#i think i finally got my groove back maybe

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

BTS Memories of 2020 Daechwita MV Making Film cr. 0613data

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bloodlust | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implied sexism/objectification

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Dean was in the best mood you’d seen him in in a long time. He was grooving to his music as the Impala cruised along the highway; having finally fixed his baby. “Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know, Dean.”

“Oh, don't listen to her, baby. She doesn't understand us.”

Sam laughed. “You're in a good mood.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” Dean questioned.

“No reason.”

“Got my car, got a case; things are looking up.”

You hummed. “Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you’re little miss sunshine.”

He laughed. “How far to Red Lodge?”

Sam responded, “Uh, about another three hundred miles.”

“Good,” Dean smirked, flooring it.

***

The sheriff you and the brothers talked to obviously thought the three of you were insane when you questioned him about the decapitations and cow mutilations. He ordered you to get out of his office, to which you agreed.

Needing another plan, you and the brothers headed to the hospital in your respective suits and dress. You didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes raked over your body as you made your way into the morgue.

“Decorum, please,” you teased, swishing your hips as you walked ahead of him.

Dean walked closely behind you and read the nametag of the unsuspecting intern sitting behind the desk. “John.”

“Jeff,” he corrected.

“Jeff. I know that,” Dean chuckled. “Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.”

“But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation.”

“Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would—” he clicked his tongue and jutted his thumb behind him.

The intern looked terrified and ran away.

“Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead,” Sam responded.

“Yeah. So much fucked up crap happens in Florida.” He handed you and Sam pairs of latex gloves and tugged on a pair of his own. 

You pulled out a metal bed with a woman’s corpse laying on it and a box between her legs. 

“Alright, open it,” Dean told Sam.

“You open it,” Sam protested.

“You guys are pussies.” You grabbed the box and took the lid off, unfazed by the sight before you.

Dean cringed at the sight of the head, saying, “Well, no pentagram.”

“Wow. Poor girl,” Sam said.

“Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. Y'know, kinda like the moth in Silence of the Lambs.”

“Yeah, here, go ahead,” you smirked, spinning the box toward him.

“No, you go ahead,” he rebutted.

“What?”

“ ‘Put the lotion in the basket.’ “ 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You pried her mouth open and looked down her throat. 

“Dean, get me a bucket?” Sam grimaced. “I'm going to puke.”

You felt around her mouth a bit more and found strange grooves above her gumline. You pulled her lip up and pressed just above one of the holes, and a fang descended. “Oh, this fucking bitch.”

“She’s already dead, (Y/N), relax,” Dean told you.

“Well, this changes things,” noted Sam.

“Ya think?” you and Dean asked in unison.

***

You and the brothers decided to go for a few drinks after the discoveries you’d made and pick up the next morning. You immediately felt a man’s eyes on you and uncomfortably shifted in your seat. “You pickin’ up what I am?” you discreetly whispered to Dean.

“Yeah, definitely,” he responded lowly, sitting on a barstool. “How's it going?”

The bartender answered, “Living the dream. What can I get for you?”

“Three beers, please.”

Sam began, “So, we're looking for some people.”

“Sure. Hard to be lonely,” the bartender smirked. 

“Yeah. But, um, that's not what I meant.” Sam pulled a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and dropped it in front of the bartender, who took it hesitantly. “Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink—”

“Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night,” Dean chimed in.

“Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot— drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice.”

You and Dean thanked the bartender for his help and continued to nurse your beers. After a few minutes, you and the brothers continued to feel the man’s eyes on you. On high alert, all three of you moved for the door and noticed all that was left of the man was a smoldering cigarette in an ashtray.

You and the brothers walked out of the bar and past the Impala to lead the man who’d been stalking you away. You rounded a corner and jumped out of the way so the brothers could pin the man who’d followed you to the wall. Dean held a knife to the man’s throat and commanded, “Smile.”

“What?” the man asked.

“Show us those pearly whites.”

“Oh, for the love of— you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire," he replied nonchalantly.

You frowned.

“Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there.” Even his voice was unsettling.

“What do you know about vampires?” you asked.

“How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.”

Dean cocked his head and the man started to pull away. Sam pinned him down harder. 

“Whoa. Easy there, Chachi,” the man said. He slowly brought his hand up to his lips and revealed normal gums. “See? Fangless. Happy?”

Dean let him up. “Now. Who the hell are you?”

"Gordon. Gordon Walker," he replied. "You?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam; that's (Y/N)."

The man led you over to his car and pulled out an arsenal rack from behind his backseat. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot—”

Dean was on-guard. “You seem to know a lot about our family.”

“Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk,” the man explained.

“No, I don’t, actually,” you chimed in.

“You're a firecracker, aren't cha?” he asked. His somehow hauntingly melodic voice had you on edge.

You refused to respond.

“So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Been here two weeks.”

“Did you check out that Barker farm?” Dean questioned.

“It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though, they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.” You almost laughed at Gordon’s comment. 

“Where's the nest, then?” Dean asked.

“I got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin; tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.”

“We could help,” Dean suggested.

“Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.”

Dean groaned, “Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt.”

“Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out.” He got down into his car and leaned out of the window. “It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side.” He drove off.

“He seems like a world-class douche,” you commented as you watched his retreating red car.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam snorted. 

“C’mon.” Dean started off to his car.

“Where we goin’?” 

“To find ourselves a fang.”

***

Dean followed Gordon’s distinctive red car to a warehouse where you deduced he’d tracked a vampire to. 

You rushed up the labyrinth of ladders toward the sounds of a running mill saw and the two men struggling. When you arrived at the scene, you saw Gordon on the verge of getting his head taken off by the vampire and the saw. You and Sam each grabbed a boot and pulled Gordon away from the vampire’s impressive strength. Dean attacked the vampire and replaced Gordon with him, lowering the saw to the vampire’s throat. You watched in concern as blood sprayed across Dean’s face, and he seemed completely unreactive. 

“So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink,” Gordon chuckled awkwardly. 

***

You agreed to meet Gordon back at the bar you’d met him at after you cleaned Dean up. Sam went into the bar with Gordon to get a round of drinks started. You took hydrogen peroxide out of the first aid kit in the car and began to wipe Dean’s face off with it.

“I can do this myself, y’know,” he mumbled.

“I do.” You let a silence settle between you before you spoke again. “What happened to you back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean, you got fucking scary back there. I’ve never seen you like that,” you explained.

“I was just excited to get back to huntin’, (Y/N).”

“No, dude, I know you. You’re lethal but never… cold. You’re worrying me,” you admitted.

“Well, don’t, okay? I’m fine,” he said, lightly pushing you off him and taking the towel from you. He finished wiping himself off and began to walk inside. You were hurt but refused to let that show and followed him into the bar. 

***

Rounds deep of Gordon and Dean swapping stories, you and Sam were exhausted of the talk of blood, guts, and gore. Gordon soon circled back to Dean’s kill of the evening. “Dean,” he laughed. “You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Dean grinned.

“That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Was it, though?” you questioned, ignoring the way Dean’s gaze burned into the side of your head and keeping your eyes locked on Gordon.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Dean asked you.

“Fine,” you responded.

“Well, lighten up a little, sweetheart,” Gordon jested.

“He's the only one who gets to call me that,” you immediately stated firmly.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done.”

“Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess,” Sam chimed in.

“Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job,” Gordon said simply. 

"That's what it is, though," you broke in. "A job. I enjoy it, but bloodshed doesn't exactly get my rocks off." You kept your eyes locked on Gordon, who stared back.

Sam sighed and stood up. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“You sure?” Dean asked the two of you as you stood.

The two of you nodded wordlessly.

“Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you two later, alright?” Dean joked, throwing Sam the keys.

You walked out angrily and didn’t say a word to Sam on the way back to the motel.

***

“I don’t like that guy,” you muttered to Sam as you paced around his and Dean’s motel room. “I really don’t like vampires, but I really don’t like that guy.”

“Yeah, me neither. I’m gonna call Ellen; see what she thinks.”

“Good idea.”

Sam raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Ellen, uh, Sam Winchester… Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question. You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?... And?... Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess…” His face suddenly changed. “I— I thought you said he was a good hunter.” 

You watched curiously as he listened to another thing she had to say before bidding the woman goodbye. “I’m guessing she told you he was bad news,” you said once he’d hung up.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Great.”

“Sam, I hate vamps more than probably anybody. But Dean was just… so… not Dean when he took the head off that one,” you said.

“I know. It’s buggin’ me, too,” he sighed. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want one?”

“Just a water, please,” you replied.

Minutes went by, and Sam still hadn’t returned from the vending machine. You were beginning to get a little worried, but decided that maybe he just needed a second to himself. When ten minutes turned into fifteen, though, you really started to panic. You darted outside and looked over to the vending machine. Sam was nowhere to be found. You called Dean in a panic, saying, “Dean, Sam’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“What?! What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know!” You ran a hand through your hair. “He just went to get a drink, and now he’s gone!”

“Well, maybe he just went for a walk,” Dean tried.

“No, Dean, he would’ve told me. What the hell is with you? Normally, you’d be flipping out by now.”

“Watch it, (Y/N). Hang tight. We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

‘We. Gordon. Fucking fantastic.’

***

When Dean and Gordon returned to the boys’ motel room, you clung to the back wall, feeling very uncomfortable around Gordon and Dean’s new attitude.

Gordon was discussing strategies on how to get Sam back with Dean— supposing the vampires you were hunting was behind this— when the man in question strolled through the door.

“Sam?!” you asked, pushing off the wall and running to him. You hugged him tightly around his neck. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Can I talk to you two alone?” he asked you and his brother.

“You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?” Dean asked Gordon, who shook his head. You and the brothers exited the room and stood in the parking lot. 

“Guys, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt.”

“What makes you say that, Sammy?” you asked. 

“Where were you?” Dean questioned.

“In the nest.”

“What? You found it?” Dean questioned. Yours and his eyebrows shot up.

“They found me, man.”

“How'd you get out? How many'd you kill?” the older brother asked.

“None.”

“Well, Sam, they didn't just let you go.”

“That's exactly what they did.”

“No fucking way,” you said. “I know vamps, they wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, how do you explain the fact that I’m not dead, (Y/N)?”

You shrugged. “Good point. But what the hell, man?”

“Where is it?” Dean asked.

“I was blindfolded. I don't know.”

“Well, you've got to know something,” the older brother pressed.

Sam huffed. “We went over that bridge outside of town, but guys, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them.”

“Why not?” you and Dean asked.

“I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are.”

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood.”

“And you believed them?”

“Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch.” Sam held his arms out to either side of himself, encouraging you and Dean to examine him.

“Wait, so you're saying—” Dean cut himself off. “No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.”

“Why?” Sam huffed.

“What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job.”

“No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!” the brunet argued.

“Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.”

“Dean, I’m with Sam on this one,” you finally said.

“Really, (Y/N)? You?” he looked at you stunned.

“Yeah, dude. I trust Sam. I hate vampires more than the next person. But I just don’t feel good about this hunt all around. I say we leave these vampires and Gordon in our dust,” you responded.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” Dean scoffed. “Gordon?”

“Why are you so defensive of him?” you questioned, voicing rising slightly.

“Because he’s been going after these things for a year, (Y/N), I think he knows,” he said.

“Sam called Ellen. She says he’s bad news.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Dean looked at his brother. “You called Ellen?”

Sam nodded.

“And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, (Y/N). No thanks, I'll go with Gordon.”

“Right. ‘Cause Gordon’s such an old friend,” you scowled. “You think I can’t see what this is?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean grunted.

“He's a substitute for your dad, isn't he? A poor one.”

“Shut up, (Y/N).”

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that.” You stepped closer to Dean, face set angrily.

Dean wasn’t backing off. “Then don’t talk to me like that.”

The two of you were in each other’s faces, angrily staring each other down.

