#i just know he’d be smirking the whole time
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Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.
“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.
You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face.
Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.
“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.
Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.
Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.
“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.
Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.
You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”
Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?”
Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.
“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.
Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.
You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.
"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.
You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.
Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes.
Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.
Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.
"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”
Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.
"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.
Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."
Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."
Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”
Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”
Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”
A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.
Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."
The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.
A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.
But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.
So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.
The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.
And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.
One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.
"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"
You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira.
“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."
Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”
Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now.
Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.
You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable.
“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound."
Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.
“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”
You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.
The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.
Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.
Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.
"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.
Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you.
Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”
Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded.
As you locked the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.
As you arrived outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager.
“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.
“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.
Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”
With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room.
It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.
What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out.
For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.
Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.
Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.
Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.
“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”
Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”
Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now.
“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.
Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.
“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.
“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”
You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.
“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”
You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.
You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.
Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn.
You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.
Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.
Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.
Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.
And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.
You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel.
Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.
As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.
Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.
You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?
Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.
And then there was Simon.
His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.
You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.
Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.
Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.
“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself.
But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.
You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.
"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.
While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.
"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.
"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.
"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.
"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.
Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."
Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."
Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.
“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”
“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.
Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place.
Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.
“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.
A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.
With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.
He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price:
“Good luck.”
Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.
By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.
You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny.
"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."
You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all.
"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.
You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?
You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”
“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.
"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table.
Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.
What the hell is his deal?
“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"
“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.
Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)
Reblogs appreciated!!!
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Sam seems convinced this is going to work, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s just a load of crap. Bobby’s even more convinced that it’s a whole lot of nothing, although he had admitted that he couldn’t read every symbol that Sam had added to this mess up devil’s trap. That didn’t mean it would work. It just meant that Sam had thrown everything he could think into it.
The real reason that Dean is going along with this, and probably Bobby is too, is because it means that Sam wouldn’t be alone after Dean is dragged to hell. Although standing in the middle of Bobby’s junkyard in a mess of spray paint isn’t exactly how he’d wanted to spend the last hour of his life.
“You really think Lilith is going to show?” he asks. He doesn’t know why she would. She just has to send the hellhounds, who’s howls and yips Dean has been hearing for days. And those things have never been stopped by any sort of devil’s trap.
“Yes,” Sam says, tense, not looking at him.
That’s another thing. For weeks Sam has barely looked at him, barely talked to him. Which sucks, because he’d really wanted to spend the last weeks of his life just looking and talking to and spending time with his brother, but Sam hadn’t been interested in that. At all.
He shares a look with Bobby, who just shrugs, hands tight on his shotgun.
Then the hellhounds come, just like he knew they would, no Lilith in sight. “Sammy,” he says, reaching out for his brother. Not because he thinks he can do anything, but because he wants to touch Sam one last time, one last memory to sustain him through hell.
Sam snaps out his hand and the hellhounds go skittering back, letting out pained yowls.
Dean stares, not understanding. “What did you – wait. You can see them?”
Only he should be able to see them. He’s the one that made the deal.
Sam still won’t look at him, damnit, even as Dean fists his hand in the back of his shirt. Sam's voice is low and pained when he says, “I’m sorry.”
Fear clenches in his gut. But before he do anything, there are demons surrounding the devil’s trap, appearing one by one in Bobby’s junkyard. They’d needed to take down his protections so Lilith could get in, but they hadn’t expected this. Of course she brought a freaking audience.
“Which one of you is Lilith?” he barks out, dragging Sam behind him. He refuses to let the last thing he sees be his brother hurt, or worse.
Dozens of demons stand there, human vessels with pitch black eyes. The hellhounds whimper and slink around them, but don’t seem interested in getting any closer. Dean can’t blame them.
Sam pries his hand off of him, stepping away before Dean can grab onto him again. He leaves the safety of the devil’s trap, which is fucking stupid. Dean’s lunging forward to stop him, but then there’s Bobby’s arm holding him back, face pale with a horror Dean doesn’t understand. He hadn’t looked like that even at Cold Oak, when they’d seen the gates open to hell.
The demons bow.
He blinks, not understanding what he’s seeing.
Sam is standing there in front of them, no protections, and they’re all bowing to him.
Except one.
Ruby is there, stupid red leather jacket and blonde hair and the smirk he hates so much. She walks around the demons up to Sam, who’s face is cold and expressionless. “She’s coming.”
“I know,” he says. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to kill you.”
“Promise?” she returns. “If this doesn’t work, death will be a mercy.”
Dean tries to push Bobby off of him, to get in between Sam and this bitch, but he doesn’t let go.
Then there’s a little girl in a white dress, head tilted to the side. “Something here belongs to me.”
Ruby flinches, stepping just slightly behind Sam.
“Not you,” she sneers. “You haven’t belonged to me in a long time, I fear. You really think that this boy can save you?”
“Sam,” Ruby says.
He sighs, like this is a trial, and raises his hand.
Lilith’s sneer drops from her face. Her upper body yanks forward, but her legs won't move. “You bastard,” she snarls, raising her hand in return, but nothing happens.
For the first time, fear flickers across her face.
Ruby steps forward, her own terror swallowed up by arrogance, by delight.
Dean tries to move, but finds he’s just as frozen as Lilith, even more so. He can’t twitch a single muscle. Going by Bobby’s unnatural stillness next to him, he assumes he’s in the same boat.
“Samuel is the heir of the light bringer,” Ruby says. “He has taken his birthright. You can’t touch him.”
What’s she talking about? What birthright?
What has Sam done?
“No,” Lilith snarls. “He’s nothing more than one of Azazel’s experiments.”
“A night, a full day, and then morning,” Ruby says. “That’s what he was. Then he rose on the third day.” She shoots a mocking look his way. “If it weren’t for his brother, he would have died nothing more than a failed experiment. But he has risen.”
No. What does that mean? What’s she saying? He had just wanted Sammy back.
Did he do this? Is this his fault?
“Ruby,” Sam says, a note of warning in his voice.
“Right, right,” she sighs. Then, back to gleeful, “Her eyes.”
Sam’s finger twitches and Lilith’s eyes bleed black tears.
She screams, the sound even worse because her vessel is a child.
Ruby lists thing after thing, pulling out her fingernails, peeling her skin. Her blood is black, none of it red, and the injuries shouldn’t really be hurting her but they clearly are. Dean watches helplessly as Sam tortures Lilith at Ruby’s command, enacting one terrible thing against her after another.
Lilith lies there, moaning, limbs broken, body in pieces.
“That’s enough,” Sam says.
“Enough?” Ruby hisses, turning to face him. “You know what she did to me! She – she–”
Sam’s stoic mask breaks, creasing in sympathy. Dean would prefer it wasn’t for a demon, for Ruby, but at least he now recognizes his brother. He raises his free hand to her head, his touch an oddly gentle counterpoint to everything he’s done to Lilith. “I know. But it’s enough.”
Tears glint in her eyes, just for a second, then she swallows and nods, stepping away from Sam’s hand.
He steps forward, crouching in front of Lilith. “You shouldn’t have come after my brother. Now we both have to live with the consequences.” His mouth twists. "So to speak."
Whatever she would have said in response is lost in her screams. Black smoke pours from her, then lights up, like a spark in steel wool, the fire moving through her reminding him almost of the Colt.
Lilith dies. Sam kills her, no Colt, no devil’s trap. Nothing but his own terrifying powers.
“Will you bow to me now?” he asks.
Ruby tears her eyes from Lilith’s corpse and her irritating fucking smirk slides back into place. “Now?” She steps closer, tilting her head back almost like she’s about to kiss him, then falls gracefully to her knees in front of him. It looks more like she’s about to give him a blowjob than a form of subservience, but he thinks that for a moment Sam almost seems amused. “I bowed to you first.”
“So you did,” he says softly. He raises his voice. “Move out. Casey. You know your job.”
“Yes, sire,” says one of the demons, voice almost familiar.
