weren’t an actual therapist, where would you even get-.”

“I’m not going to be conducting the session, it’s going to be that colleague I just mentioned.”

“... I dunno F, I don’t have the greatest history with shrinks.”

“You’ve seen therapists before?”

“Seen is…a word.”

“What happened?”

“Do the words ‘padded room’, ‘cozy jacket’, and ‘solitary confinement’ mean anything to you?”

“... Institutions don’t do sol-.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Anyways, half of the therapists I ever had quit because of me.”

“What about the other half?”

“Ended up in the same looney bin.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Your friend turned crazy as soon as we met.”

“Stanford is not crazy.”

“Can you say that with a straight face?”

“He’s eccentric.”

“Wait, he's gay? I thought he wasn’t anything.”

“That isn’t what eccentric means. And- back to topic, please. What if myself or Stanford were there with you and we didn’t leave you alone with the therapist? Would you agree then?”

“...Alright, if you really think it’ll help.”

“Excellent! Thank you, Stan; we’ll get you right as rain before you know it.”

“...Did we really need to talk about this in the afterglow?”

“Yeah we did.”

(...)

“You guys are on your own, I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Stanley, it is just a boat.”

“So was the Titanic, and it disappeared forever.”

“There have been talks about another expedition to find it.”

“Fiddleford, please. Stanley, this isn’t the ocean, this is a mere lake. Scuttlebutt Island is only accessible by boat.”

“I told you I’d help you on your monster hunting bullshit, but you didn’t mention we’d have to get on the water to do it.”

“Come on, at least get closer than the tree line.”

“No!”

“You are being ridiculous right now. You have faced drug lords, Mothman, loan sharks, and the actual Jersey Devil, and this is where you draw the-.”

“I wouldn’t make you do something if you didn’t want to, PhD.”

“...Fine. Stay here and watch over our campsite at least. If we’re not back by tonight-.”

“Yeah, yeah start arranging your funerals, got it.”

(...)

“What are your theories so far on this cryptid, Stanford?”

“Based on descriptions I’ve gathered from local reports, and limited sonar exploration, I believe the description most closely matches a marine reptile that disappeared in the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event; a plesiosaur. Or, at the very least, a distant descendant.”

“Sounds less like cryptozoology and more like paleontology. Maybe we should call it something else.”

“Such as?”

“How about Oddopoddo?”

“No.”

“Scuttlebdis?”

“A mouthful, really.”

“The Gobblewonker.”

“We’ll workshop it.”

“Well kettle my corn, it looks like we’re close to the shore; sure are a lot of big muskrats here.”

“Fiddleford, we both know those are beavers and not nutria.”

“Wait- Stanford, stop. Is that big rock formation over there… moving?”

(...)

“Heya Fordsy! You’re invoking Think Fast?”

“Think Fast?”

“You know, when you meditate into the Dreamscape so you can think faster than the time around you. What you’re doing right now.”

“You’ve never called it that before, my muse.”

“I know but for exposition purposes I need to call it something. Whattaya need to Think Fast for?”

“The cryptid we’ve termed “The Gobblewonker” chased us on our boat and trapped us in the islands cove. In an attempt to catch us, the creature slammed itself into the cave wall and triggered a rock slide. We’re trapped in a cavern and it is filling up with water, and the entrance was the only exit we knew of. Fiddleford is also unconscious, and cannot assist me.”

“Ooh, how dangerous. So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I need to be out-of-body while my perception is sped up so I can check for more exits without worrying about water or gravity. 

“Out-of-body experience coming right up, IQ!”

(...)

‘Man, those guys have been gone for a while. They shoulda been back at least an hour ago.’

‘Whatever, PhD’s the monster hunter here, whatever trouble they get into he can probably handle it.’

‘...’

‘And even if he couldn’t, it’s not my problem. I’m only staying with him so I have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head. It’s not like I actually care.’

‘He did kidnap me and stick me in his basement after all. And sure his friend is hot and gives great benefits, but it's not like he tried to free me even when he knew it was wrong.’

‘...’

‘So what if they might be in danger?'

'It doesn't bother me.’  

‘It doesn't bother me.’

‘It bothers me!’

‘IT BOTHERS ME A LOT!’

(...)

“Fiddleford! Fiddleford, wake up!”

“Ow… my achin’ noggin-. Wha happened?”

“You saw the cryptid and fainted.”

“Where are we? Why’re we all wet?”

“We are trapped in a cavern that the Gobblewonker chased us into. There’s only one exit left - there’s a tunnel through and up this ridge, but it tapers off from loose rocks from a rockslide. You might be thin and flexible enough to squeeze through the hole that remains.”

“What about you?”