“You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this,” Dean grumbled, turning away from you.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Dean. I can see right through you. I know how you feel. I lost my dad, too. But nobody can replace him. That hole you’re feeling hurts; I know. But this isn’t what’s gonna fix it.”

He snorted humorlessly. “Okay.” He walked away from you and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He turned to his brother. “I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself.”

You followed him back into his motel room. “We are not done with this conversation.” 

Dean went to respond to you but noticed Gordon was gone before he could. 

“You think he went after them?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” you said. “Dean, we have to stop him.”

“Really, (Y/N)? Because I say we lend a hand.”

Sam chimed in, “Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that.”

“Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys.”

Sam gestured to the table where he’d set the keys earlier, but they were gone. “He snaked the keys.”

“Fucking awesome,” you grumbled, eyeing Dean angrily for his trust in Gordon.

Dean then had to hotwire his own car, cursing under his breath about how he’d “just fixed her.” “So the bridge, is that, uh, is that all you got?” Dean asked his brother as the three of you began to speed off.

“The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm,” Sam explained.

“How do you know?” you asked.

“I counted.” 

You smiled. This was another one of those moments where he reminded you a lot of Steven; he would've done the same thing.

The younger brother continued, “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right, and we hit the bridge.”

***

A while later, you and the brothers arrived at the farmhouse the vampires had been holing up in. You found Gordon circling a tied-up vampiress covered in scratches and her own blood. 

“Guys. Come on in,” Gordon grinned at you.

“You’re fucking sick,” you growled, eyeing him dangerously.

“You wanna get a handle on your girlfriend there, pal?” Gordon said to Dean.

Dean ignored his comment. “What's going on?”

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Wanna help?”

Dean sighed. “Look, man—”

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Gordon dragged his knife across her arm, cutting her deeply.

“Stop it!” you ordered.

“Hey, let's all just chill out, huh?” Dean said simultaneously.

“I’m completely chill,” Gordon responded coolly.

“Gordon, put the knife down,” Sam quietly pleaded. He went to step toward Gordon, but Dean held him back.

“Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill,” Gordon scoffed.

“Just step away from her, alright?” you tried.

“You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.” Gordon pulled out a larger knife. “I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane.”

You stepped to block Gordon from reaching the vampire. “Gordon, I'm letting her go.”

Gordon pointed the knife at your chest, stopping you. “You're not doing a damn thing.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this,” Dean broke in, concern rising in his voice.

“What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.”

“Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” He turned to Dean, but kept the knife trained on your chest.

“That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one—”

Gordon laughed. “Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

Dean’s awkward smile wavered. “You did what?”

“It wasn't my sister anymore; it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you.”

“Gordon, I had to do the same thing to my parents,” you said. “But my parents were trying to eat me. I think that’s a bit of a different circumstance than these guys who are just eating a few cows.”

“Then you should understand why I have to do this.” He pushed the tip of his knife into your chest, trying to get you to back up. You hissed in pain.

Dean immediately drew his gun and pointed it at Gordon. “Cut it out.”

“So you knew all along, then?” Sam continued provoking the hunter. “You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.”

Gordon chuckled. “Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it.” With no warning, he grabbed your arm and sliced it open. You yelped as he held your arm out with one hand and held the knife to your throat with the other. He shoved you toward the vampire tied up in her chair.

Dean cocked the gun and demanded, “Let her go. Now!”

“Relax. If I wanted to kill her, she'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point.”

“Oh, you motherfucker—” he held your arm over the vampire while you struggled, causing blood to drip on her face. She hissed, and her fangs extended. 

“Let me go!”

“You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty.”

The vampire controlled herself, though, retracting her fangs and turning her face away. You softened at the sight as Dean continued to try and intimidate Gordon.

“You hear her, Gordon?” Sam said. 

The vampire was stringing together a chant of “No” over and over again, trying to control herself.

You kicked Gordon between the legs and worked your way out of his grasp when the knife moved away from your neck. “We're done here.”

“Sam, get her out of here,” Dean told his brother. 

He did as told, and when Gordon tried to step toward him, Dean caught his attention with the gun. “Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon, I think you and I've got some things to talk about.”

“Get out of my way,” Gordon told you and Dean, who both had guns trained on him.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured.

“You're not serious,” the man scoffed.

“I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me.”

Gordon nodded, considering. He looked down at his knife and jammed it into the table. “Fine.”

Dean looked at the knife and then his gun. He pulled the clip out of his Taurus and set it aside.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Trust me on this one.”

You kept your gun trained on Gordon as he lunged at Dean. You couldn’t get a clear shot as the two of them rumbled around. You couldn’t lie, they were pretty evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat. Gordon grabbed his knife again and held it to Dean’s throat. “What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang? Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here.”

“I don't think so, you sadistic bastard.”

Gordon threw Dean across the room.

“Hey!” you said, cocking your gun. “Back off!”

“Stay out of this, sweetie,” Gordon told you before turning back to Dean. “You're not like your brother. You're a killer. Like me.”

Dean kicked Gordon down and hauled him up against the wall before elbowing him between the eyes. He pinned him under his elbow and slammed his head into another wall. “Oh, sorry.”

You chuckled despite the situation as you and Dean began to tie Gordon up.

“You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now,” Dean monotoned down at Gordon. He turned to you when he seemed to come back to reality. “Are you okay?” He put his hands on either side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded. “Fine.”

He grabbed your arm gently and looked over the cut Gordon had given you. Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

“Dean, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath. “You were right.”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to have a moment with you here,” he smirked.

You just smiled and looked down to the floor. “I know. Thank you.”

Sam came back into the room. “Did I miss anything?” he asked, noting Gordon tied up.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, not much. She get out okay?”

“Yeah. All of 'em did.”

Gordon groaned as he came back to. 

“Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?” Dean snarked, making you giggle.

Gordon just glared at him.

“Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days; have them come out, untie you.” He jammed Gordon’s knife into the table behind him.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real.” He hit Gordon straight across the jaw, knocking him to the floor. “Okay. I'm good now. We can go.”

As you exited the farmhouse, you grabbed at your arm that suddenly began to sting. 

“I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up,” Dean lamented.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us—” Dean trailed off and shook his head.

The younger brother’s expression softened. “Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.”

“I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t kill that girl, though,” you pointed out.

“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.”

“Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters,” Sam reminded him softly.

“Yeah. Well, 'cause you two are a pain in my ass,” Dean grunted.

“Guess we might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then,” the brunet smirked.

“Thanks,” Dean said honestly.

“Don’t mention it.”

***

You returned to the motel to quickly shower off and gather your things. Dean followed you to your room and looked down at your arm. “Gimme that,” he said.

“What? My arm?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“This is our thing now, I guess, huh?” you asked as he pulled a chair up to where you sat on your bed, using your first aid kid to clean your wounds.

“Oh, god, don’t try and make this cute,” he groaned.

“Well, it is!” you protested. “I like how much you care.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you began to work on Dean’s wounds he’d sustained from Gordon.

“(Y/N), I—” he began, “I was a complete asshole back there. I just… it’s what I told Sam, I mean, this changes everything for me.”

“I get it,” you nodded. “Me, too. You know I fucking hate vampires, and I wanted to smoke every last one of them. But I don’t know. I’m starting to see the humanity in ‘em, I guess.”

“‘S funny. Humanity in monsters.”

“I know,” you giggled. “Sounds stupid saying it out loud. But think about it. That chick reacted the way any regular person does with severe addiction. Just makes you think, y’know? Maybe they’re more like us than we ever thought.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t get all philosophical on me; I can’t keep up when you do.”

“Yeah, but you love it, though,” you teased.

“I do, actually,” he said, much to your surprise. “You’re so smart, it scares me sometimes.”

“Whoa, look at you and your compliments,” you joked, grinning.

“What?" he chuckled.

“Normally I'm the touchy-feely one,” you answered, giggling. “But thank you. It means a lot coming from you.” You finished wrapping a bandage around his knuckles. “There.”

He flexed them painfully in your upturned palm before playing with your hand in his. You looked up at him, breath hitching in your throat. “Dee, if you’re not ready—”

“(Y/N),” he said, leaning in to you. You surged forward and connected his lips with yours.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

[eiightysixbaby]

a holiday meet-cute

robin buckley x fem!reader

another fic for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas 😌 prompt: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute…

The mall is packed.

You can’t really be surprised, what with Christmas being in two short days. Turns out you aren’t the only person in town who waited until the last second to buy a gift.

You’d thought you had all of your gifts in order, until one of your friends decided to mention they got you an unexpected gift, and now you felt obligated to return the favor.

You loosen the scarf around your neck, unbuttoning your coat now that you’re safe from the elements. You glance around the mall somewhat aimlessly, letting your feet carry you. Your gaze snags on the bookstore, eyes lighting up at the sight.

Bingo.

Trailing inside, you’re met with shelf after shelf of books. You don’t really know where to begin looking, you just hope that you’ll know when you find the right one. You brush past other shoppers, eyes roaming over the spines and covers of various novels.

“Did you need help finding anything?” a voice asks, breaking you from your shopping trance.

You turn, fingers still gently grazing the spine of one of the books on the shelf before you, and when you meet the face of the salesperson, your heart skips a beat.

She’s gorgeous. Stunning, bright blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her face. Dirty blonde hair with bangs that suit her well. She looks at you expectantly, but there’s an almost nervous edge to her demeanor. Your eyes catch her name tag. Robin is written in blue marker, squiggles and dots and other designs littering the blank space around her name.

“Oh, um, no,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift for a friend,” you tell her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her stare.

“That one is actually one of my favorites”, she says, motioning with a nod of her head to the book where your fingers rest.

You follow her gaze, looking back at the book to pull it off of the shelf, though you find you don’t really want to stop looking at her.

“I-I’ve recommended it to all of my friends,” the salesclerk continues. “My friend Steve — he literally never reads — finally read that a couple months ago and he loved it. Talked my ear off about it afterwards. I almost regretted recommending it in the first place,” she laughs kind of nervously, chewing at her lip as if to keep herself from saying more.

You find the personal anecdote adorable, taking her recommendation seriously.

“Hm,” you ponder, staring at the cover of the book now in your hands. “I think you’ve just convinced me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes visibly brighten.

“Really?” she asks, her voice suddenly so quiet.

“Mhm,” you nod. “My friend, the one I’m buying for, hasn’t read in a while and they’ve been looking for something to get them back in the groove.”

The girl lights up, smiling so big. It takes all you’ve got not to reach out and trace the little laugh lines on her face. Instead you smile back at her, and maybe you hold each other’s gaze for a minute too long, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m so glad I could help,” she says finally, cheeks turning pink as her eyes dart away. “Do you want me to check you out?” she asks, before her eyes go wide. “I mean, like, ring you out. Not check you out like, check you out. Oh, god,” she trails off, but her embarrassment only makes you more smitten with her.

“That would be great,” you tell her, giggling softly to yourself as she nods and turns, skittering away like a mouse.

You follow, weaving through the shelves and up to the checkout counter. She takes your book, scanning it for you, and you find yourself tracing the freckles on her cheeks as she works.

“So, are you excited for the holiday?” she asks you. The small talk is welcome — anything to keep you here longer.

“I’m more excited now that my shopping is all done,” you reply. “Do you have any plans?” you ask, handing her the money for your purchase.

“Ah,” she says, expression turning kind of sad. “Not this year. I usually go back home for the holidays, but I couldn’t swing it this year between work and school.”

“Oh,” you frown, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”

There’s a pause, her pretty hands placing your book in a small paper bag, your eyes already on her when she looks up to meet them.

“You know, my friends and I are having a little get together. On— on Christmas Day,” you start. “Everyone always has a date and, well, I don’t have one.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.

“I know we just met and you don’t even know my name or literally anything, but… if you wanted to come with me—” you stop yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

But the look in her eyes is so hopeful, it encourages you to go on.

“We’d love to have you. I’d— I’d love to help make your holiday less lonely. Since you helped me so much today, with the gift.”