Then Sam’s walking away, Ruby just a step behind him. The other demons follow suit, the hellhounds not even glancing at Dean as they get caught up in the procession.
Sam still won’t look at him. He only sees the back of his brother’s head as he leaves him behind
The only demon left is Casey. He knows her, he recognizes her, the demon he’d been trapped with in that city full of sin, the one that Sam had shot and killed. He’d seen him kill her.
She gets to her feet, offering him a smile as she draws closer. “Hello, Dean. I bet you never thought you’d see me again.”
She steps right into the devil’s trap and presses a hand to him and Bobby each. As soon as she touches them, they’re able to move, darting away from her and leaving her stuck in the devil’s trap.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking, but he has more important things to worry about.
She turns to face them. “Samuel does not want you to die. He did what he had to do to ensure you wouldn’t.”
“The fuck you talking about?” Bobby asks gruffly.
“I told you back then I was ready to follow Sam,” she says, stepping out of the devil’s trap like it’s nothing, which she definitely shouldn’t be able to do. Bobby hadn't thought that this thing would be able to contain Lilith, but Casey’s nowhere near Lilith’s level. It should work on her just fine.
Bobby’s hand darts out, throwing holy water over her, but it doesn’t so much as steam.
She just looks amused. “That won’t work on me now. Neither will an exorcism, or any of the usual tricks. I have been purified.” She holds out her hand to Dean and it’s the Colt, the one that they’d lost when Bela sold it. “This is the only thing that will kill me now.”
“And you’re just handing it over?” Dean asks.
“I have my orders,” she says steadily. “Samuel wants you to have it.”
His entire body goes gold.
“What do you mean purified?” Bobby asks, shooting Dean a concerned look. “You’re a demon. Purifying you should kill you.”
“And was Lucifer a demon?” she asks. “I have taken the sacrament.”
Dean doesn’t know what that means, but Bobby’s expression shifts from disgust to shock to a horror filled curiosity. “You drank Sam’s blood?”
She did what?
“I have taken the sacrament,” she repeats, lifting her chin. “Samuel purified me.”
How the hell would Sam’s blood do that? Why had she drank it in the first place? She’s a demon, not a damn vampire. Dean pushes those questions aside and instead asks, “How are you even alive?”
“Samuel resurrected me,” she says. First he can kill demons, and now he can bring them back? “He knows we had a rapport and he thought it would be easier if it was me.”
“What would be easier?” he asks. His head is spinning and his heart hurts and he doesn’t understand anything that just happened. At least being dragged to hell would have been simpler.
She presses the Colt into his hands. “Samuel doesn’t want you to die. He knows this will be difficult for you, that you’ll make poor choices. I have my orders. I am to stay with you and keep you alive. We’re going to get to know each other very well, Dean.”
“Like hell,” he says gruffly, hand tightening as he takes the Colt and raises it to her head. “What’s to stop me from killing you?”
“The same thing that will stop you from killing Samuel,” she says and he flinches. “Nothing.”
He stares at her. He can’t bring himself to speak.
“You’ll have to hunt him down the old fashioned way,” she says casually. “But if you can find him, you can kill him. We’re all under orders not to touch you. Samuel won’t stop you if you want kill him. The same way I won’t stop you if you want to kill me.”
“Why?” he asks.
She shrugs. “It’s always been up to you, Dean. He trusts you. If you decide that he must die, then he’s willing to die.”
Dean sold his soul for him. He’s not going to fucking kill him.
But the Sam he sold his soul for wasn’t capable of doing that to Lilith. He wouldn’t have even wanted to be.
“What about your demon lover?” Dean asks, thinking of the priest that Casey had embraced and kissed, the demon she’d begged to spare Dean’s life before Sam had killed them both. “Sam bring him back too?”
Grief chases across her face before she smooths it away. “He will. If I am good, and obedient, and loyal, then Samuel will bring him back for me.”
Dean’s stomach rolls to hear Sam described like that, like some sort of tyrant or king. Like Dad. “You really believe that?”
Casey meets his gaze steadily as she echoes the words she’d said to him in that basement as she spoke of Lucifer, except now she’s talking about his brother. “I have faith.”
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ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ
✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader
✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.
✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again
✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora
🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread
✎ wc: 2.4k
Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch.
You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.
Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.
After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.
“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.
“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”
“Care to share?”
“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”
“Heavy is the cost.”
A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.
“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”
“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively.
“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”
You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…
“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”
“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.
“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”
Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.
“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.
“Yeah, but–”
“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”
With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.
“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”
The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely.
“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”
“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.
“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”
His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor.
“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.
As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.
“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”
“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.
“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”
He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.
“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.
“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.
“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”
He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.
“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”
He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.
You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.
You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.
“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”
“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”
“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”
Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.
“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”
“You don’t have t–”
“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.
You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.
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guard dog w/ jeong yunho
you live in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighbourhood surrounded by shitty neighbours who seem to make it their life’s work to make your life a living hell
the guy that lives across from you is an aspiring dj, emphasis on aspiring
unfortunately with him working the late shift at his supermarket job, it means he likes to practice late into the night
after the first 5 noice complaints, you just gave up trying to get a decent night sleep; part of you thinks he carried on just as one giant ‘fuck you’
the family that live upstairs aren’t great either
the son—timmy? tommy? who cares—thinks it’s fun to sit on the stairs with his buddies and smoke anything they can get their hands on
your air freshener is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind at them! well, that and the fact that quite frankly him and his friends terrify you
they watch you carefully as you make your way down the stairs, pushing through their congregation with a tight lipped, overly polite smile on your face
usually they don’t say a word, giving you little more acknowledgment than a hum as you thank them for barely making enough room for you to push through them
they make you nervous, you can’t deny that, and half of you thinks that’s the whole point
it’s like it’s some sort of strange power play to keep you from complaining to his parents, or worse, the landlord
not exactly a threat, but not not one
maybe it’s those nerves that made you open up to your friend one day
you’d met up with him at a local cafe, offering to pay for his coffee if he gave you half of the sandwich he’d brought with him
“they just spook me a little, y’know?” you mumble as a few crumbs topple over your bottom lip and onto your chin, “it’s a group of 10 over-grown teenage boys; it’s fucking intimidating!”
mingi just nods along, a small frown on his face as he listens to you complain about your living conditions for what seems like the millionth time
he gets it; moving is expensive, especially in the city, and you need to stay relatively close to where you work since you don’t have a car
it doesn’t mean he has to like it, though
“what about a guar—”
“a guard dog?” you cut him off, “mingi, we’ve had this conversation so many times before!”
it’s the truth; it seems like every single time you see him he brings up the same suggestion; scary dog privileges can get you very far in life according to you friend
“too mentally ill to look after another life, sure,” he reiterates the same point you make every single time, “but what about a hybrid?”
again, it feels like you’re in a constant loop of deja vu, destined to relive this conversation over and over again until you can finally afford to move out of that shit hole
“i can’t aff—”
“—afford a hybrid, yeah i know,” you roll your eyes as he finishes your sentence; jesus, he’s annoying, “but what if i told you i knew a guy?”
it sounds suspicious, but you won’t lie and say you’re not a little curious
perhaps you’re just a little too nosy to not lean in a little closer with a brow cocked a question of ‘who?’ primed on your tongue
“can’t say,” is all mingi says, “he doesn’t like people poking around in his business.”
he says it so nonchalantly as if he’s not your best friend who’s just announced that he knows someone who is almost definitely into some dodgy shit
you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t ask at least a few questions, but before you can even open your mouth, mingi beats you to it
“£200 will get you a hybrid though,” you almost choke on the sandwich at the price; this is some seriously dodgy guy if he’s selling hybrids for that little, “£300 if you start laying down preferences.”