“On the other side I’d need you to manually move enough of these rocks so I can slide through as well. We can’t waste any time - the cavern is filling up with water faster than the exit could drain it.”

“Okay, I’ll get through slicker than owl sh-.”

“Fiddleford, this is no time for Southernisms.’

“Right, right. Yeeow, that’s smarts- I got most of both shoulders through Stanford but I’m gonna need a boost.”

“Alright, I‘ll push you on your count of three.”

“Gotcha. One, two, thre-! SWEET BABY JESUS-!”

“Are you okay?”

“I-. I think I w-wrenched out my damn shoulder…”

“Can you relocate it?”

“L-lemme try- HRK! No, not by myself. I’ll try to clear out the rubble with my good arm.”

“Alright but please, with the best of your ability, be quick.”

“Just keep talking to me, friend, I need to know that you’re still breathing back there.”

“It is not getting easier.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving. Just stay with me. We can do this.”

“I’m running out of headspace…”

“Come on- just a few more more rocks to go, I- Stanford? Stanford!”

“Sixer, I’m going to put your body in hibernation, it’s the only way you can preserve oxygen. It’s not cold enough for you to go into that state naturally.”

‘How much time does that buy me, Cipher?’

“About five more lines.”

‘Lines of what?’

“You’re about to find out.”

*water suddenly starts rushing out much faster, and a hand grabs Ford by the collar, dragging him out of the tunnel forcefully*

“-ay? Can you hear me, Stanford?”

“S… Stanley..?”

“Oh good, you came to on your own. I wasn’t gonna ‘kiss of life’ you.”

“Lord have mercy, you gave us a real fright there! You’re still shaking like a leaf on a tree, though.”

“Can you stand, Doc?”

“Y-yes, yes of course. Just- just help me up, please.”

“Yeah yeah, I gotcha.”

“It’s a good thing you came when you did, Stan, I wasn’t getting those rocks cleared fast enough.”

“What’s up with your arm, specs?”

“I dislocated my shoulder going through the tunnel.”

“Need help putting that back? It’s happened to me a couple times.”

“Actually, I think I’d rather- Stan?! Stan no-!”

POP

“There you go, good as new.”

“Ow…”

“Stanley?”

“What’s up?”

“Why’d you come here?”

“You guys were taking too long, figured something was up.”

“But… we are on an island, how did you get here?”

“Details ain’t important.”

“You’re also soaking wet.”

“Can it, PhD. I said details ain’t important.”

To be continued…

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Is this the FIRST flash forward fic where someone recognizes that they don’t know what the fuck is going on?!?! ⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

IS IT? Idk! First of mine, anyway.

75 for ⛅:

---

“It honestly wasn’t even that romantic,” Eddie says quietly. “I just wanted to…”

“Make up for lost time? Get another chance?” Chris asks. 

Eddie nods. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I forgave you years ago, Dad,” Chris says. “You’ve always been a good father. Always.”

Eddie covers his mouth with his hand. He sort of wants to sob. 

“Dad, it’s okay,” Chris says. He rests a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I promise it’s okay.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I know, I… I just thought I’d ruined everything between us, you know? And you’re… You’re my whole world, Chris. You know that, right?”

Chris smiles. His eyes are looking a little misty behind his glasses. He nods towards the house. 

“Not your whole world, I hope.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches. “Well, I mean… I’m sure, but… Look, Nico is really sweet. But I don’t know him. And, yeah, Buck means so much to me. He’s… Next to you, he’s my favorite person. But he and I… It’s not actually going to happen.”

Christopher looks surprised. “And why not?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m straight,” Eddie says. 

Chris snorts. 

“What? What’s that for?” Eddie demands. 

“You are not straight,” Chris says. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” Eddie insists. “You can’t just tell people they’re lying about their sexuality. That’s not cool.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “You really think you’re straight?”

“I really am,” Eddie replies. 

Christopher’s expression sobers. “Oh jeez.”

“What oh jeez?” 

“Just, uh… Well, like I said… As far as I remember, you and Buck get together, like, pretty soon,” Chris explains. “So… Why don’t you know you’re gay?”

“I’m not gay,” Eddie says. 

Chris winces. “You are though…”

“This must be an alternate universe,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“An alternate universe where everything happens the same way, except you’re gay and that’s the only difference?” Chris asks.

“Yep,” Eddie replies. Sounds reasonable enough to him. 

“How the hell did you un-repress so quickly?” Chris wonders aloud. 

Eddie scowls.

“Okay, how about this?” Chris sighs. “How did Buck realize he wasn’t straight?”

“Tommy kissed him,” Eddie answers automatically.

Chris nods. “Just a thought.”

“Are you telling me to kiss Buck? That’s super weird,” Eddie accuses. 