“Am I attending this party as your date?” she asks, emphasizing the last word cutely, her voice gone so soft you have to lean forward to hear her.

Your face warms, fingers fidgeting on the countertop.

“If that’s okay with you, Robin,” you say, and the smile that crosses her face at the use of her name makes you certain you’ve made the right move.

The line of customers behind you grows, people in a hurry to get out and on their way. You both recognize this at the same time, and you shoot her an apologetic glance.

“I’d love to come,” Robin says, flipping your receipt over and scribbling something down. “That’s my number,” she says, handing you the slip of paper. “I’m off at 7 today, if you want to call. Or anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

With the receipt clutched in your hand and the book tucked under your arm, you give her a small wave before leaving the bookstore.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you look down at her writing, the glittery gel pen’s ink making each number sparkle.

Christmas can’t come fast enough.

[injvns]

if words were flowers - zhong chenle

wc: 478

notes: based off the title of the curtis harding song :P enjoy!!!

if words were flowers, chenle would give you them all.

you don't know how long it's been since he opened his mouth, but it's been quite a bit since he shut it. 

he started off showing you clips of the latest golden state warriors game, raving about steph curry, then it went to how basketball has been going for him personally, to how if he had his own team he'd make daegal the mascot, and now he's planning a picnic date with you and daegal.

"do you think we could bring those chocolates you like or would that be too risky?" chenle's got his notes app open, writing down his groundbreaking picnic ideas, "ooh! or maybe i can get the macarons from the place in town instead!"

he looks so proud of himself as he backspaces to replace the words 'chocolate maybe??' with 'macarons from that one place.'

you can't help but smile at his excitement, it amazes you how chenle never lacks the imagination to keep endless conversations. words flow out of him like petals in the wind.

he hasn't stopped rattling off ideas, you honestly think his brain runs at least 20 miles faster than his mouth can keep up with. you also think it might be time to finally cut him off.

"babe, we can have a picnic whenever we want, slow down." you reach out to grab his phone from his hands, "figuring out all the details doesn't need to be done today."

he turns to you in sync with the taking of his phone, "but i was on such a roll.."

"and i'm sure you can get your groove back whenever," you put his phone on the table beside the couch before quickly turning back to him, "your thoughts are kind of endless, lele."

he scoffs, "you know you love my voice, don't even try to deny it." the sentence ends with an overly dramatic eye roll.

"i do love your voice, but i also hate you so they cancel each other out." you shrug nonchalantly as you say it, though your grin is anything but.

"then i guess i just have to talk so much that it overpowers the hate." he copies you, shrugging casually, but eyes smiling brightly.

"i guess you do," your head falls onto his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

chenle has never been one to stop talking around you, or at all. it's like his brain is running at full speed while his mouth is on autopilot, and today is no different. you can feel the vibrations of his voice as he talks, head rested where his neck meets his shoulders. it's relaxing, lulling you into a sleepy daze, but you'd rather die than give up listening to the soothing tones of chenle's voice.

if words were flowers, you'd cherish every single blossom chenle gifted you.

[luxthestrange]

Beastars Incorrect Quotes#36 Losers~

This is a song I feel resonates with...Pretty much Louis, Pina, Bill,Riz, Legos-But imagine singing this to the club members... herbivores and carnivores...

Y/n*After seeing and hearing everyone's pasts...while others were piece of work, You look at your clubmates, You sighs and stand on the stage*...

So things look bad, and your back's against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall and Can't face the world proudly and dopeless~

You've lost your way, ya think your life is wrecked Well, let me just say you're correct~

Louis*Is sitting down, feeling the worst then eyes widen confused at you* Wait, what?

Y/n*Smirking at him taking dancing steps back with a beat In your step,making a "L" with your finger on your forehead and looking at everyone* You're a loser, baby A loser, goddamn, baby You're a fucked up little whiny bitch~

Lous*Offended seeing you dance around him mocking him* Hey!

Y/n*Dancing around Bill now with a smirk* You're a loser, just like me~

Bill*Rolling eyes and gives you the bird* Thanks, asshole

Y/n*Smilling as you twirl Juno and making a "crazy" finger at Riz You're a screws loose Loser An only one-star reviews-er

Y/n*Twerking and laying dramatically in the floor pointing at Pina*You're a power-bottom at rock bottom But you got company~

Drama Club: This supposed to make me/Us feel better?!

Y/n*Looking at your own reflection and thinking about your past of your own past...and traumas* There was a time I thought no one could relate To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight! We're all livin' in the same shit-sandwich

Louis*Looking at his own hands at all the damage and hurt he caused others from his less-than-ethical deeds and now people close to him and what he did...just to survive for his father*...I sold my soul to a psychopathic freak -

Y/n*Snickers at that and raises a brow at him, Holding a hand out for him to take to spin him around gleefully and patting his cheek...then rolls eyes* Haha! And you think that makes you unique? Get outta here, man!~ We're both losers, baby We're losers, it's okay to be a~

As everyone stated their own truth about themselves

Y/n*Getting close to Juno with a smile* Baby, that's fine by me~

Juno*Smiles and starts to get into the groove and proudly singing* I'm a loser, honey~ A schmoozer and a dummy But at least I know I'm not alone~

You then finally reach Legoshi and hold your hand out for him to grab...which he does as you pull him into the light

Both of you in harmony: You're a loser, Just like me~

Legoshi*Leans on your back and looks at you affectionately* You're a loser, baby~

Y/n: A loser, but just maybe if we~

Both of you: Eat shit together, things will end up differently

Y/n*Both of you start to dance in each other's arms as you sing to him your feelings* It's time to lose your self-loathin' Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby Play your card, be who you are~

Legoshi*Swinging with you and stepping on beat*OOOoooooh~

Both of you holding each other's hands as you gaze into each other's eyes: A loser, just like meeeee!~

[number1jeonginstan]

Heyyy!!! I just wanted to ask if u could write this very interesting idea of mine. Chan making you roll a dice and what number you roll, is the amount of thrust you take. But you keep calling him daddy and he can't hold back anymore so he starts pounding u like a pup in the heat. NO PRESSURE totally fine if you don't feel comfortable writing this. But just thoughts. Have a nice day/night!💗

A/N: YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW EXCITED I WAS TO WRITE THIS. Like I wanted to write it as soon as I got this, but I got really sick so writing has been on the back burner, but I hope I did your ask justice with my writing. ALSO, my mentions are still open y'all so....

wc: 1.2k (not enough in my opinion 😔)

warnings: 18+ only, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, afab!reader, reader is called slut, daddy kink (obvi), some fluff as well because I love fluff

It was the first day Chan had off in ages. It was the afternoon and you were snuggled up on his bed, laying on top of him, head on his chest watching a movie. “All I’m saying is Andrew Garfield is hot.” You said with a shrug, eating another piece of popcorn. Chan was above you rolling his eyes. 

“You think everyone is hot,” he said stealing a sip of your drink. You lift your head from his chest looking up at him, “You can’t possibly deny it, look at him.” 

“I never thought you had a thing for skinny white guys, maybe I should stop going to the gym?” before he could tease you even more you quickly shouted out a “No!” 

“If you stop going to the gym, it better be for yourself, you know I love you no matter what,” you said giving him a big hug. He kissed your forehead as you both fell back into a comfortable silence.

An hour had passed and you both finally finished the movie. You got up from the bed, stretching your body since you were both lying down on the bed. Chan was still on the bed, stretched out like a starfish. “What should we do next? Do you want to play a board game?” you asked trying to put all the dishes you guys ate from earlier away. 

“Yeah we can do that, I think it would be fun,” you said whilst pulling out Monopoly from the stack of board games you both had accumulated over the last two years of Friday game nights with the rest of the members. 

“If you get park place again, I will never talk to you again.” 

“Chan stop being such a baby,” you said while rolling your eyes. “You love it though,” he said whilst pouting, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

You both finally got into the groove of playing the game, giggling at each other throughout it. “Hey! You are cheating, you can’t steal money from the bank.” Chan said swatting your hand away from the pile of money lying on his bed. “Oh come on,” you groaned, “I purposely gave you Park Place this time.”

“What! I won that place fair and square.” he looked at you with a confused face. “You keep telling yourself that Channie,” you said patting his cheek. 

“Oh, you wanna play that game?” he said while dragging you on top of his lap messing up the game along the way. “I was about to win” you whined. “Were you, were you really?” he said while kissing your lips. 

“Yes!” you said while kissing him back. “If you want to play a game, I have a great one for us to play,” he said with his signature smirk. “Mhm, and what would that be?” 

“We still have this die,” he said while rolling it in his hands, “let’s have some fun with it.”

“What do you have in mind” you asked looking up to him, still on his lap. “Why don’t we play a game? You roll the dice two times, and I multiply whatever it is.”

“Okay?” you asked a bit confused. “Sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish. Whatever that number is, is the number of times I’ll thrust into you.”  He said with a coy smile, “Don’t you think that will be fun baby?” 

You hesitantly agreed, thinking that, with luck by your side, you would roll all 5’s and 6’s, but you were so wrong. 

“Please Channie, I just need you to fuck me” you pleaded. You were underneath him, his cock rutting in and out of you to whatever you rolled the dice to. “Please, I need you in me,” you whined. 

“But I’m already in you unless you want me to stop?” he said while slowly slipping out of you. “Wait!” you stopped him and he stilled in you. You quickly rolled the dice twice, not wanting him to stop. “You rolled three twice, so that means 9 thrusts doesn’t it? Should we make the best of it sweetheart?” he said whilst rubbing your clit. 

You just nodded, wanting to feel him inside of you. He slowly thrust inside of you, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock, every vein as your pussy clenched around him. “You are such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

His words made you clench around him, moaning at the way he was hitting so deep inside of you. You could cum with just his cock inside of you, the stretch being so big that he had to always prep you so well, just to take it. But him fucking you so sensually and slowly was getting you nowhere. 

“I need more” you moaned, feeling him particularly deep inside of you. “Awe, is my cock not enough? Do you need to get fucked like a slut? I don’t think I can do that baby, you gotta take it like a good girl. Maybe roll higher next time and I can fuck you faster.” 

It was torture and he knew it, you were squirming underneath him. “Roll again,” he said while kissing your forehead and you did “6 and 6 this time sweetheart, guess I’m going a bit faster.” 

He began pounding into you and you couldn’t control yourself “Fuck daddy, it feels so good.” You didn’t mean to say that, you had never called him daddy before and you had no idea how he would react, before you could even apologize, he began pounding into you.

“Fuck baby, you like that? Do you need daddy to fuck you til you forget your own name?” you just moaned, he was fucking you so good your tongue was loling out to the side. “Come on baby, answer daddy. Do you like my cock fucking into you like the little slut you are?” 

“Yes daddy, so good daddy, I’m gonna cum” you said as he began circling your clit simultaneously. You couldn’t control yourself, he was pounding into you so well 

“Fuck baby, be a good girl and cum for me, cum on daddy’s cock okay. You can do that for daddy right baby?” you just nodded, your walls squeezing him tighter as he started thrusting inside of you harder. “Will be a good girl for daddy, gonna cum on his cock” you hiccuped as you finally felt that strand in your stomach snap. 

You were cumming all over his cock as he continued to rut inside of you. “Where do you want me to cum baby? Where do you want daddy to cum?” 

“Inside of me please” you whimpered and he started pounding into you. “Fuck want daddy’s cum don’t you baby? Want daddy to fill you up.” 

“Fuck” he groaned as he stilled inside of you painting your walls with his hot cum. He laid next to you, still inside. “Where did the daddy come from baby?” he asked kissing your forehead. “I have no idea, but I’m glad I did because I think that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you said with a giggle.

[iovetecchou]

My Heart ⧸ Bram Stoker

༞ Contains...! a pinch of fluff, angst and smut (holy shit), unintentionally plot-heavy, strangers to friends to lovers, realization of feelings, being in denial of said feelings (from bram), confessions, self-loathing (from bram), reader offering bram the love he deserves! consent, kissing, making out, nipple play, soft touches, praise, needy!reader, oral (receiving... obviously, considering that- nvm) face sitting...