“mingi,” you begin, about to beg him to get out of whatever business he’s getting himself involved in
“i’m assuming it’s a no?” he raises an eyebrow; you don’t even have to nod for him to understand your answer
he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender like he always does whenever you have this conversation
still, the smirk on his face as the conversation moves onto something else doesn’t fill you with the upmost confidence
a week passes by rather quickly; you work, you come home, you go about your evenings as normal, you sleep
nothing seems any different, and why would it? nothing about your life ever really changes without some sort of built up or expectation
and then your doorbell rings
you assume it’s just your neighbour again, around at yours to ask you some sort of stupid question that could easy be solved using a single braincell and google
you trudge to the door with a sour look on your face and a bitterness already growing on your tongue, just to swing it open to see… not your neighbour
not anyone you recognise for that matter
your gaze travels up from the chest you stand eye-to-eye with, traipsing lazily over the defined muscles on his neck before reaching his face
a jaw set in stone, two steely brown eyes and a pair of jet black dog ears are what immediately catch your attention
that and the fact that he’s very handsome; so much so that it takes everything in you not to stare at him with your mouth wide open
“are you going to let me in?” he says as if the hybrid’s arrival at your door was at all expected by you
“who are you?” is the only response you can
“your guard dog,” he replies, and just like that everything clicks into place
mingi, that bastard
“but i didn’t pay for a guard dog,” you argue, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him go back to whatever creep it is that mingi has gotten involved with
“well, someone did.”
he looks bored as he uses a hand to push you aside and steps past you into your tiny apartment, as if this is just another day for him
maybe it is; you don’t know much about hybrids, but you’ve heard enough stories to know just how many of them go through life without a permanent home
they’re tossed from pillar to post as if they’re not conscious beings with minds and lives of their own
it’s sad, the fact that they can be so easily tossed aside by so many people
it’s even sadder to find yourself relating to that feeling
you shut the door, twisting the lock with a finality that you’re not sure you understand
“what’s your name?” you ask as you turn to face him
“yunho,” he sighs
it’s a pretty name, you think to yourself
one that you wouldn’t mind saying over and over again for the… foreseeable future…
seriously, fuck song mingi
“well i’m—”
“i know your name, puppy,” your mouth snaps shut at the authority that laces itself into his words, “it’s all i’ve heard for the past few days.”
you zip your mouth shut, something in your brain warning you not to speak out of turn
something in your brain seems to forget that this is your own home; surely you can speak whenever you want to
“i wasn’t sure what to expect, but you seem to fit the bill,” dark pupils land on your body, dancing up and down your form before finally meeting your eyes, “a pretty thing like you in a town like this? i’m shocked you’re still in one piece.”
“how dare you, i—”
“where am i sleeping?” he cuts you off like your complaints are little more than the stubborn words of a child
it irritates you to no end, and yet you can’t find the words to fight back
there’s just something in his eyes that has you convinced that maybe you’re not the one in charge here
“the couch,” you point to the ratty leather thing, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that it’s the only thing you have to offer
he takes a glance at at for just a second or two before shaking his head
“no,” he replies, “you have a double bed, right?”
“a double—” your eyes go wide, “you’re not sleeping in my bed!”
“yes, i am,” he insists, condescending and annoying. you hate him already, “because i’m certainly not sleeping on that thing, puppy.”
it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s yet to use your name, instead sticking to that godforsaken nickname
if you thought it would make a difference, you might say something about it, but the stubborn arsehole has already shown enough of himself to make you understand that it would do very little
“the floor is available,” you spit, venemously
“and yet it tempts me even less than the sofa,” he smiles sarcastically and it boils your blood, “you’re just gonna have to get used to sharing.”
he takes a few paces forward until you’re having to crane your neck to look him in the eyes
you can practically feel his breath dancing across your cheeks as he lets out a low chuckle, a darkness washing over his face as he studies you
“you’re gonna have to get used to a lot of things now that i’m here,” warmth spreads across your cheek as his palm moves to cup it, “but that’s okay puppy, i can be patient while you learn.”
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez scenarios#ateez fic#yunho x reader#yandere ateez#yandere yunho
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this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣
Peace — Pedri González.
Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader
Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.
Word count: 1.47k+
Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.
A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.
You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.
It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.
Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”
At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.
María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.
“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.
“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.
Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.
“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.
The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.
“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.
Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.
Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.
When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.
“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.
Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”
“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”
Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”
Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”
“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.
But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.
“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”
Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“
“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.
He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”
“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”
“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.
“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”
Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.
You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.
You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.
Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.
“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”
He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”
“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.
His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”
“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”
Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”
That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.
“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.
“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”
Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”
Pedri groaned, “nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.
likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.
DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !
#pedri gonzalez#pedri gonzalez x you#pedri gonzalez one shot#pedri gonzalez x reader#pedri gonzalez imagine#pedri imagine#pedri x y/n#pedri x you#blurb#football#angst#pedri gonzalez angst#fc barcelona
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“MOVE ON”
Chris finally decides to try get over his ex
Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, fluff I guess, reader being a small fashion/makeup influencer, slightly shy!reader, mentions of drinking, kinda a cliffhanger
A/N: I have not wrote in a while, I’ve been focused on writing my book and not fanfics, so this may be quite shit.
It had been 2 months.
2 whole months since Chris’s ex had broken up with him.
And he was still moping around, barely leaving the house, and annoying his brothers, and they’d had enough.
Chris looked out the car window with a confused look, currently dressed in some basic jeans and a white shirt with a hoodie around his waist. Matt had told him, “Dress casual, we’re going out to eat,” but when the car pulled up in front of a lively house, with music blasting so loud you could hear it down the street, Chris realised he’d been tricked.
“Dude, I’m not going into that party.” He told Matt firmly as he turned off the car. “Yes, you are.” Was Matt’s response, leaving no room for argument. Nick butted in as he opened Chris’s car door for him, “You’ve been annoying us all week with your constant whining. Now you can go annoy others.” Chris rolled his eyes, but reluctantly got out the car and followed his brothers into the loud house.
As they walked in, Chris and his brothers were greeted by a lot of familiar faces. He gave a few waves and polite hello’s, but eventually snuck off to get a drink.
Walking up to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, his eyes immediately landed on the case of Pepsi’s left open, and he grabbed one before heading out the backdoor for some quiet. When he stepped out, he was met with a cool breeze, and then he saw a girl stood on the other side of the decking, drinking some colourful drink. He quickly tried to look away, not in the mood to talk to some girl he didn’t know, but she turned around and caught his eye. He gave a polite, but awkward, smile. “Hi.” He said, trying not to let his lips curve up at the sight of her shy smile. “Hi. You’re one of those triplets, right?” “Yeah, one of those triplets.” he repeated with a slight grin. “Which one are you? No, wait, let me guess.” She said, stepping up to Chris for a closer look.
Chris stared down at her as she tried to figure out who he was, giving her a lopsided grin as his hair falls over his eyes. “Are you.. Matt?” She finally says, making him let out a small chuckle and shake his head. “Nope. You want another guess, or?” He teased slightly, “..Are you Chris?” She guesses again, making him nod as he takes a sip of his Pepsi. “Yep. I’m Chris. And you are..?” He says, now feeling slightly bad he doesn’t know who this girl is. “I’m Y/N.” She says with a little smile, then quickly, and shyly, adds, “I’m not that known. But I do fashion and make up stuff on YouTube.” “Oh, that’s cool. I’ll have to check you out some time.” He responds, his eyes flicking down to her lips as her tongue darts out to wet them. He looks back at her eyes, then smirks a little at noticing her eyes flit down to his own lips.
After a while of talking, the two were now sat on the edge of the deck, watching the sun set together. Y/N was now in Chris’s hoodie, since it was cold, at least that’s what Chris kept telling himself. Chris finally piped up after a while of silence, “Soo.. how old are you?” He looked down at her head resting on his bicep. “Just turned 21.” She responded, lifting her head to look at him, and that’s when they realised how close they were. Her eyes flicked to Chris’s lips, and Chris’s flicked to hers, and then before either could say or do anything, Chris leaned forward.