Another eye-roll from Chris. “I also had to tell you to ask out Marisol, so… Not the first time.”

Fuck. He’s right. 

“Well, if I’m gay, that was fantastic advice,” Eddie grumbles.

[misspelledwordswizard]

Good morning, afternoon or evening. I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to take the opportunity to make you one with one.

We all know that Time and Twilight are related in some way. So, my request was about how Time and Twi would react to finding out that reader is their descendant with some family and obviously platonic fluff

This is so cute! I believe both would be like "girl dad mode on" hehe Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

I had been in the group for a short time. I’m not sure how I ended up here, or why, I just know that suddenly I was having to hang out with nine heroes from Hyrule who all had the same name. Okay, I can handle a little adventure, I may be a farm girl, but being a hero has always been a dream of mine, it’s in my blood. Literally. 

From the moment that strange group told me their names, or rather, name, and explained that they came from different times, I was already sure that I was related to at least one of them. Well, at least I know that I’m descended from a hero named Link who saved Hyrule. 

The only problem is that I have no idea which of them I’m related to, especially when they all look so similar and the timelines are so confusing! That’s why I decided to keep this information to myself until I knew for sure. 

— Oh, Malon sent hugs to everyone. – Time said, as he read the letter recently delivered by the postman. I’m still curious about how he does it, but I’m more interested in the name unknown to me. 

— Malon? Who is this? 

— Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met her yet. Malon is my wife. – The Old Man answered me, with a somewhat proud smile on his face, he must love her very much. 

— Oh, and she’s the owner of the LonLon Ranch, back in the Old Man’s era! – Wind added, this fact might be nothing more than a curiosity for most, but it ended up meaning more than that to me. 

If Time is married to the owner of a ranch, it’s likely that his descendants inherited it, and over time it may have become my family’s ranch. Could the Hero of Time be my ancestor? 

— Oh, and maybe you’ve already come to this conclusion too, but Twilight also comes from a ranch, it’s not for nothing that we call him Rancher. – The Champion completed, and only then did I realize the obvious. 

But then, which one of them is my ancestor? I could try to find out more details about it, but it would take too long if I did it that way, so I decided to open my mouth, maybe they can help me. 

— Well, then it’s likely that I’m a descendant of one of you two. 

All eyes turned to me, I think the two in question almost broke their necks with that move. Was that really that surprising? Soon everyone was around me, curious. 

— Why do you say that? – Time was the first to ask. Fair enough. 

— Well, I always knew I was a descendant of a Link, I just didn’t know which one of you, and since I come from a ranch too, I think it’s quite likely. 

— Why didn’t you say so before? – Twilight asked, I figured this question would come. 

— I didn’t want to create expectations, or else I might upset everyone and not get any answers. But I still don’t know which of you two are my relatives. 

A silence settled in as everyone looked at each other, as if they were deciding what to say. They knew something. 

— Hm, how can we say this? – Warriors began. – Both of them! 

I blinked in confusion, many doubts swirling in my mind. Both of them? But they were quicker to answer them. 

— It turns out that I am a descendant of the Old Man, so either you are a descendant of him and my ancestor, or a descendant of both of us. – Twilight explained, and then things began to fall into place. Indeed, there were doubts in my family as to whether we were descendants of one or two Heroes, with this the answer becomes clear. 

— In that case, I’m almost certain that both of you are my ancestors, I really wasn’t sure if I was descended from one or both of you. – I explained finally, reaching the final conclusion. Wow, a descendant of two Links, who would have thought. 

They both looked at each other for a moment, they even seemed to be talking telepathically, but it seems that their choices of actions were mutual, because in the next second I was being crushed in a hug by two strong men. I can’t breathe, it’s definitely a hug worthy of a father. 

 I was finally released from the grip and able to breathe again, which I did dramatically, drawing laughter from some of the boys. 

— I can hardly believe this, is this how you felt when you met me? – The Rancher asked Time, with a smile on his face. 

— Hm, basically. Oh, Malon will love meeting you! I’ll write to her about it. – The old man seemed happier than I had ever seen him in the short time I had known him. 

I myself was still processing all of this. I had not just met one of my ancestors, but two of them? Before I knew it, I was smiling like an idiot. It was like I now had two more dads. Even if one of them was almost my age, which was a little strange. 

— Oh, when I can, I want to show you the family books about you, so you can check the information! – I said excitedly and they happily agreed with me. 

— The food is ready! – Wind said, drawing their attention. 

— Come, sit near us, we have a lot to talk about! – Twilight said, guiding me by the hand to the rest of the group. 

— Yes, little one, tell us everything about you and your family. – Time completed, resting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. 

Who would have thought I would have such a cool family walking with me all this time.