Bram uses "mo chroí" as a term of endearment for the reader, which essentially translates to "my heart" the title of this fic- woah, shocker!

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 5,873 words.

"Y/N, get my boots!"

"Y/N, where is my lunch?"

"Y/N! I don't have all day, you know."

This charade was getting old.

You were at Fukuchi's beck and call. His little servant and it made you sick. You didn't choose this life for yourself— no, you never would have done this to yourself.

You were a Hunting Dog at one point, but it felt so long since your glory days. The moment you witnessed what Fukuchi did to your former colleague— Tachihara, your fate was sealed.

You had two options: join the Decay of Angels or die, like all the sorry souls before you— and all the ones to come.

Well, you chose the former. But being a part of the Decay of Angels is not what you pictured. You were a glorified secretary to Fukuchi. You had to tuck your tail between your legs day in and day out.

Swallow your pride and follow orders.

You loathed it with every fiber of your being. However, you would be lying if you said nothing good came out of this arrangement.

There was Bram, your last-ditch effort for hope.

You hadn't thought much of the strange coffin Fukuchi hauled around. The same casket that inevitably caused chaos. You knew it couldn't be the coffin but rather— what was inside the tattered wooden box that caused disarray.

One day, curiosity got the better of you. Fukuchi was in his living quarters, presumably resting as you finished your tedious paperwork for the day. It was already past midnight by the time you finished up.

You stood up from your desk, stretching your limbs before trekking toward Fukuchi's office. Usually, you would place the paperwork atop his desk and then go on your merry way. That is what Fukuchi permitted you to do, at least. But tonight was… different.

That unruly coffin propped up against the furthest wall in the darkest corner of his office caught your eye. Most people who worked under Fukuchi's thumb would not have given it a second glance.

But you? You could not take your eyes off it.

The gold cross plating that decorated the outside of the coffin caught the light the second you creaked the office door open. The glimmering plating caught your eye. Beckoning you to come closer- drawing you in.

Before your brain could catch up, your feet carried forward, inching closer toward that dimly lit corner. All you could think of was, what could be inside that tattered box? That same question flickered in your mind for weeks, and you were finally about to get your answer.

Your trembling fingertips grazed over the smooth finish on the casket. They danced over the golden cross before trailing lower. Your persparated palms felt each flank of the coffin before you found the groove you were skimming for.

You took a sharp intake of breath. Fukuchi would kill you if he saw you right now. You thought, before diminishing that idea from your mind. Face it, he was going to kill you eventually. So you might as well continue with your plan. You got this far. There was no turning back.

It took all your might to drag the weighty wooden door of the coffin open. But once you did, your breath hitched.

It was… a man? A pretty one at that. This strange man was most definitely sleeping. He had prominent veins running along his lashline, you noted. His hair was pure white, long, and all out of place, nearly covering half of his visage. He also had two identical scars adorning his pallid cheeks.

He was mesmerizing, statuesque.

Maybe this man was artificial? He was as still as could be, and you found it tricky to disclose if he was breathing. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no warmth radiating from his frame. You could not control the way your fingers rose to his form. Ghosting over his face, only a few centimeters away from grazing his cheek.

"Who are you?"

A gruff voice pulled you out of your trance. You stumbled back, watching in disbelief as the mysterious man before you opened his lids, revealing the most bewitching crimson eyes. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as you struggled to find the words to respond to him.

"Hey… I asked you a question."

The alluring man before you sounded more annoyed this time. His eyes never once left yours. It intimidated you more than you would have liked to admit.

"I'm nobody, really! I'm sorry for disturbing you—I'll be going now."

You babbled, smoothing your shirt down nervously before turning on your heel. You wanted nothing more than to leave this office and forget this night ever happened.

"Stop."

His compelling voice ceased you in your tracks. You should have just left, but you didn't. Instead, you obeyed his demand.

"How long has it been since my last awakening?"

You quickly turned to face the stranger in the corner of your boss's office.

"Huh? Last awakening…? I'm not sure I understand what you are talking about. I'm sorry."

He gave you a pointed look. Finally, he let his eyes wander over your frame before ultimately letting out a deep sigh.

"Tell me, do you possess a legendary treasure? It Contains musicians in a box, the size no bigger than a fist, a wireless radio."

Your eyes widened. This man considered a wireless radio to be a legendary treasure…? Just who was this guy?

"Um… I don't own one of those. I do, however, have my phone to listen to music. If… that's what you are interested in?"

Before he could question the foreign words you just uttered to him, he watched as you pulled a peculiar device from your pocket. You unraveled your earbuds, trekking dangerously close to this strange man.

Slowly, you position the earbuds in each of his ears. Making sure they were in place, all the while crimson eyes followed your every movement. Before he could ask you the meaning of this—music surged through the strange gadget, flooding his senses with pleasant beats.

You watched as his demeanor softened upon hearing your playlist. He closed his eyes in contentment, letting the melody overcome him. You were confused, to say the least. Not only was this man trapped in a coffin, but his only wish was to listen to music?

"Are you… a goddess?"

You couldn't help but giggle at his terminology. Your laughter pulled his lids open once more.

"Far from it… I'm Y/N, and you are?"

"So 'nobody' does have a name after all. I'm the King of the Dead, Bram Stoker."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, as you slightly tilted your head in confusion at his fascinating introduction, politely putting your hand out to shake his own.

"We cannot do that. I assumed you were aware of my… circumstance?"

Your grin wavered, more bewildered than ever at his words. Bram let out a drawn-out sigh at your expression. The realization of your cluelessness ultimately dawned on him.

"Pull this sheet from off me."

Bram sounded peeved as he gestured down toward his chest with his gaze alone. Hesitantly, you did so.

Your hands trembled, nails digging into the tattered raven cloth that concealed Bram moments ago. You could not accept what you were witnessing.

Bram was missing over half of his body- most of his frame was replaced by a large sword. It plunged through his whole being. All that remained intact was the upper half of his torso and head.

"Horrid, right? This is what my old enemy, Fukuchi, did to me."

Before you could control it, tears spilled past your lash line. Staining your burning cheeks. Bram looked taken aback as you wept for him. His mouth slumped open as he quizzically observed you.

"How awful… I'm so sorry. I hate Fukuchi so much. Of course, he would do something like this…"

Your tears flowed as you covered Bram up with that worn-out black sheet. Your hands came up to cup his cheeks, caressing the paired scars that decorated them.

Your touch pulled a gasp from both your lips.

Your breath hitched the second you came in contact with the frigid porcelain skin of his cheeks.

And Bram felt dizzy upon feeling the warmth radiating from your palms.

He could not remember the last time he felt such a gentle touch. His mind staggered at the contact.

"Would you… Perhaps mind if we conversed for a while? It seems you and I both have a lot of catching up to do."

That first encounter between Bram and yourself was ages ago. But an unforgettable one at that. You two stayed up all night, filling one another in on everything.

Bram informed you all about his ability and Fukuchi's use of him. You told Bram all about how you ended up here and what went wrong.

That night felt like a dream, something you only could have made up in your subconscious. Each night, you stayed at work later and later. You waited for everyone around you to dissipate so you could see Bram again. Talk to him for hours, learn more about his life, memorize him.

Your secret meet-ups went on for months. You could care less about getting killed by Fukuchi if you ever got caught. All you cared about was Bram. He was your only fragment of hope in your sad excuse of a life. The closer you became, the more your feelings developed for him.

On the surface, Bram came off as aloof; bored, and uninterested in anything. But that could not be further from the truth. Everything Bram loved, from his human life, was stolen from him. The idea of ever feeling warmth or love again was drained from his mind. That was until you appeared.

After five months of sneaking around and spending your nightfalls listening to music with one another, sharing stories, and growing close, you ultimately acknowledged your feelings for him.

"Bram, I… I need to tell you something."

You nervously fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, not daring to meet Bram's enchanting gaze. You sat atop Fukuchi's desk as Bram quizzically stared down at you from where he was propped up inside his coffin, against the back wall; as usual.

"Hm? What seems to be the matter, Y/N?"

His tone was delicate, solely for you. Quickly, you shot up from the desk. If speaking was too challenging, then… You had no choice but to show him.

Bram observed as you hastily approached him. Your hands darted up to his cheeks, holding him delicately like that first night you met. But before Bram could ask you- once more, what was wrong, you kissed him. Bram gasped against your lips, crimson orbs blown wide as he peered down at you. He watched you intently as your lips molded to his.

He could not accept what was occurring. Again, that head-dizzying feeling washed over him as you pulled away from his lips. You hurridly relaxed your head atop his shoulder, leaving a small kiss on the side of his neck before whispering,

"I love you, Bram."

His mind slowly digested the pure and earnest words you uttered against his neck. Bram finally had something— or rather, someone grant him motivation, hope for his less-than-ideal living circumstances— and life itself.

Bram felt unloveable. How could he not? He was quite literally half the man he used to be. But, you… loved him?

Your face felt hot as the seconds ticked on by. You nestled your face further into the juncture of his throat and shoulder. Placing delicate kisses on his frigid neck. Your hand continued to soothe over one of his cheeks as your other hand came up to card through his slate locks.

“I… do not think someone as magnificent as you should love a terror like me. You… will be met with misfortunes if you involve yourself with the likes of me. It would be soundest if you forgot about me altogether. Turn back now, before it's too late.”

His tone was low, barely inaudible if not for the proximity. You removed your head from his shoulder, meeting his ruby gaze for the first time since your confession.

“You said that is what you think… but- is that what you want?”

Bram let out a sigh, lids fluttering shut for a moment. He swore that if he looked at you for any longer, he would succumb to you. Your devoted countenance was too much to endure for Bram.

“…No.”

You brought your other hand back up to his fair visage, soothing over the identical scars residing on his freezing cheeks.

“Then tell me, Bram… what do you want? I know this whole situation- with Fukuchi, was against your will. I know you do not care to hurt others or cause destruction. You are not a monster. You never could be in my eyes. I love you for who you are in here,”

You gently tap his forehead to emphasize your point. His eyelids fluttered back open at your hasty display.

Bram knew this was wrong. He should not feel so attached- so compelled to you. But, you overtook his mind; you were his solace.

Your voice was the most desirable melody. Bram wished he could record your tellings and listen to you speak, over and over until it branded his brain.

He undoubtedly loved you for as long as he could remember. You were the first to show him compassion, hear him, and care about him in god knows how long. Bram did not even think he was capable of loving again. But you were quite the anomaly. You crept into his soul, taking over his every thought before he could intercept.

Bram watched as your eyebrows rose in concern. His silence was making your heart pound rapidly against your sternum. The fear of being rejected by him bubbled up in your abdomen, making you feel queasy.

He let out one of his signature sighs before his strong voice sliced through your doubts.

"What I desire… is for you to kiss me, once more."

Without any hesitation, you gave Bram what he wanted.

You pushed your lips against his with more confidence this time. Your mind surged with delight at the pleasant sighs Bram let out in between kisses. Your heart was thumping out of your chest, and Bram could hear it. Loud and clear.

His hearing was heightened, after all. Any physical reaction or sound you let out, he caught.

You were completely lost in the moment. The only thing tugging you out of your trance was the feeling of your lungs burning for air. As you pulled away to catch your breath, your forehead rested atop Bram's. Your warm breath tickled his wet ruddy lips.

There was that head-dizzying feeling again.

Bram's eyes flickered over your melodic expression. He wanted nothing more than to keep you happy like this for as long as he could. He knew your time together was limited, but he did not have the heart to break it to you. (Quite literally-)

When Fukuchi had no more use for Bram, he would annihilate him.

It was inevitable.

Bram hated feeling so helpless. He had not bothered to put up a fight all those times his old enemy threatened to end his life if he did not comply.

But now, Bram had someone to fight for.