Her lips were soft against his, her hands going to the ends of his hair and tugging gently. Chris groaned into her mouth, his own hands grabbing her hips and pulling her to straddle his lap. She moaned into his mouth at the sudden movement, and tried to press her tongue into his mouth. But Chris finally realised what he was doing.
Without warning, Chris pulled away and pushed her off him, standing up. “A.. are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked nervously, standing up and fidgeting with the sleeves of her his hoodie. “I have to go.” Is all Chris murmured in response, before quickly heading back inside. Y/N stood there awkwardly for a moment, before realising she still had his hoodie. She grabbed her glass and quickly followed him inside, pushing through the crowd of drunk and tipsy YouTubers, desperately trying to find Chris.
She finally saw the back of his head, and tried to push towards him, but the music changed, and suddenly another influencer friend grabbed her and dragged her to the dance floor, and Chris disappeared from view.
A/N(again): I wrote this in half an hour, and then Tumblr glitched and deleted the whole ending so I had to redo it😭
This is not proofread, if you see any, please inform me of any mistakes, misspellings, etc.
I will probably do pt.2 tomorrow, if you guys want it:)
#loudsturniolos#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo fandom#space camp#sturniolos#nick sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x you#sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo smut#the sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo headcanon#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo texts#christopher owen sturniolo
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VAMPIRE READER AND BEETLEJUICE?? 🙏🙏🦇🦇 READER NEEDS TO FEED 🙏
bite me
WARNING: Blood (vampire stuff)
PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Vampire! Reader
NOTE: Oh my GOD, thank you for this request. You don’t know how much I LOVE the idea of a vampire reader. I could write about this dynamic forever. Seriously, this is everything. <3 I know feeding off a dead guy makes no sense, but for the sake of this one shot.. pretend it does.
SUMMARY: You’re a vampire in need of a feed, and Beetlejuice is more than happy to oblige. After all, you two are lovers, and nothing quite says romance like a late-night snack.
The place was quiet, draped in shadows, the only sound the slow tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. A chilly draft whispered through the stone halls, carrying the faint smell of autumn leaves and earth. Normally, this was your favorite time of night—when everything fell silent, and the world seemed made just for you.
But tonight, there was a dull ache gnawing at the pit of your stomach. The familiar hunger for blood was creeping in, the kind you couldn’t ignore any longer. You usually planned ahead, so you’d have something to satisfy it before the cravings got intense. But lately, you’d been… distracted.
“Hey, bats-for-brains!” Beetlejuice's loud, nasally voice tore through the quiet like a firework. You winced, but couldn’t hide a small smile as he made his way into the grand, dimly lit parlor.
“There you are, babe!” he smirked, waggling his brows at you.
You rolled your eyes, but your voice came out softer than you intended. “Beetlejuice, I’ve told you about the shouting.”
He leaned closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I know. It’s why I keep doing it.”
The gnawing hunger in your stomach reminded you why you’d actually let him stick around tonight. Beetlejuice may be many things—irritating, vulgar, incorrigible—but he was also… tempting. And he’d always been more than willing to let you have a little taste, no questions asked.
“Beej,” you said, voice low, a hint of a growl slipping in. His eyes sparkled at that, and he leaned back, eyebrows lifting in mock surprise.
“Well, well! You’ve got that look in your eye. What is it, time for dinner?” He grinned wide, baring his teeth as if daring you to bite. He’d always found the whole “vampire” thing fascinating; you half-wondered if it was because it reminded him of the Neitherworld.
You nodded slowly, shifting closer. “If you don’t mind.”
“Oh, babe, you know I never mind.” He flopped back on the velvet settee, holding his arms out wide as if he were presenting himself to royalty. “Bite me! Go on, let’s make it dramatic!”
You chuckled, sliding next to him. “You never take anything seriously, do you?”
He shrugged. “Hey, if I took everything seriously, I wouldn’t be here, now would I? Besides—” he leaned in, voice dropping to a low rasp—“I know you love it.”
That was enough to make your hunger sharpen, and you leaned in, letting your fingers trace along the collar of his suit. His pulse beat under your touch, a little faster than usual. He might joke all the time, but he could never hide that shiver of excitement whenever you got close.
“Alright, hold still,” you murmured. He didn’t move, his grin widening.
You tilted his head back, baring the pale, almost lifeless skin at his neck. You bit down gently, letting your fangs sink in, and felt him stiffen, a low groan slipping from his lips.
“Holy… jeez, Y/N,” he breathed out. His voice was a mixture of awe and something softer, something almost tender.
The taste of him was familiar, a mix of the Neitherworld’s strange, earthy sweetness and just a hint of iron. It wasn’t like feeding from anyone else; it was distinctly him, and it left you feeling light-headed and exhilarated. You felt his fingers brush along your back, oddly gentle for someone like him, and you let yourself linger a moment longer than necessary.
You finally pulled back, licking the last traces of blood from your lips as he slumped back with a dreamy grin. “Now that’s what I call dinner and a show.”
You laughed, wiping your mouth as you looked at him sprawled out, clearly a little dazed. “You enjoyed that way too much.”
“Who, me?” he gasped, feigning shock. “You know I only did it for you, baby. But if I happen to enjoy it… well, that’s just a bonus.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He chuckled, pushing himself up from the settee and brushing off his suit, though it didn’t make much difference in its already-disheveled state. “What can I say? I’m a giver. Ain’t I the best boyfriend?”
You laughed again, unable to argue. As unconventional as he was, Beetlejuice really did make you feel alive—even in the quiet, empty spaces of your ancient home, he filled it with his energy, breaking the silence with his loud, brash love.
With him, you felt less like a creature of the night and more like someone who belonged, someone who was understood, even if that someone happened to be undead.
“Yeah,” you said softly, leaning against him, “I guess you are.”
“Aw, babe, you’re killing me!” he said with a grin, throwing an arm around you.
And for once, you didn’t mind the noise.
#beetlejuice#keatlejuice#beetlejuice movie#beetlejuice beetlejuice#beetlejuice x reader#keatlejuice x reader#tim burton#tim burton x reader#x reader#ask#request#fanfic#oneshot
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Can you please write a classic trope of reader overhearing black album/load James calling her “clingy”? Like guys in the band joke about it and he is fed up? So she stops coming over to studios and bringing food over, stops asking him to pick her up from work, if he wants to go to a bar, she always has a “headache”? Maybe it’s not until Bob Rock mentions that he likes when she’s over cause James always does a better job in her presence? - that’s when he gets that something is off???
I hope you like it❤
Hurtful Word
The studio has that same familiar smell—beer, lingering cigarette smoke, and the electric hum of amps running hot. I balance a bag with burgers and a beer as I push open the door, knowing James has been holed up here for hours. I just wanted to show up, bring him something he’d actually eat, something other than junk food and coffee. It’s a small thing, but I’ve always thought it meant something.
But as soon as I walk in, Lars glances over and smirks at Kirk. Their eyes flick to me, exchanging that look they always get when they’re about to make a joke.
“Damn, man,” Lars says, his voice loud enough to carry. “You got yourself a personal chef now? Can’t even get a sandwich without her delivering it?”
Kirk snickers, crossing his arms. “Yeah, dude, she’s here more than we are. Got a whole support team working for you, huh?”
The teasing makes my chest tighten, but I keep my head high, hoping James will laugh it off. But instead of a joke or a roll of his eyes, he glances at me, looks away, and mutters, “You don’t need to keep doing this. It’s kinda… clingy.”
Clingy. The word slices through me, and I freeze. I don’t even hear the guys teasing him further because the room goes silent in my head. Clingy.