He wanted nothing more than to shield you from harm. Take you away from this wretched place and live a comfortable life with you.

That was nothing but a fairytale. A nice thought, but unattainable.

If only he could remove this sword, regenerate his body, and get you out of this mournful circumstance. Be the man he yearned to be for you.

Not a day went by when he did not fantasize about wrapping you in his arms, hugging you tightly to himself. Bram often dreamt about holding your hand in his, wondering what it would feel like to interlock fingers. The warmth from your palm would compliment his icy grip, he reckoned.

The feeling of your nose bumping against his own pulled him from his thoughts. You beamed brightly at him, caressing his cheeks in that gentle way he loved so much.

And in that moment… he lost all composure, succumbing to you entirely.

"I… love you, Y/N. More than you could ever fathom."

You grew bolder as more months flickered by. You began sneaking Bram out of Fukuchi's unsettling office in the dead of night, taking him back to your living quarters.

You did not have much to work with. Your room consisted of a bed and a desk. Thankfully, with your very own private bathroom connected. You tried to liven the place up as much as you could, but Fukuchi did not permit you to leave the premises very often. He only authorized your leave if he needed you to run tedious errands for him.

You'll never forget how Bram's face beamed brightly the moment he saw your safe space. A change of scenery was pleasant for him. He felt select, bearing witness to such an intimate detail of your life. The handmade stars and planets that decorated your ceiling caught Bram's eye almost instantly.

You explained to him that they were your only treasure remaining from your life when you were free. The first time you laid Bram to rest atop your bed, turning off the lights before making yourself comfortable beside him, was remarkable.

Your gaze was glued to his face, not wanting to miss his reaction when your little galaxy began to illuminate. Bram gasped softly as the stars and planets twinkled in the dusk. You could have sworn his eyes were sparkling as he gaped at the ceiling.

Since then, it was custom for Bram and yourself to rest atop your duvet, gazing up at your artificial stars as you talked endlessly. Sometimes, you would doze off, but Bram would wake you with a stifled cough and a call of your name before dawn.

He desperately longed to lull himself to sleep beside you, considering how much he valued his slumber, but Bram knew that was a dangerous game to play. If Fukuchi discovered what you both were up to, well, game over.

You cherished those precious seconds when you awoke to your lover's voice. Before reality sunk in... and you had to scramble up to sneak Bram back to his coffin. A twinge of guilt always twisted in your gut as you placed your lover back in his confinement.

But each time he gave you a gentle smile, reassuring you with the whisper of his voice,

"We will be together again once the sun lowers. Chin up, mo chroí."

Bram's crimson orbs lingered on your lips before trailing up, capturing your mesmerizing gaze. A habit your lover picked up on to signal that he yearned for a kiss.

Your hands came up to his visage, fingertips dancing along his earlobes as you inched closer toward his lips. Bram's eyes grew tenfold as you now caressed the tips of his ears, pulling a strangled groan from his throat.

The noise slipping from your lover's mouth caused heat to swirl in your core, heartbeat accelerating as you closed the gap. Your lips captured his with more intensity than ever before.

Bram would be lying if he said he could not feel your desire for more through the embrace. His mind went numb, ruby eyes fluttering shut and allowing himself to succumb to you.

You quickly pulled back, offering him a muted smile and a wave before closing the casket. Enveloping Bram in that lonesome void he despised so greatly.

That evening; as you lay in bed beside your lover, your mind was elsewhere— Bram noted.

"Something is bothering you, yes?"

He whispered, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned your head to meet his gaze. Your faces barely centimeters apart.

"Bram, do certain touches make you feel… good?"

His eyebrows rose, lips curling into a pout; giving your question much thought.

"Good? Good, how?"

Ah, you should have known he would ask you to elaborate further. But what you were trying to ask was crass. Maybe it would be best if you—

"Would it be okay if I show you what I mean by… good?"

Bram noticed you were being bashful, piquing his curiosity even further.

"If that is what you desire… then yes, mo chroí."

Slowly, you sat up, positioning yourself in front of your lover. Bram's watchful gaze followed your every movement. His eyes trailed lower as your shaky hands came to fiddle with the two buttons of his tattered white shirt.

"Is this still okay?"

Breathlessly, Bram answered with a quiet,

"…Yes."

His mind raced as you undid the few remaining buttons on his shirt, followed by his torn overcoat. You pushed back the flimsy fabrics past what remained of his torso. Your eyes curiously observed his newly exposed flesh.

His neck was malleable, adams apple bobbing in his throat ever so often. His pale collarbones were prominent, complimenting his broad shoulders. You were surprised to see his lithe chest was still intact. His complexion was so fair; the only pigment that blotted his form were his rose-colored nipples. Right below his chest was where the sword resided, shrouded by a vacant void.

"Beautiful…"

You whispered, driving yourself closer toward Bram. One of your hands came up to caress his cheek, tipping his head to the side. Your breath tickled his neck as you placed chaste kisses on his throat. Your lover choked on a whine as your hands trailed higher.

Gently, you took one of his pointed ears in your grasp, rubbing the cool flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

"Does this feel good?"

You questioned. Your breath tickled Bram's throat, causing the hairs on his nape to stand. He could feel his composure slipping from your gentle touches.

"Considerably, yes."

Bram answered matter-of-factly, trying his hardest to keep his tone level. But you made it nearly impossible with how your teeth grazed his feeble throat. Experimentally, your lips closed around his neck, right underneath the spot where the skin of his earlobe meets his throat.

"Hah…"

Bram groaned, scoring his bottom lip with his teeth to keep any more obscene sounds from stumbling out. His reaction only encouraged you further. You moved slightly higher, kissing up toward his ear opposite from the one you caressed.

You nibbled on his lobe gently. Your warm tongue darted out, trailing up his sensitive flesh and pulling a whine from your lover's lips.

"Christ…"

His mind went fuzzy from the pleasure you granted him. Bram's eyes rolled back into his skull as you continued your assault on his erogenous zones. He secretly condemned himself for healing at an inhumane rate, wanting nothing more than for your marks to last. But alas, that was not feasible.

His crimson orbs fired open as he felt your thumb swipe over his nipple. His head slanted downward, attempting to get a better view. You handled Bram with much consideration, taking your time exploring every part of his form that made him tick.

You sneered against the tip of his ear as his rosy nipple hardened beneath your thumb. Your forefinger was quick to follow alongside your thumb. Pulling the pebbled bud with the pads of your fingers, twisting the sensitive flesh ever so slightly.

You left one last nip to his ear before sitting upright, desperately yearning to see his blissed-out expression. And you were not disappointed in the slightest.

His slate locks stuck to his cheeks and forehead from the perspiration. Bram's cheeks were flush as his mouth hung agape, drool seeping past his lips. Your lover unabashedly mewled for you as you continued your assault on his nipple.

You gazed at him intently, absolutely hypnotized by him. Seeing Bram in this state of euphoria was better than you pictured. And you imagined what it would be like to have him under you more times than you would like to admit.

Your fingers flowed over toward his other peck. You gently caressed his frigid flesh before tweaking his other nipple between your digits. Bram cried out this time at your ministrations. His head lulled back in pleasure as you crept your face closer toward his.

“Please, look at me.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Bram's ragged breath tickled your lips from how hard he was panting. But only a moment passed before his lids were peeling open once more.

You beamed brightly at him before capturing his lips with yours. Bram’s eyes stayed open; watching as you boldly swiped your wet tongue along his bottom lip. He happily complied, allowing you to explore his mouth further.

Bram’s mind was racing. You both had never taken things this far before. But it was exhilarating. He could not shake this tingly sensation that overlaid his form. Your touch sent shockwaves of electricity through him.

Only when you let a moan of your own out against his lips did he trail his gaze downward. Bram’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief as he watched your hips glide against the bed. You were rocking yourself into the mattress, almost on instinct; as you deepened the kiss further.

Your tongue traced over his fangs, treading with caution as the point of his teeth felt razor sharp with just the slightest bit of pressure from your appendage. You could feel your lungs burning, begging you to pull away and catch your breath.

“Mo chroí.…”

His voice was faint. Bram was still trying to regain his composure from that heated make-out session. Warmth crept up on you as you gazed into his ruby eyes.

You huffed, catching your breath as your hips faintly humped against the duvet.

“Would you allow me to return the blessing, Mo chroí?"

Your face heated up at his insinuation, not expecting such bold words from Bram.

"Y-Yes… but, forgive me for asking, how?"

Bram let out a deep sigh, muttering something under his breath. He averted his gaze from your own, seemingly struggling to find the words.

"Remove your garments and… sit on me. If you are pleased with doing so, mo chroí."

"Sit on you—?"

The tables had turned, and now you were the one feeling clueless. His eyes locked onto your gaze once more before he said matter-of-factly,

"Sit atop my face… let me taste you. It would bring me immense joy to bring you pleasure."

Heat surged in your core from his request. Your mind went blank; all you could do was nod in agreement. Not trusting your voice right now.

Your shaky hands came to your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly. Your eyes never once left his. You unclasped your bra next, feeling tempted to cover yourself- but you refrained. Your cheeks felt hot as you watched his crimson orbs hungrily consume the sight of you stripping before him.

He was quiet as your fingers came down to your waist. You leaned back atop the bed, lifting your hips and slipping off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You felt sheepish being bare before your lover for the first time.

Bram's alluring gaze continued to rake over your body. You were enchanting. Perfect, in every way, and all his for the taking.

"You are exquisite, mo chroí."

His soft words pulled you out of your head. Your worries and doubts slipped away as he stared at you lovingly, a heartwarming smile adorning his visage.

"Come here."

He whispered, giving you his grace to inch closer. You slowly positioned yourself on your hands and knees, crawling your way up his frame. You pushed yourself off your hands, spine straightening as your thighs trembled on each side of his face.

Bram could smell your essence from the proximity. He could not help the way his eyes fixated on your slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

"Sit."

"But… are you sure? What if I hurt you—"

"Please, sit."

His plea for you only turned you on further. You scored your bottom lip with your teeth, letting your lids flutter shut before relaxing your lower half. Your hands twisted beneath your duvet the second your pussy made contact with Bram's lips.

Your lover wasted no time darting his tongue out, experimentally prodding at your entrance. You whined from the cool wet sensation, knuckles turning white from how fiercely your hand twisted into the duvet.

Bram's tongue greedily lapped up your essence, groaning against your pussy from your taste. His head went fuzzy; being enveloped by you in this way was exhilarating. He was not well versed in such lewd acts, but he gave it his all to please you.

His lengthy tongue gradually began thrusting in and out of your dripping hole. Your hips bucked forward on instinct as he explored the deepest parts of you, picking up his pace over time. You could not control your hips as they continued to rut against his mouth.

It felt good— too good. You were unsure how long you would last with how faultlessly Bram pleasured you. You would be lying if you said you had not thought about being intimate with your lover in this way. But he surpassed your expectations; you were on cloud nine.

"Bram—!"

You cried out, only dragging your eyelids open when his tongue pulled out of your entrance, slotting to prod at your clit instead. You were shocked to find Bram gazing up at you. His ruby orbs were half-lidded, and his eyebrows were knitted in concentration as he flattened his tongue against your clit.

"F-Fuck… don't stop— please!"

You babbled, grounding your hips into his mouth as his lips circled around your puffy bud, pulling a gasp from your ruddy lips. He took that as a sign to explore further; gently, he suckled on your clit. Bram started slow, gauging your every reaction to make sure you were still feeling good. Hence, the reason his eyes trained on your face since the start.

Watching you reach nirvana because of his actions doused him with pride. Bram wanted to have you like this for the rest of his days. He hoped that in the future, he would be free of this sword-shaped nuisance.

He longed for his body, especially in moments like now. What he would give to grasp your waist, pull your cunt impossibly closer to his mouth. Letting you suffocate him as much as you wanted. His pointed nails would leave marks on your hips, no doubt. If Bram had his full body, he would be able to please you the way he knew he could. Bram yearned to have you under him one of these days, make love to you countlessly, and plug you full with his seed.

He let his fantasies play out in his mind as he sucked on your clit, with more force. Bram swirled his tongue around your nub between particularly fierce sucks, gradually finding a rhythm.

“Bram— it’s too much… feels so good, I think I’m gonna— ah!”

You hardly finished your train of thought before your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shuddered, hips stilling against Bram’s mouth as he worked you through your high. Your thighs twitched rapidly, locking around his face the moment you came.

You felt Bram moan against your messy pussy, provoking you to shake further from the onslaught of pleasure. As a few moments ticked by, Bram slowed his ministrations against your sticky clit. Gradually, drawing his lips off your puffy bud.

You took in a shaky breath as you began to regain composure. Slowly, you crept your body down the length of the bed until your head was level with Bram’s. You collapsed beside him, bringing a shaky hand up to wipe over his slick-covered lips.

“I’m sorry… I got you all messy…”

You squeaked out, embarrassment shooting up your spine as the reality of the situation crept up on you.

“Don’t apologize, I… enjoyed every moment of that. You taste so—“

“Ah! Don’t finish that sentence… I’ll simply die of embarrassment!”

You shouted, bringing your free hand up to cover your face from Bram’s devoted gaze. A deep chuckle emitting from beside you pulled you out of your shameful tizzy.

Bram was… laughing?

The sound of his laughter filling your room made your heart pound against your sternum. It was so foreign to hear him be carefree, but you fell in love with it. The perfect melody, you reasoned.

“I don’t ever desire you to die on my watch, mo chroí. So, I suppose I will keep my lips sealed— for now.”

You could not help the laugh that slipped past your lips from his playful tone. Seeing all the different sides of Bram felt forbidden. You could not even begin to describe how lucky you felt; to be the one who got to explore the deepest parts of him.

“For now, huh? What do you say we rest for a little while— I’ll be sure to set multiple alarms so we’ll be awake before dawn. I promise! I just want to rest with you for a bit…”

You let out between yawns, abruptly feeling very sleepy from that intense orgasm your lover granted you only moments ago. Bram offered you a small smile before ultimately caving in to you like he always did.

“As you wish. But please be sure to pull the covers up, mo chroí. Besides you dying, the last thing I desire is for you to catch a cold.”

You slowly sat up from the bed, slipping on your panties and an oversized sweater. You set a few alarms on your phone; as promised, before switching the light off. As you crawled back into bed beside Bram, your hands came up to peel the duvet back far enough so you could slot yourself underneath. Making sure to cover Bram with the plush blanket as well.

“Goodnight, Bram… I love you…”

You whispered against his neck, placing a small kiss there before your droopy eyelids sealed shut. You dozed off in a matter of seconds. Bram sighed in contentment as he felt your warm breath tickle the side of his throat.

He let his eyes wander along the glowing galaxy that stretched along your ceiling. Bram could not help but think back; to the first moment he saw the artificial stars and planets. Never would he have imagined you two would be here together in such an intimate and loving way based on your first encounter.

You were the first person to show him kindness in a very long time, and you continued to be that guiding light in his life from that day forward. In this makeshift galaxy, Bram believed you were the star that burned the brightest. His favorite one.

He turned his head toward you, placing a lingering kiss atop your head. Bram finally allowed himself to succumb to slumber, eyes closing shut. Dozing off without a second thought just before whispering out,

“I love you more, mo réalta.”

mo réalta = my star

[cheryxspixe]

I RAN OUT OF ROOM TO KEEP TYPING IN THE TAGS LOL but that was about it ... afyer that there were othwr bits of the dream but they werent related other than me bringing up how ashe climbed a mountain

tell me why this mother fucker climbed a snowy ass mountain in the dead of fucking night in freezing temperatures with literally nothing but her hands and why was vyncent just At the top

and what tje fuck was that towering pillar of text girl whjat

[thewulf]

Absolutely Gorgeous || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Anyways what if they meet a teacher from base like she teaches at the school on base at the bar but she’s not drinking just hanging out! Like how do you think that would go? Read Rest Here

A/N: Back at it with my favorite man!! Hope you guys enjoy! As always, thank you for the request!!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

“Finally!” Your co-worker, Molly, squealed as she put the overflowing binder down on her desk, “Three months of freedom!”

Grinning you nodded your head along with her, “They’re not that bad, Molls.”

She had to suppress the eye roll she wanted to give you, “You had a class of little fourth grade angels. I had those sixth-grade demons all year long.”

Your laughter filled up Molly’s empty classroom, “Fair. They were probably my best class yet.”

She nodded her head, “Sometimes you get lucky like that. Was not my year.”

“Maybe next? What grade are you teaching anyway?” The two of you began to walk out of the building for the last time this summer. That was until you needed to get the decorations hung for the next school year.

She shrugged, “Haven’t been assigned yet.”

You nodded along thinking to yourself. The school on base was… tiny. Itty bitty. It was a miracle it even functioned. It was another miracle there were enough students to keep the place running. But they did. And it kept you employed. You’d only been teaching for the last three years, still trying to find your groove. You’d stumbled upon this job in your search and couldn’t believe it actually paid a decent wage. So, you took it and ran.

“Hey, are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” She asked once the two of you got to the almost desolate parking lot. Just your two cars and the principals left.

You shrugged, “Wasn’t planning to.” It’s not that you hated going it was just horribly overwhelming for you almost every time you went. It always ended the same damn way every single time. You’d get all dressed up, put too much makeup on and then get ignored. The friends you’d come with would always, always, find a man to talk to leaving you in limbo. It wasn’t for a lack of trying either. You tried so hard to just strike up a conversation with anybody only to be left or once again, ignored.

It hurt at first. Then you got used to it. You’d, unfortunately, had gotten used to being alone in a really crowded place. So, you just started going out with them less and less. You loved them. The group of friends you’d found in San Diego was like nothing you’d had before. You didn’t even think yourself as unattractive. It’s just when you stood next to them you’d looked incredibly average. Average and boring. Which was fine, it just got a little old when the hot pilot would be chatting up everybody but you.

“You should come!” Molly squeezed your bicep trying to convince you with a cheerful gaze crossing her eyes, “It’ll be so fun. All of the teachers are planning on coming!”

You had to bite your lip from the instant scowl that wanted to cross your face, “I’ll have to think about it.”

She shook her head, “That means no. Come on Y/N! Please?” Hey big blue eyes turned down as she gave you a silent pout.

It was really hard to say no to Molly. She was so kind, sweet and so damn infectious you just wanted to say, “Yeah, sure. I can come for a little. You know I don’t drink though, right?”

She nodded, “I know, it’s still nice to have you there. You keep our heads level and in check.”

You only laughed a little. You decided to call off drinking back in college. You’d had too many hospital visits for alcohol poisoning that even you got embarrassed. You just never seemed to be able to control yourself. You’d tried. For years you’d tried. But you’d always, always, without fail would take it one step too far. That’s when you decided to quit. You became an entirely different person that you hated when you drank.

“Somebody has to.”

She squeezed your arm. That’s who she was. She loved giving physical affection. At any chance she could she’d give a hug or squeeze an extremity. Only if you were comfortable with it though. She made sure of it though.

“I’m so glad you’re coming! We’re meeting at six. A bunch of pilots just got back from a mission too. Shelly told us last night.” She clapped all too excitedly.

Great. Just great. Hopefully Penny was working. That’d give you somebody to talk to. Giving her a slight head bob, you hoped it would come off as excited, “That’ll make for an interesting night.”

She shot you a wink, “You don’t know the half of it. Alright, see you tonight?” She headed for her car after stopping at yours to finish up the conversation.

“Yeah, see you tonight.” You hopped in your car already feeling the dread of tonight. You’d just leave before the sun set. That’s all you needed to do. It’d be alright.

You were already regretting committing once you parked your car. Maybe you could just bail now? Fake an illness? But then the literal two hours you spent getting ready would be for null.

Sighing you decided to just walk in. It’d be fine. You looked nice. Opted for a pretty floral sundress. It was far too hot to even contemplate putting shorts on. So, a dress it was. This time a sigh of relief escaped your mouth seeing Penny behind the bar with a few other bartenders.

“Y/N!” You spotted Molly waving at you frantically. The three girls already sitting at the bar with a drink in hand. They all looked beyond beautiful. It came naturally for Molly. You knew you were slightly jealous of the girl, who wouldn’t be though? Shelly brought her friend Erin. Who both looked stunning. It wouldn’t be long now before each girl would get plucked. Might as well enjoy the time you had with them all.

“Hey pretty ladies.” You hugged each one before sitting next to Molly. You jumped right into the conversation with the girls finding yourself quickly engaged with the drama Erin was telling the group about.

Not long after you finished your first soda Shelly was getting chatted up. That was quicker than normal. The sun wouldn’t even be setting for another few hours yet. Maybe you’d have to make your great escape far sooner than you planned too.

Being so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even heard the pilot slowly approach the bar next to you. He’d even ordered and all before he attempted to grab your attention. You caught Jakes attention almost immediately when he heard your friend call for you. He’d never been so entranced by somebody so damn quickly. He knew immediately he’d have to approach you.

He'd watched you for longer than even he’d care to admit. But how could you blame him? Your smile nearly took his breath away. His attention was so drawn away from the conversation that he didn’t even hear rooster make a snide remark. His eyes remained on you from across the bar. He was being beyond creepy, and he knew it. But for the first time in his life, he almost felt nervous at the thought of approaching you. Nervous of the thought of you rejecting him. He honestly didn’t know if he could take it. He’d never felt anything so strongly before without even talking to you.

“Whatcha drinking darlin’? I can get you another one.” Jake smiled softly. He’d decided to play down his usual overt flirtyness not wanting to scare you off. As often as it worked sometimes he did get turned down

You looked down at your glass realizing you were out. Then you decided to look at the face that the voice came from. He was handsome. So very handsome. That was without question. But he surely wasn’t talking to you. Nobody ever talked to you. So you turned away waiting to hear the conversation go on.

You waited a second not hearing a response but turning back to the pilot who was looking at you like he was waiting for an answer, “Me?” You’d asked with the utmost confusion.

He chuckled softly, “Yeah you. Who else?”

You peaked around and shrugged, “Not sure.” You’d admitted.

He brushed it off, “So? A drink?”

You nodded, he’s harmless you were sure of it, “Sure. Soda.”

A smile broke out onto his face as he tried to flag down a bartender, “Mind if I have a seat?” He asked you, not wanting to assume like he had so many times before. He had a feeling you were different. Whatever the hell that meant. But he knew one thing. He felt different. Nervous. Anxious.

You shook you head quickly. Almost on instinct, “No, not at all.” He didn’t seem to judge you in the least for your drink of choice. That often alienated people even further. What weirdo orders a soda at the bar? You. You did. You just pretended it was a jack and coke or something. It was easier that way.

You felt an elbow to your side. It had to have been Molly pushing you along. When you turned to snap at her she was walking away, waving, “We’re going to sit outside!” She winked knowing you were trapped. You were far too cowardly to run away so quickly so you decided to stay. But you felt far too cowardly to stay too. It had to be a sick joke or something now. Why would this gorgeous man want anything to do with you? Especially when Molly and Erin were right there.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He only smiled seeing you look straight ahead. Either you were shy or incredibly standoffish. He had to assume the earlier. Especially with how seemingly friendly you’d already been to him. It wasn’t all that often that beautiful women were shy Jake had noticed over time.

You nodded your head thankful your head decided to fall over your ear shielding the rising blush for him, “Sure.”

He sat down quickly turning himself towards you. This was going to be difficult he decided. He wanted to be forward, so you knew his intentions, but he didn’t want to be too much. Or worse, make you uncomfortable. He knew that there was no coming back from that. You just seemed shy though. Like you didn’t know how to proceed. So, he’d take the reins and steer the conversation.