Lars laughs. “Oh, she’s clingy now?” he grins. “Better watch out, man, she might end up moving in next.”
“Yeah, at least keep some space, Hetfield,” Kirk chimes in. “You don’t want to be tied down yet.”
My smile falters. I feel my face heat, and I force myself to nod. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover.” My voice is too tight, too fake. I turn to leave quickly, wanting to get out before anyone can say anything else.
I don’t even make it to the door before I hear James mutter something, but it’s too late. I’m already out.
____
James Hetfield POV
The next few days are strange. She’s not at the studio, hasn’t called, hasn’t stopped by. When I wanted to go at bar she said that she had a headache. I figured at first she’d just been busy. But by the second day, I realize it’s more than that. She’s actively keeping her distance. I try to shake it off, thinking it’s just her way of taking some space, but there’s an unease gnawing at me.
My concentration is shot. The guys are noticing. I can’t get anything right during practice.
Bob Rock finally pulls me aside one evening, looking at me like he knows something’s wrong.
“You okay, James?” Bob asks, his tone casual but concerned. “You’ve been off the last couple of days. It’s like something’s not clicking.”
I rub my face, trying to avoid admitting it. “Just tired, man. It’s been a long couple of sessions.”
Bob gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get it. But, uh... I’ve noticed something, and I’m gonna be blunt with you, alright?”
I look up, a little surprised. “What’s that?”
Bob leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “When she’s here, when she’s around, you play better. Hell, the band’s tighter, too. There’s something about the way you focus when she’s here, like she brings out the best in you. But now that she’s gone... it’s like you’ve lost your spark.”
I stare at Bob, the words hitting harder than I expected. She makes me better? I never thought of it that way. But Bob’s right. Every time she showed up with lunch or a little note, I’d felt more grounded. More centered. The music flowed easier. And now? It’s like the fire’s gone out. The sessions feel lifeless. I’ve been distracted, unfocused.
Suddenly, I feel a deep pang of regret. I hadn’t realized how much she was actually keeping me grounded, how much her quiet presence affected me. I’d taken her for granted, pushed her away with my stupid, careless words. I can’t take it anymore. Not the silence. Not the distance between us. I’ve been calling her all week, and every time, it goes straight to voicemail. It’s eating me alive. I don’t care how bad I fucked up—I need to fix this. I need to see her, to hear her, to make sure she knows that I’m sorry.
I jump in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. “Clingy” I said that word to her. And now I can't stop hearing it echoing in my head. The guys had joked, but I could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t laughing. I pushed her away, and now I can’t reach her.
I don’t even think as I pull up to her building. I park quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the door. My breath catches in my throat as I knock, then ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. I knock again, harder this time, and then… nothing.
I press my ear against the door, and I hear movement inside. My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s hope or desperation, but I feel the overwhelming need to be with her, to fix what’s broken.
Finally, the door opens just enough for her face to peek through. Her eyes are tired, and she looks… fragile. Like she’s been holding herself together, but just barely.
I swallow hard. “Can we talk?” My voice cracks a little, betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even step aside at first. For a second, I think she might slam the door in my face. But then she opens it wider, just enough to let me in. I walk past her, my heart hammering in my chest, and she follows me in silence.
The air between us is thick—heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. I turn around to face her, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. The look on her face… It breaks me. It’s like she’s shutting down, like she’s already made up her mind to walk away.
“I was stupid,” I blurt, the words tumbling out faster than I can control. “I shouldn’t have said that. "Clingy". What the hell was I thinking? You’re not clingy. You’re—God, I don’t even know how to fix this. I can’t take it back, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
She just stands there, her eyes cold and distant. I hate it. I hate seeing her like this—like she doesn’t care anymore. The silence between us stretches out, making the weight of what I said feel heavier than ever.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is quieter than I expect, almost like a whisper. “You made me feel like I was too much. Like I wasn’t even wanted. I was just trying to be there for you, and you… you pushed me away. In front of the guys, James. You made me feel like a joke.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now—how badly I hurt her. How wrong I was. She’s standing there, so small, her shoulders slumped like she’s carrying the weight of everything I’ve said.
I feel my chest tightening, my throat burning. “I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. You’ve never been too much, not for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re everything to me, and I—God, I don’t even know how I got so fucking stupid.”
I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out, but she pulls back slightly. “I don’t know if you even understand how much you hurt me,” she says, her voice shaking now. “You made me feel like I was suffocating you. And I can’t keep trying if you’re not going to see me. If you don’t want me around…”
The words trail off, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My heart shatters, and before I even realize it, I’m moving toward her, pulling her into my arms.
“I didn’t mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Please, don’t walk away from me.”
She stands still for a moment, then gives in, her body relaxing as she buries her face in my chest. I feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt, and it kills me. I never wanted to make her feel like this. Never.
“I miss you,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”
Her hands clutch the front of my shirt, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, tangled up in the mess of emotions between us. The silence is raw, but it feels real.
She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’ve gotta promise me, James. Promise me you’ll never do this again. That I’m not just some fucking joke to you.”
“I promise,” I say, my voice steady now. “I swear to you, I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it.”
And then, suddenly, I feel the need to say something else. Something that’s been weighing on me for a while. I pull her back into my arms, my hands gripping her tightly as I press my lips to her hair. “You know, I always appreciated you showing up at the studio. I never said it, but you always brought something with you—something that helped me focus.
When you’re there, I can think clearer, the music just comes to me better. It’s like I’m myself again, you know? And when you weren’t around these last couple of days, I realized how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I need you there. Not just because I like having you close, but because you make me better.”
She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I feel her body soften against mine. “I didn’t know that,” she whispers.
“I should have told you sooner,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I need you in my life. Not just in the studio, but everywhere.”
Her hand rests gently on my chest. “I need you too, James. But you’ve gotta prove it.”
“I will,” I promise, brushing my lips against her forehead. “Every day, I’ll show you.”
We stand there in the quiet of her apartment, the weight of everything between us slowly lifting. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of peace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that as long as I don’t let her go again, we’ll find our way through it together.
#metallica#metallica oneshot#metallica fanfiction#metallica fluff#metallica angst#jameshetfield#jameshetfieldxreader#james hetfield fluff#james hetfield one shot#james hetfield angst#nausicaamusiclover20
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siren songs and stolen kisses, pilot
ssask masterlist main masterlist
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*
The summer sun was barely up when I reached the docks. The familiar, slightly salty air of the Outer Banks felt thick with humidity as I made my way toward the HMS Pogue, where the sounds of my friends' laughter echoed over the water. I'd only known Kiara, JJ, John B, and Pope for a couple of years, but it was enough to make them my whole world. Growing up a Cameron usually meant that you stayed on the other side of town, but Kiara changed that for me, and ever since then, the Pogues were my family.
As I got closer, I saw John B adjusting the sail, Pope with a map spread out on his lap, and Kiara leaning against the railing with a grin. Then there was JJ, leaning casually against the side of the boat, his shirt already off, blond hair mussed by the breeze, and his usual smirk firmly in place. That smirk always made my heart race, but I’d never let him know that.
“Look who finally showed up!” JJ called out, grinning at me as I reached the edge of the boat. “Thought maybe you decided to stick with the Kooks for once.”
“Oh, please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Like I’d miss out on one of your harebrained schemes, Maybank.”
“Oh-ho, Princess Cameron decided to grace us with her presence!” JJ replied, extending a hand to help me aboard. The nickname — “Princess” — started as a joke about me being a Cameron, the high-and-mighty Kook family, but JJ managed to make it sound both teasing and… something else. I wasn’t sure what.
I rolled my eyes but took his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm as he pulled me onto the boat. He held onto my hand just a little longer than necessary, giving me that familiar, lopsided smirk before he let go.
“Alright, everyone here?” John B called out, getting everyone’s attention. “Kie, you got the cooler?”
Kiara held up a cooler filled with snacks and drinks, nodding. “Wouldn’t want to starve during one of your genius plans, would we?”
Pope, still scanning the map, shook his head. “John B’s plans don’t usually involve enough food for survival.”
I laughed, settling into my usual spot on the boat. JJ took his place next to me, and I felt his knee brush against mine. He did it so casually, but it was enough to make my skin tingle.
As we sailed out, John B filled us in on what he’d heard — stories of a wrecked boat washed ashore after the storm, strange lights, and rumors. Typical John B stuff. He was always looking for something, always chasing some mystery. It was just part of him, and despite all the times his plans had gone sideways, we all stuck with him. Today was no different.
We anchored near the marshlands and pulled up to an abandoned area that looked even creepier in the morning light. Mangled trees, debris scattered from the storm, and that eerie silence you only get in places humans have long abandoned.
“Alright, team, stay close,” John B instructed as he led us into the marsh. We walked through thick mud and twisted branches, ducking under vines and hopping over puddles.
As we walked, JJ fell into step beside me, leaning close. “Not too scared, are you, Princess?” he whispered, his voice low and playful.
“Please,” I scoffed, refusing to let him see how his teasing affected me. “This is nothing.”
JJ just chuckled, nudging me playfully. “Sure, sure. Just let me know if you need a big, strong Pogue to save you.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved him to the side, but couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my lips. JJ had a way of making even the creepiest situations feel like a game.
After what felt like ages, we finally reached the wreck. It was a beat-up old fishing boat, half-sunk in the marsh, but John B’s face lit up like he’d just found gold. He hopped on board, and naturally, we all followed, exploring the empty cabin and below deck.
JJ and I stuck together, rifling through drawers and storage boxes that hadn’t seen light in years. Every time he’d find something vaguely interesting — an old compass, a broken fishing rod, an empty can of beans — he’d hold it up like it was some incredible treasure.
“Look at this, Y/N,” he whispered, holding up a rusty pocket knife with a dramatic flourish. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Oh, a rusty knife? Be still my heart,” I replied, laughing.
JJ put a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Wow. You’re really hard to impress, aren’t you, Princess?”
I shoved him playfully. “Maybe if you actually found something cool.”
“Cool? You mean like this?” he asked, pulling out what turned out to be an old can opener.
I burst out laughing, and he joined in, his laughter echoing in the empty cabin. But before we could keep up our scavenger hunt, John B’s voice called out from above.
“Guys, I think I found something!”
We rushed up to find John B holding an old motel key, looking like he’d just discovered buried treasure.
“A motel key?” Pope raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Yeah, a motel key,” John B replied, grinning. “This could be a clue. Maybe my dad was here. We need to check it out.”
Before anyone could argue, JJ was nodding, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “Motel it is.”
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
By the time we reached the motel, the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the old, rundown building. The place was practically falling apart, its once-bright paint faded to a sad, chipped blue. Windows were either boarded up or shattered, and vines crawled up the sides like the place had been abandoned for years.
“This is definitely haunted,” Pope muttered as we crept through the empty parking lot.
“Oh, don’t worry, Pope,” JJ said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “If any ghosts show up, I’ll protect you.”
“Real comforting, JJ,” I scoffed with a grin.
“Hey, I’ll protect you too, Princess,” he added, flashing me a wink.
I rolled my eyes, but the nickname still made me smile. We entered the motel room, stepping carefully over peeling floor tiles and broken glass. John B immediately got to work, rifling through drawers and checking under the bed. Pope went to search the closet, while Kiara stood by the door, keeping watch.
“Why do I always get lookout duty?” she grumbled.
“Because you’re the best at it?” John B offered, not even looking up from where he was tearing apart a nightstand drawer.
Kiara shot him a glare but kept her post.
I walked over to a cracked window with JJ, where the two of us peered out, watching for any signs of movement. I felt a little thrill of excitement, the rush of breaking the rules, of being somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. And having JJ beside me made it even better.
“What’s the plan if we actually find something?” I asked, looking over at him.
JJ shrugged, giving me that mischievous grin. “Run, scream, or fight. Same as always.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Very reassuring.”
Before he could reply, a sound from outside froze us all in place. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, getting closer. We exchanged panicked glances, and John B motioned frantically toward the window.
“Out! The window!” he whispered urgently.
My stomach dropped as I looked out at the narrow ledge. We were on the second floor, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of shimmying along it. But before I could say anything, JJ grabbed my hand.
“Come on, Princess,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm.
He guided me to the window, helping me climb out onto the ledge. The height made my legs go weak, and I froze, feeling my heart pound in my chest. I froze when I saw how high up we were. The motel’s second story was a lot taller than I expected, and the drop looked… dangerous.
“JJ, I—” I started, feeling my pulse throb with the sudden surge of anxiety.
He gave me a soft look, sensing my fear. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you. Just trust me, alright?”
The footsteps were getting closer, and with no time to argue, I found myself climbing out the window and onto the narrow ledge with JJ by my side. The wind tugged at my hair, and my heart felt like it might burst out of my chest. I didn’t dare look down.
“Just look at me,” JJ said quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle. He placed his hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “Don’t think about the height. Just keep your eyes on me.”
His gaze was intense, his blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the height didn’t seem so terrifying. Slowly, I managed to inch forward, JJ staying close beside me the whole time.
When we finally made it to the end of the ledge and climbed down to the ground, I let out a shaky breath of relief. JJ grinned at me, a little too proud of himself. The world faded away for a moment — there was just me and JJ, inches apart, pressed together in the small space. His face was close enough that I could see every freckle, the tiny scar just above his eyebrow, and the way his gaze softened when he looked at me.
“You’re doing great, Y/N. Almost there,” he whispered with one of his hands still on my shoulder, and the other holding mine tightly.
I took a shaky breath, nodding slightly.
I opened my eyes again and saw his gaze still intense, his blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the height didn’t seem so terrifying. Slowly, I managed to inch forward, JJ staying close beside me the whole time.
When the footsteps receded and we heard the door click shut, JJ finally relaxed, giving me a grin. “See? Easy,” he said, but his arm stayed protectively around me, his warmth an anchor in the cold air.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “I don’t make a habit of risking my life out windows.”
“And yet, here you are, risking life and limb with me. Admit it, Princess — you like it.”
I just rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully. But deep down, I knew he was right.
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
We finally made it down from the ledge, our hearts still pounding from the close call. JJ grinned at me as we jogged away from the building, that cocky smirk in full force.
“See, told you we’d make it out in one piece,” he said, nudging my shoulder as we caught up with the others.
I rolled my eyes, though a smile slipped onto my face. “Oh sure, let’s just ignore that I was this close to falling two stories because of you.”
“Details, details,” JJ chuckled, tossing an arm around my shoulders. He gave a dramatic sigh, squeezing me. “You’d be bored without me around, Princess.”
It was the same teasing tone he always used, but there was a softness to it, a warmth that made me feel like I actually belonged here with them. I nudged him back, trying to play it cool, but I knew I was already hooked.
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
Once we were clear, we all slumped onto the deck, catching our breath. JJ looked over at me, breathless but grinning. “Not bad for a Cameron, huh?” he teased.
“Not bad yourself, Maybank,” I shot back, my heart still racing.
He laughed, reaching over to give me a playful shove. “Admit it. You love this.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, maybe I do.”
Once everyone got fairly settled, we set out across the water again, the thrill of the chase still buzzing through our veins. John B held up the motel key he’d found, waving it like a trophy.
“I’m telling you guys, this means something,” he said, grinning. “My dad was onto something, and now we’re onto it too.”
Pope crossed his arms, giving John B a skeptical look. “We’re onto a motel key, John B. Not exactly the stuff of legends.”
John B shook his head, determined. “I know it sounds small, but it’s a clue. The only clue I’ve had in years.”