“Haven’t seen you before. You from around here?” He tried to break the ice. He didn’t know if it’d creep you out. He’d never been this fucking unsure of himself and it was beginning to drive him mad already.

He seemed genuine you thought. Like he was actually trying to strike up a conversation. You’d still refuse to believe it was anything legit though. Likely a bet with the other khaki uniformed people in the corner of the bar.

Fuck it. May as well entertain it. Even if it was a joke at least it was a conversation. Not like you’d had your friends to fall back on, “Yeah, teach at the school on base. Live close by. Just don’t get out that much.”

He hummed contemplating what to say, “That’s too bad.”

“What’s that?” You asked him all too curious at what he meant.

He shrugged trying to play it off nonchalantly. It felt like he was in seventh grade all over again trying to learn how to flirt all over again, “Could’ve met you weeks ago darlin’” He grinned scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

Was he being serious? Even if he wasn’t you couldn’t stop the reaction that came with the conversation with him, “Well,” You decided it was time to be confident. What’d you have to lose? “I’m here now.” You finished wanted to suck in a breath. These flashes of confidence came around occasionally.

His smile turned down into a low smirk. His eyes darked just a tad as he leaned in. He took that as an invitation. You’d more than invited him in now, “That you are beautiful. And I am so thankful for that.” He almost whispered in your ear.

You still shivered. He was laying it on thick now. So would you. Or throw it back in his face, “Are you?”

He nodded, “Very. Means I can ask you out on a date.”

The laugh that left your mouth was inescapable. It had to be a joke. In your twenty-five years on this planet this had not once happened to you. It happened to all of your friends, sure, but not you, “Yeah, sure.” You voice was oozing sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Jake.

He tilted his head as he observed you, “What?”

“Is this some sort of joke or?” You looked around waiting for somebody to point at you, laughing. That’d be horrifying.

He shook his head, “Not at all sweetheart. Why would you think that?” He asked with all the sincerity lacing both his face and his expression.

You took a breath. Because nobody had ever done this before? Because why would he, the most handsome guy you’d laid your eyes upon, have any interest in you? Because this was the last thing you expected tonight. Not that you were against the thought. You just couldn’t believe it.

“No reason.” You tried to play it off as coolly as possible, but you knew you failed. You were fidgety and anxious. Not attractive at all.

“So, what do you say?”

You looked around. Why did he pick you? It just didn’t make sense. There were so many beautiful women. When you were constantly picked last it just didn’t compute when you were one of the first to be picked, “Are you sure?”

He studied your face before his smirk dropped into a frown, “Yes darlin’. I’m positive. Why do you keep trying to check?” He turned the question around on you.

“I mean, there’s women in here like Molly.” You pointed to your blonde friend who was sitting at a bench outside near the beach.

Ahh, that made sense to him. But it didn’t at the same time. You were beautiful too. Just as beautiful as the other women in the bar. If not even more beautiful. Something about you just got his mind going crazy and he wasn’t quite sure what the hell it was. But damn was he determined to figure it out.

He looked over to the girl you pointed to and shrugged, “She’s pretty but not really my type.”

You took your time looking over his features making sure he wasn’t lying to you, “Erin?”

His eyes flicked to the other blonde-haired girl you were pointing too. He shook his head, “I think you’re beautiful. She’s pretty but you’re… you’re absolutely gorgeous. What’s that mean?” He needed to get you to stop thinking about everybody else. He needed you to think about you. To stop comparing yourself. It had to have come from somewhere. Self-doubt always came from a place of neglect. Whatever it was he wanted to help you. Hell, he wanted to go on a date and then ten more with you already. He could just tell you were so layered, had so much to you. He was more than fascinated and needed to find out more. For the first time ever, Jake wanted to get to know the person he was talking to instead of getting into their bed.

It was slowly starting to click into place for you. Maybe he did actually find you attractive. He was certainly being adamant about it, “Really?” You were aware how cringy it actually was to look so daft and clueless. But on the other hand, you were genuinely mystified by the entirety of the situation. It’s not like you never ever got male attention. It just never came in this form. It always seemed to come with a catch.

His softer smile retuned as he reassured you, “Really. I’d love to take you out on a date…” His eyes went wide as he trailed off, “I don’t even know your name.” Looking away in slight embarrassment it was your turn to gain a little confidence now. You were pretty sure that he was actually into you. He was as handsome as ever. And he seemed a touch nervous to talk to you. This was your chance.

Returning his soft smile, you sat up a little taller in your barstool as you turned to him just a little, “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated committing it to his memory. He got that exiting feeling that you’d be in his life to come for a long while. Taking a second to really remember this moment in time. Your soft smile, the light blush that danced across your cheeks, the way the sunset seemed to gleam off your glistening eyes. He was a sucker already. He’d hardly known you, but he was ready to dive right on in.

You hummed taking a sip of the Diet Coke you’d ordered waiting on his name. You weren’t the most talkative in general, so this was a task for you, to say the least. Words never seemed to come all that naturally to you.

“Jake.” He leaned in closer feeling the pull.

“Jake.” You repeated just as he did, “You look like a Jake.”

His smile grew a touch, “Is that a good thing?”

You nodded your head, “I think it is.”

He was full on grinning now, “They say third times the charm. How about a date? Me, you, tomorrow, 5 PM?”

You had to admit you were more than a little excited to be asked. Let alone by him, “Sure, I’d be down.” You cringed internally at that. Why’d you accept like that? You were trying to come off cool not like a sixteen-year-old girl getting asked on her first date ever.

He pulled his phone out in lightning speed, “Well then darlin’, that calls for me getting your number.”

You’d have to put a pound of makeup on tomorrow from how much he was already making you blush. Taking his phone from his grasp you could’ve sworn you felt the butterflies explode when you touched his fingers with your own. With you unusually shaky hands you put your number in before handing the phone back to Jake.

Your phone chimed after he rattled off a text, “And now you have mine sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to admit how smooth that was but your cheeks flaming up gave that bit away. When you didn’t respond he knew he needed to, “As much as I want to stay and talk with you all night sweetheart. Your friends are staring, and I know mind are to. I’ll pick you up at 5?” he stood from the barstool next to you.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

He sent you another wink before grabbing his beer, “I’ll see you tomorrow gorgeous. Can’t wait.”

“See you tomorrow Jake.” You waved. With that you spun making a beeline for your friends who were nearly squealing by the time you made it to their table.

“Tell us everything!” Molly was smiling from ear to ear truly thankful you’d given somebody a chance.

Taglist: @loving-and-dreaming

[muraseclinic]

This is the dumbest post I will ever make online. Anon on to keep my last shred of dignity. Hope the post doesn't break.

All of your pretty words have been plaguing my fucking mind recently. Been thinking a lot about the type of shit you say. I'm normally a sadist dom, but your posts slip me into a stupid fucking masochistic stupor. I've read at least every word about a dozen times over. It's pretty fucked up how desperate I am about all this. I doubt you even care, but I don't think I want you to.

I picture the scene pretty vividly, you telling me exactly what steps puppy has to follow. Maybe I fight back, helplessly trying to turn the tables, but it doesn't work. It'll never work against you. You'll only mindfuck me harder. Telling me I don't know what I want, telling me to get over it. How I don't deserve to be in control. Slipping me further and further into absolute submission, I won't be able to resist anymore.

You'll tell me to cut my veins open, let it all bleed out, and I'll obey. 'Cause it's what you want. My desires don't matter. It's all about pleasing you. The knife'll sink deep into my flesh, carving deep grooves, brilliant shades of red rising to the surface. The blood scent in the air is fucking pungent. You'll laugh, almost angelic but truthfully cruel. You'll stomp down on my wrist, the blood spurting out of the cuts onto your boot, maybe you'll even fracture the bone. You'll tell me to clean up my mess. I'll stick my tongue out like the whores in pornos do, idiot and crass, and I'll lick up my own gore off the vamp of your boot without a second thought. That copper taste so familiar, it's all I'll know beyond this point.

We'll go for hours, days even. I'll be a fuckin' drugged up cut up mess, sobbing and broken, and you'll be laughing through it all. You'll get bored eventually, I know you will, and then you'll give me one last command. You'll tell me those lovely parting words, tell me to kill myself for you, it's the final act to our fucked up scene. And I'll do it. A kicked puppy only wants to please its ruthless master. I'll make it slow, just so you can take in my gargled cries like an alluringly haunting symphony of pain. Choking on my own blood, fucking filthy.

Then what comes after? That's for you to decide. Not me, of course.

fuck anon .ᐟ ,, you’ve really outdone yourself this time haven’t you (ㅅ´ ˘ `) i gotta say, i'm flattered that my “pretty words” have been rattling around that head of yours . . .

now, for that very very nice scene you mentioned . .

i'd peel away that last shred of dignity, leaving you a broken mess at my feet. it’d take some effort, considering you have the same knack for violence and defiance as an untrained mutt, but we’d eventually get there wouldn’t we .ᐣ i'd savor every agonized gasp, every gurgled cry as you choke on your own blood. it'd be one of the most beautiful, and most disgusting things i’ve ever seen, and it’d be all for me . . .

i’d enjoy the moment, might even record you killing yourself just to add it to my personal collection. but, once the deed has been done, and you're lying there in a pool of your own blood .ᐣ well, my interest tends to wane pretty damn quick. ᓚᘏᗢ i dunno - i've got better things to do than babysit a corpse. . .

but just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t be useful, now does it .ᐣ you’ve got a little more left to give until i get sick of you. . .

i’m sure i’d find something, anything, to make it so that even in death you weren’t a waste of time. cut into you with zero-surgical precision, rough and uneven, take out whatever interests me or whatever i think might taste good (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) maybe i won’t be able to hold back, might not be able to wait til’ everything is clean, cut and organized. might start tearing into you right then and there, making more of a mess of things. you won’t mind, right .ᐣ for the rest of you, i’ll find ways to utilize every last scrap. maybe i’ll tan your skin, craft it into a wallet or a glove . . might take a picture of your body n’ hang it somewhere. your corpse, once i’ve gotten everything i can out of if, will probably be left behind some dingy motel or in an alleyway.

if i’m feeling nice, i might even send it home to where your family is as a surprise. they can burden themselves with it now ᥫ᭡

[sarah-scara]

Cold Sloan Creamery

A charming cutie steals your attention at your boring coffee-shop job. Turns out they've got a food service gig as well - a much sweeter one. Modern AU.

Another experiment I did with first-person stuff. Sex is alluded to but not present. Word count: 2253. Enjoy!

Five A.M. Entirely too early to be doing anything, let alone having to drag myself into work for another day; yet here I was, miserably reading the back of a shampoo bottle in the shower. Mornings like this, I would idly wonder if it was worth quitting my job. Technically, I could probably survive college without it if I took out more loans. There were benefits to working at a coffee shop as well. I just had to push through it.

I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Working on campus was pleasant at least, even on the weekends it felt like I was part of a community. I had a few regulars I knew and enjoyed talking to. I was hyping myself up as I dried myself off, hoping to make the day a little less miserable. It worked slightly, as I was at least able to muster up the energy to get ready and make it there.

The lights were already on, and I mumbled “good morning”s to my coworkers as I kept preparing myself mentally for the day ahead. I made myself a small coffee - one of the perks of the job was a free drink per shift, and I needed it now - and drank it entirely too quickly for something that hot. With that, I was finally ready to start the drudgery of commerce. It was Saturday, so there was no rush of people coming to class, but there were still a few customers. Just get into the groove, it’ll be fine. I thought to myself.

I was able to dissociate and lose myself in filling orders and making drinks, and by the time I looked at the clock again I had made it to eleven. Not too bad so far, just a few hours to go. The next customer came up, looking a bit frazzled, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute they were. Cute brown hair, an eyebrow piercing, a dazzling smile - they had it all. And they would have their caramel latte with extra whipped cream they ordered in that beautiful high-energy voice.