Kiara chimed in, her face serious. “I get it, JB. We’re here for you.” She gave him a soft smile, one that we all echoed in our own way. We all knew how much this meant to him.
As John B steered us away from the shoreline, JJ reached into his waistband, pulling out something I hadn’t noticed before. It glinted in the fading light, and my eyes went wide when I saw what he was holding.
“JJ… is that a gun?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My stomach twisted with a mix of fear and shock.
JJ flashed that infamous grin of his, looking way too pleased with himself. “Mhm, picked it up back at the motel,” he said, his voice casual, almost like he was talking about pocket change. He held the gun up for everyone to see, as if he’d just scored the day’s biggest prize as everyone exclaimed, telling him to put it down. Even a butterknife was dangerous in JJ’s hands.
John B’s eyes narrowed. “You stole a gun? From the motel?”
JJ shrugged, clearly unfazed. “We were already committing about three different crimes just being there. What’s one more?”
Kiara crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. “JJ, that’s not just ‘one more.’ That’s a gun.”
But JJ just chuckled, tucking it back into his waistband. “Relax. It’s for protection. You never know what we’re going to run into out here, and it’s not like anyone’s going to miss it.”
I shook my head, feeling a pang of worry. “JJ, what if someone actually… like, I don’t know… comes looking for it?”
He turned to me, flashing that cocky smirk that usually drove me crazy in the best way, but right now just had me more on edge. “You worry too much, Princess,” he said, patting the gun at his side. “Trust me, no one’s gonna miss this thing.”
“You sure about that?” Pope asked, raising an eyebrow. “What if someone shows up with a warrant, or they track it back to us?”
JJ waved a hand dismissively, clearly not concerned. “We’ll be long gone by then. Besides, they’d never expect to find anything on a bunch of Pogues.”
John B sighed, clearly torn. “Look, I don’t like it either, but… if we’re getting this deep, maybe it’s not the worst idea.”
JJ turned to me with that little glint in his eye, the one that made it impossible for me to stay mad at him. “See? Even John B’s on my side. We’re fine.”
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
As we made our way back across the water, the sun started to set, casting orange and pink hues across the water. JJ stretched out beside me, leaning back with his hands behind his head, looking as carefree as ever.
“What’s the plan now, Captain?” he asked, glancing over at John B with a smirk.
“Now we go home and lay low until we can check this place out again,” John B replied. “We don’t want to make too much noise… and no one can know we’re doing this. Especially not Ward.”
Everyone nodded, understanding the unspoken rule: what we did as Pogues stayed between us. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of nerves. Ward Cameron, my dad, wouldn’t just be angry if he found out. He’d be furious. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
We spent the rest of the day laying low, sharing stories and planning our next move. Eventually, we docked back at John B’s place, exhausted but still buzzing from the excitement. As the sun set, we gathered around the firepit, passing around snacks and a few stolen beers.
JJ plopped down beside me, stretching his legs out and leaning back with a contented sigh. “Not a bad day,” he murmured, glancing over at me.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly, feeling the warmth of the fire and the lingering buzz of adrenaline. “One of the best.”
He grinned, scooting a little closer. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling lucky. I’d say this whole wreck hunt thing is our ticket to something big.”
“Think so?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “I mean, come on—John B’s dad, the gold, everything’s lining up. And you know what else?”
“What?”
JJ leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “No one’s better at this than us. No one’s got what we’ve got.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Right, a bunch of kids with no money, no backup plan, and a stolen life jacket. Real promising, JJ.”
But he just smirked, reaching over to give my hand a quick squeeze. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
We stayed out by the fire until the stars filled the sky, each of us sharing stories, dreams, and jokes until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. As we all headed back to our respective homes, JJ caught up with me, nudging my shoulder with his.
We walked in comfortable silence with each other for a bit until we got near to my house.
“I wouldn’t trade this for anything either.” I spoke into the cool July midnight, JJ ge gave me a rare, genuine smile, something soft and unguarded that made my heart flutter. “Good. Because I’d miss having you around to keep me in line.”
I laughed, shoving him lightly. “You’d be lost without me, Maybank.”
“True,” he replied, his voice warm. “Night, Princess.”
“Goodnight, JJ.”
As he walked off into the night, I realized that something had shifted. We’d crossed lines today, not just with the Coast Guard or with the hunt for the wreck, but something between me and JJ felt different. Stronger. And as I lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, I knew that this summer was going to change everything.
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
i loved writing this one omg, i hope you guys liked it too, lmk what you think!!
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x reader angst#jj maybank x reader series#jj mayback x reader#jj mayback imagine#obx4#obx#obx season 4#outer banks#outer banks season 4#john b routledge#sarah cameron#rafe cameron#cameron! reader#pope heyward#cleo obx#kiara carrera#fic series#new fic#fics#summer#jj maybank x cameron reader#jj maybank x reader fluff#topper thornton#obx1#obx2#obx3#outer banks season 1#outer banks season 2
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wriothesley handcuffing you to his bed frame with a vibrator strapped to your clit as he sits back and watch with a cigarette 😵💫ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི
#wriothesley#please#i just know he’d be smirking the whole time#dirty talking too#asking you how you feel#yeah? you like it baby?#of course you do#look at the way you’re clenching#oh i’m sorry i know you’re sensitive#want me to fuck you?#oh but you’re so small#we gotta stretch you first#make sure you’re all wet and ready for me#don’t wanna hurt you#🀣 lan!
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ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.
so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.
you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.
and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.
price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.
it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.
"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.
ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."
price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.
ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.
you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."
price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."
cod masterlist
#ghost angst#ghost#simon riley#simon riley headcanons#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost mw3#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#john price#captain price#john price x reader#john price headcanons#cod mw3#cod fanfic#cod headcanons#captain john price#captain price smut
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FIVE! - C.K.
Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.9k
A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.
4:37PM.
“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”
And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”
Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you.
He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table.
But that doesn’t mean he’ll-
“Babies.”
“Huh?”
“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”
Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”
All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.
At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”
Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too.
Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?
Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”
Right.
Of course.
Oh god, he thinks he could faint.
Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”
Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight.
“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”
“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again.
You notice - of course, you do.
Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way.
He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”
And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.
---
7:16PM.
Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.
“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”
“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”
He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”
You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”
Slam!
“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!”
If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos.
“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out.
“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”
Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”
“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”
And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”
“And?”
“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”
Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.
And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.
He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”
He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”
Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head.
And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”
“AW, MAN.”
Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso.
Mom?
So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst.
“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”
The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt.
So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”
Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”
---
9:02PM.
“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”
You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?
“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page.
“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”
Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-”
“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”
That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”
Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”
Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”
Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”
“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”
Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”
“Gramps-”
“Says who?”
“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”
“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”
And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”
The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.
Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better.
You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly.
All five of them, huh?
---
9:37PM.
SLAM!
“Cho, why’d you-”
“Shut up.”
You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with.
“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake.
This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”
And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”
Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy.
“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”
Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.
“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”
You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers.
“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”
Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.”
You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”
The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity.
And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-
“Fuck!”
And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering.
Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”
But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe.
“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”
He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose.
You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”
And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.
“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”
Oh.
Oh, shit. Five.
You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.
The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”
You did. How could you not?
You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”
“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”
As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-
“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”
And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching.
But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder.
“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-”
“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum.
And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high.
“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”
That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch.
“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”
And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”
Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.”
And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue.
“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”
Fuck-
You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins.
Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”
You broke him. You were sure you broke him.
The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate.
All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-
“F-fuck-”
“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”
Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.
From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”
Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-
“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”
Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”
And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”
If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.
Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut.
It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”
Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass.
It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course.
“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock.
“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”
You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.
He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-
“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”
Found it.
“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”
All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and-
And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago.
Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more-
“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”
Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?”
You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”
And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”
“As- fuck-”
“Mhm?”
“As many as you want- hngh-”
That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.
This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so.
Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.
The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.
“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-
Again. He was speeding his hips up again.
Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.
This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick.
Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.
“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”
---
“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”
The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”
Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”
Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”
“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“
Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”
“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”
Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”
“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”
The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.
Oh.
Wow. Five…really?!
“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”
A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo
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lessons learned | logan howlett
AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!
pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader
content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex
logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.
just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.
"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.
"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.
"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.
"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.
"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.
you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.
his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.
and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.
your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.
“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.
just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.
“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.
sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.
“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.
you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.
he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.
he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.
“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.
the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.
you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.
“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”
and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”
“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”
“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.
with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.
he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.
“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.
“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.
he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.
he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.
surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.
#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#wolverine#wolverine x you#drabble#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#weapon x#logan howlett smut#logan howlett xmen#xmen#xmen movies#xmen days of future past#wolverine smut#logan x reader
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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋
- sylus x reader
master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?
genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry
note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg tagging @sanriosatoru per request <3
Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.
The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.
What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.
“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.
And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.
“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.
“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”
Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—
“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”
“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”
And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.
“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.
He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”
“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.
He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.
It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.
You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.
“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”
You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”
“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”
Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”
“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.
Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.
No strings attached.
This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?
At least, you thought so.
. . .
“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”
Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”
“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”
“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”
The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.
A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”
“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.
Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.
This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”
Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.
“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”
You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”
Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.
You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.
But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.
“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”
“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”
Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.
“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”
Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.
“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”
Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.
But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—
“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.
Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—
“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”
Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.
His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.
“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”
It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.
“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”
If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”
“How lovely.”
“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.
He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—
“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”
His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.
As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.
. . .
"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.
"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."
"I can't sleep."
"Poor you. I can though."
You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."
"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"
Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.
"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.
"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.
"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."
"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."
"You're so damn insufferable..."
Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...
You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?
“Caw, caw, caw!”
“Mephisto, shush.”
Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.
You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.
“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”
Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”
You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”
“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.
It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—
Just as he had done when he pursued you.
Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.
Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.
You were petty, and you knew it.
“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.
Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.
You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—
Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.
“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.
In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”
In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.
You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.
“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.
It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.
Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.
Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.
You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.
And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.
"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.
"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.
"Or boss lady?" Kieran supplied.
Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.
They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.
"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.
He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.
But why didn't you come to him?
And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?
However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.
At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.
You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.
And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.
...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.
. . .
"Mm-hm, really?"
"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."
You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.
"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.
"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"
You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"
"Very much so!"
This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:
"Halt."
He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.
"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.
"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."
With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.
You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.
"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."
The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.
"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."
Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"
"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"
Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.
"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"
You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"
He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.
This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.
At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.
"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."
And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?
You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?
"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—
Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"
"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."
"Listen to me!"
He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—
"Move."
His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.
. . .
The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.
You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.
It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.
You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?
You got your answer sooner than you thought.
White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.
No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.
And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.
"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"
"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"
"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"
"Boss! We found her!"
"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."
"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."
You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.
Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.
"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."
What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?
Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—
"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.
You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"
"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."
Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.
And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.
When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.
At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.
"Awake?"
Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.
He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.
However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.
"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.
"How are you feeling?"
"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.
The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"
His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"
"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."
“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.
"Answer me."
"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."
"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"
Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.
"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."
"H-how... why..."
"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."
The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."
Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.
He gave it up to save you.
Still, it confused you.
“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”
You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”
There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?
Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.
But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.
"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"
You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.
"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."
Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.
You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.
“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”
His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”
Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”
And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.
Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.
“How long have I been out?”
“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”
“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”
Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”
Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.
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Ain’t as Good as I Once Was
warnings: old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics
“C’mon, girlie, if you want it, you’re gonna have to take it yourself,” Logan’s gruff voice says from below you.
You’re sitting on his lap, trying desperately to fuck yourself on his cock as he sigs back and watches you. Despite your begging, Logan refuses to do the work for you.
“I’m too old for this shit. If you’re that fuckin’ horny, you can take care of it yourself,” he told you smugly.
You sank down on his cock and have been trying to bounce on it, but the strain on your thighs is too much to reach a satisfying pace.
“Please, Daddy, can’t you just fuck me?” you whine pathetically. Logan smirks a bit and chuckles through his nose.
“I ain’t as good as I once was, dollface. I doubt my old bones can fuck you the way you want me to,” he says, not seeming apologetic in the slightest.
You know he’s full of shit. He may be old and gray, but his healing factor keeps him in peak condition. He’d be able to fuck you just fine, he’s just a crotchety old man who wants to see you suffer for his entertainment.
He places a large hand on your hip and starts gently guiding you, urging you to rock back and forth. You follow his movements and while it’s better than what you were attempting, it’s still not what you want.
“You’re a spoiled fuckin’ princess, that’s the problem. So used to Daddy takin’ care of ya, you forgot how to ride, is that it?” Shamelessly you bite your lip and nod.
You wouldn’t call yourself spoiled. Well cared for is a better term. Logan never lets his girl go to bed unsatisfied, and now he’s suffering from the consequences of his actions.
“C’mon, flip me over and fuck me,” you say.
Logan raises an eyebrow at you.
“Who do you think you are, givin’ orders? If I want you to ride my cock, then that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna fuck that pretty pussy with it until she’s had her fill.”
Logan lets go of your hip but you keep up with the same pace he set. With his hand now freed, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his cigar and lighter. He lights up and smokes it as if he were at the bar, not in bed, deep inside his girl.
He looks up at you, bored, as smoke pours out of his mouth. You’ve been riding the edge of just enough for the past fifteen minutes and you’re getting increasingly frustrated with Logan’s lack of help. You briefly consider being more of a brat in hopes of egging him on enough to punish you with a hard fuck, but with the kind of mood he’s in, it’s likely that the punishment would be stopping entirely.
You let your head hang down as you brace yourself with your hands on his chest. The solid muscle covered in gray hair is hot, unnaturally so, under your touch and you desperately want to feel that heat on your back while he fucks you from behind.
“Daddy,” you plead quietly.
“What’s the matter, dollface?” he asks, playing dumb like the tease he is.
“I can’t do it.”
Logan smirks around his cigar like you just said the magic words he’s been waiting to hear this whole time.
“What’re you saying?”
You pout down at him. “I can’t make myself cum. I need you to do it for me”
Logan, surprisingly, grins at you. “Bet you regret calling me an old man now, huh?”
You furrow your brows in confusion, but you quickly realize what he’s talking about. Before this all started, you pounced on his lap and asked him to fuck you. He told you he was busy reading his book, and in your usual bratty fashion, you replied, “What, you can’t get it up, old man?”
“I didn’t mean it, Daddy,” you whine. “I swear, I was just teasing you.”
Logan hums but makes no effort to move. “Guess you better start behaving if you want something from me.”
“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk back anymore,” you attempt to bargain.
You both know that’s about as empty of a promise as you could give, but Logan doesn’t seem to care. He prefers when you’re trouble anyway; it’s the game you play. He’s the grumpy and mean and you’re the spoiled, demanding princess.
Logan stubs his cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand and places both hands on your hips. He lifts you off of him with ease, something that never fails to amaze you, and sets you on the bed next to him.
He moves so he’s kneeling between your legs and holding them up around his waist, his cock lined up at your entrance.
“Spoiled fuckin’ rotten, you are,” he mutters as he pushes inside.
Logan always makes sure his girl goes to bed satisfied, no matter how much of a brat she is.
#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine smut#wolverine fanfic#wolverine#x men#x men fanfiction#x men smut#old man!logan
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Would they or would they not catch you…
Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.
He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.
‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.
‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.
‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.
You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.
Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀
Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.
He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.
‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.
‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.
You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.
Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.
However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.
Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.
‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.
‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.
Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.
What a sweetheart.
Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.
Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”
( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)
Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.
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