They took their drink and sat themselves on one of our tables, pulling out a laptop festooned with stickers. A few pride stickers, including a nonbinary flag in a cute heart, as well as a litany of representations of historic places. A column from the Parthenon, a pyramid from Giza… this was clearly someone who was well versed in the wonders of the world. Exploring sounded nice right about now, trapped in work. At least it was lunchtime. Maybe I should talk to them? No, that was weird. I took another small coffee - one small coffee plus another still added up to one free drink, right? - and sat down at a table near enough to the mysterious cutie without being so close that I’d be anxious. It didn’t work. I was still anxious, hearing them tap-tap-tap away at their keyboard. I hadn’t had an infatuation this powerful or instant in a long time, and it had me sweating.

“Howdy!” They’d directed their attention to me. I was careful not to get my hopes up, but there was an outside shot that this was my chance. “That latte was really good. You seemed kinda down so I figured I’d uh, swing by?” They had taken their laptop over to my table, and were smiling that adorable chipped smile at me again. 

“Oh, thank you.” I said. Don’t fumble now, I thought to myself. “I was just thinking about an assignment I have due next week.”

They nodded. “Ugh, I feel that. I was actually working on a paper about the classical structures of Rome, which I love, but the writing still gets to me.”

“That sounds unique. What degree is that for?”

Their eyes lit up and they started to ramble a bit. “Archaeology! It’s been one of my favorite topics… well, my whole life! It’s been so fun to study. Still not into the writing though.” They sighed. “I wish I could get out of the classroom and out into the field, but digsites won’t take you without the degree. Lame.”

“Where are you hoping to get to work at once you get the degree?”

They paused for a moment in thought, then continued with their mile-a-minute responses. “I mean my favorite place in the whole world is Cairo, and I’d love to get to find an undiscovered part of the Pyramids, but I worry that staying in one place will mean I miss out on all the other places I could explore! I guess my answer is that I want to travel a lot? It would certainly be better than now, where the farthest I travel is from my dorm to the gym.”

Their figure did look as if they were into working out - not too much, but they certainly looked like an arm wrestling contest with them would not be particularly close. Hot. Averting my eyes, I checked my watch. Three minutes left on my lunch break. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to work. It was really nice talking to you…” I realized I hadn’t got their name.

They realized too. “I’m Sloan! Nice to meet you too! Hopefully I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! Best of luck on your paper. When in Rome and all that.”

They stuck their tongue out playfully as they packed up their laptop, and left with a wave. I spent the rest of my shift hoping I’d see them again soon. That said, I think I was the only one who was going to drink two coffees in one day, so I guess it’d have to wait…

---

Two P.M. I was finally free from my job for the day. Most of the time, I only worked weekends, so in a way I was already halfway through the week. Despite this, I was still willing to spend a bit to get myself a little treat. A new ice cream shop had opened near campus, and it did sound relaxing to get a cone and relax in the courtyard in the summer sun. 

A small bell rang on the door as I entered, and I heard a surprisingly familiar voice greet me. “Welcome to Lindholm’s Ice Cream, where sweet treats are always…” They trailed off. “It’s you! Hello!” Sloan was there, on the job, dressed in a cute but admittedly somewhat tacky red and white striped outfit adorned with a hat and bowtie.

“You work here? I promise this is a coincidence.” I said sheepishly.

“Aw shucks, I mean you’re allowed to come visit just for me.” They said with a grin. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, um…” My order was suddenly gone from my mind, lost in their eyes. “Whatever you recommend? Dealer’s choice.”

“Not something I hear often, but I can dig that.” They said, getting a scoop out and taking a hunk of pink dessert. “This one’s a simple combination I like. Strawberry and vanilla.”

“That sounds good. Thanks!” As they took the second scoop and placed it into a cone, I took the treat. “Is it alright if I hang out here? I’m not sure how busy you guys get.”

“Of course you can! As for business…” They put their hands on their cheeks in exaggerated disappointment. “You’re the first customer we’ve had today. I don’t know if the owner doesn’t do any advertising or what, but it gets pretty boring.” They perked back up a bit. “I still get paid the same either way, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“So how long have you worked here?” I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream. The strawberry flavor was really refreshing after today.

“Like a month. It’s honestly not that bad. Nobody comes in, so I’m not bothered. Plus, they let me mess around with my own uniform for, uh, gender reasons. Let me wear this snazzy bowtie.” They stepped out from behind the counter with their own ice cream and sat down across from me.

“This is good! My compliments to the scooper.”

“‘Course! My taste is always good.”

---

The next few weeks, stopping by the ice cream shop on days when Sloan was working became something of a ritual. It was always nice to give them some company, chat about what was going on in our respective classes, and just… soak in their energy. Their bright smile, their cheery laugh, even down to their regularly changing nail polish, they just exuded positivity and light. Soon, they started coming to get more coffee more regularly, and we spent my breaks there talking as well. It turned my feelings on work around to know I’d get to see Sloan around midway through the day.

It was about a month before during one of our conversations over ice cream that I noticed Sloan was acting kind of strangely. Their eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine, their hands trembled a bit as they served out our desserts, and they nervously tapped their fingers on their side. They sat down across from me, eyes staring straight at their ice cream. There was no one else in the store, as usual - I’d seen maybe two other customers in the last month. 

“You okay, Sloan?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Their downward gaze still didn’t change. They muttered under their breath. “¡Demonios!”

“If something’s bothering you, I’m happy to listen. Professor being a jerk again? Argument with someone?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” They breathed in deeply. “Could you come with me to the back for a second?”

“I know I come in here a lot, but I don’t actually work here.” I said with a laugh.

“It’s fine, nobody else will come in anyway.” They grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the storeroom in the back.

“Did you need me to like, do inventory?” I said, befuddled.

“Will you go out with me?” They said, finally meeting my gaze. “I know this is sudden, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stood stunned for a moment, overwhelmed by what had just happened.

“This was a bad idea. I knew it. I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause trouble-”

“Of course, Sloan!” I interrupted. “I’d love to, I just - I’ve thought about this for so long, ever since we first met. I was just afraid to ask too.”

Sloan smiled, a big grin showing off their chipped tooth, and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” They mumbled into my shoulder. It was so comforting, their frame wrapped around me, the warmth of their body making the momentary anxiety fade away, their eyebrow piercing shining in the light, their goofy paper hat sliding off as they leaned into me.

“Do we need to go back out front? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nobody’s going to show up, and I want to go further. I need you.” They cupped my face in their hands.

“Okay. Take the lead then.”

Sloan took a moment to summon their usual optimism and courage, freeing themselves from their earlier fear; then, they pulled my face in for a kiss. Their lips gave in to mine with ease, and I melted into their embrace. I could taste a hint of sweetness on them. They reached an arm around me and gently lifted me, letting me fall deeper in. This was bliss. My tongue met theirs and my mind started to go blank. The rest of the world seemed to fade out; I was focused on them exclusively.

After an amount of time - I couldn’t tell how much - we pulled apart a bit, still in an embrace but not quite as close. “Still doing good?” Sloan panted out.

“So good.” I said. “If you want to go farther I’m willing.”

Sloan thought for a second, then shook their head. “Not here. That’ll have to wait for after my shift. I don’t want to get THAT much in trouble with my boss.”

I laughed, managing to get to my feet. They did as well, and I helped them smooth out their uniform to try to hide the evidence of our little escapade. Their hair was well mussed from my hands grasping through it, so I attempted to fix it. With a few brushes of my hand in a more orderly fashion, it almost worked. 

Sloan took out their phone to look at themselves. They laughed too. “Sloan Cameron, back in action, baby!” They mimed finger guns at me.

Clutching my heart in faux pain, I blew them a kiss and headed back out to the front. Just as they predicted, the ice cream shop was barren. “Looks like your job’s safe, Sloan.”

“Of course! You didn’t doubt me, did you?” They said. 

As the flood of emotions faded from me, I suddenly started to notice one thing that I can’t believe I hadn’t up until now. I was freezing. “How cold is it back there?” I said, starting to shiver.

“It’s an ice cream freezer! I’m just used to it.” They said with a smirk. “I’ve got an idea, though…” They threw their jacket at me. “Just bring it back to me later! I just keep it here just in case, I’m not using it much anyway. It’s hot out.” Grabbing a scrap of paper, they quickly scrawled in messy handwriting a note and handed it to me. It was their dorm room, their phone number, and a heart. “See you soon!”

[longlivedelusion]

Bit O' Swing

Bucky x Reader / No use of Y/N / Drabble

Summary: You've been begging Bucky to teach you some 40s dances for a while now, and he finally gave in. Little hint of Sam and Steve commentary too 😏

Warnings: Fluffy, no warnings. Some insecurity but that's it.

A/N: had a dream last night that Bucky literally taught me how to 40s dance so this is how this came to life. Woke up and was like "write that down, write that down!!!" And so I did. Enjoy this little drabble that's definitely just been written at like 7am.

Masterlist

Bucky's hand slipped around your waist, slightly hesitant at first. His other hand moved to yours and he pulled you in.

"Uh- yeah- so you just follow my lead and uh- feel the music. We'll take it slow." Bucky said, the sound of 40s music blaring around the room.

~

"You think he's gonna trip before even getting a step out?" Sam said low to Steve, a small smirk on his face as he leaned back against the couch watching the whole thing play out.

Steve's eyes stayed on his best friend and his dance partner, "Bucky was always a hell of a dancer. He got a lot of girls that way, so I think he'll be fine."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, but you see who he's dancing with?" Sam vaguely gesturing in your direction.

Steve smiled. "You may have a point there."

~

Bucky started off slow, despite the fast music. He lightly pulled on my body to show where he was going, matching the beat but slower. "See, you gotta swing your hips a bit this way, and your feet will uh-" He tripped, quickly collecting himself. "Shit, sorry, they'll kind of move this way but faster."

I smiled, easily mirroring Bucky's movements, "Like this?"

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah that's perfect." He then slipped his hand from my waist but kept one hand on mine. "Then you, we, usually dance like this where I'll kind of swing you around and pull you in, and kinda repeat that. Any of this makin' any sense?"

I followed his movements, watching the pattern and beat he was talking about. "Yeah, it's all makes sense. Keep going."

"Great, okay, yeah so you move your feet like this when we're out-" he started to show the movements before losing his grip a bit on me. "Shit, sorry, maybe I'm not actually the best to show you this." He stopped his movements.

"You're doing great James." I slow down with him, eyes trying to meet his. I gently squeezing his hand. "I think I'm getting it down, keep going."

He nodded, quickly glancing at me. "I swear I'm a good dancer. Just been'a while."

"I know you are. I can tell. Just relax, ok? This is just some fun." I nudge him encouragingly.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, right. Okay." He pulled me back in and swung me out, his feet moving still slower than the beat to show me the movements.

I noticed the pattern and looked back up. "Can we try it a bit faster?"

He nodded before taking me through the motions, now on time. I could really tell good a dancer he was despite his earlier little hiccups, his body matching pace of the song easily. He was a bit tense, like he always was, but had this definite groove to him. Like it was built into his body.

And despite his nerves, he was a damn good lead.

He pulled me forward, eyes never leaving mine as he twisted back and forth, my movements following his. It was like a wave, pushing and pulling before eventually his hand would find my waist again. Just for a second, two, moving me across the floor before leaving again.

Slowly the nerves seemed to fade.

I started to add my own groove to it too, swinging my hips back and forth, feeling him spin me around as I came back. I could see his body started to relax and the way his lips went from a thin line of concentration to eventually a small smile.

"You're pretty good at this." Bucky said, pulling me back in and keeping me there for longer than usual.

"I had a good teacher." I smiled back.

"Yeah, well looks like the student definitely passed the master." He spinned me out.

I laughed as I swung out and then felt him tug me back in. I moved in closer at the swing in, not pulling away as I held on a big smile. "Maybe I could show you a few tricks then."

Who knew the ex-assassin could blush.