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bunni-v1 · 3 months ago

Note

how do you think lighter would handle the reader after learning it is going to be their first time aka a virgin reader x lighter

Lighter and Virgin!Reader

🍓Yayay! I wanted to really take my time to write this one, so sorry that I didn't get it out super quick. Wrote it while listening to Christmas music btw, probably gonna write smth smutty for Christmas now. I've never written full-on smut outside of an RP setting so... apolocheese if this is cringe. You can throw tomatoes at me, I will eat them like the rodent I am.

Minors DNI

TW: NSFW; First time!; sickeningly sweet lighter; grammar errors probably lol (I promise I edit my stuff).

Info: Lighter x Reader; Nsfw; Fluffy; no pronouns but reader is fem bodied

Lighter is, and always has been, a rather simple man. While he loves you and respects you more than anything in the world, he too has thoughts that any man might have. It was only natural that he found you... mmm... titillating. You were his partner after all, and you were very good-looking if you asked him.

So many times he's found you on his lap, or beneath him whichever comes easiest at the time, drowning in your sweet lips. His hands wandered over your clothed sides, desperate for a taste of the real thing. He was addicted to you, and sweet candies couldn't placate him this time. It was heavenly having you in his grasp, so very close to everything he'd been dreaming about.

The only issue was that you always seemed to have some excuse to push him away. He'd fisted his cock one too many times alone in his room after another failed encounter, and he just didn't get it. You always seemed so eager, so pliant, right up until he slid his hands below your shirt.

The second his fingers made contact with the soft, oh-so-tempting skin there you would jump like he'd burned you. Then you'd push his eager hands down and come up with some lame reason to leave. He understood that maybe you weren't ready, that was okay, but didn't you feel safe enough to tell him? No, surely something else was going on. He could tell, there was something else that was holding you back, and he was going to figure it out.

Tonight would be the perfect chance to do just that. The girls were busy doing their own thing at the bar, leaving him with all the free time in the world to be alone with you. As usual, he had you on his lap, mouths working against each other. His tongue pressed into yours, happily exploring its space as he swallowed up your whimpers and whines.

Fingers press into your thighs like a vice, desperate for all the skin they can get their hands on. As you wind your fingers into his hair, he takes it as his sign to slide his hands up to your hips, slowly pressing you down into him. You jolt a little in his grasp, drawing a low chuckle from the back of his throat. So cute.

You pull back from him, a thin string of saliva keeping you connected, eyes wide and face flushed. Your chest heaves with effort, and your hair is an absolute disaster. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans, another gasp falling from your pretty swollen lips at the sensation.

"Lighter..." You say breathlessly, and he knows its meant to be a scolding remark, but he just finds it too cute.

He cocks his head to the side, "What? Too much to handle?"

You give him an eye roll that is all too endearing, trying and failing to straighten out your messy hair, "It's getting late, I should probably head to mine soon."

His smile falls from his face, disappointed again, like clockwork. He can't even find it in himself to hide it anymore, which makes you frown too. You press a kiss on his cheek, apologetically, "What's wrong? Why is my champion pouting?"

The pet name is almost enough to get him to forget everything, but then you shift on his lap a little and his hard-on screams at him to at least get some kind of answer. So he sighs, patting the meat of your thigh almost sadly, "Why do you always do that?"

You raise an eyebrow, which he mirrors. You know better than to play dumb, Lighter can see right through the schtick. Your demeanor cracks first, and you seem genuinely nervous as you respond, "I don't know..."

"Listen, baby. If you're not ready all you gotta do is tell me--" He tries to soothe you, because he doesn't want you to be upset. There was no shame in just not being ready, but you cut him off before he can finish his reassurances.

"No, it's not-" A grumble leaves your chest, "I want to, I really do I just... I get nervous."

It's his turn to raise an eyebrow at you, sunglasses slanting down his nose as he tilts his head curiously, "What's there to be nervous about...?"

You fluster, looking anywhere your eyes can find that wasn't him. You were awfully cute when you were embarrassed, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. With the gentlest touch to your chin, he refocuses your attention on him. A reassuring smile on his face, urging you without words to tell him what was wrong.

Some kind of war goes on behind your pretty little eyes, and he has to tap your lip with his thumb to center you again. You pout against the finger, and it takes everything in him not to push it up and into your mouth. Finally, after what seemed like ages of waiting, you give another sigh. "I'm... a virgin."

"Oh," he says, automated like a robot. It takes his brain a moment to click the gears together, but once they do, he nods. Oh. That makes so much sense.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, pressing off his chest to get up, but he tugs you back into his lap. Giving you a reassuring squeeze, praying to whatever there was out there for you to give him a moment to collect his thoughts.

It really isn't a big deal to him, not at all. He'd taken people's virginity before - former partners he doesn't even remember the names of - but you. Getting to be your first? It felt like the world had both blessed and cursed him at the same time. You didn't have a good frame of reference, which was great. He'd be the best partner you've had. Yet... he'd also be the only partner you've had, and that was a lot of pressure to put on a guy like him.

"Lighter?" You squeak out, face all nervous and cute in a way that just drives him wild.

A huff leaves him before he can think better of it, causing you to frown a little. His arms wrap around your middle, tugging you closer to him, "That's all? Here you had me thinking you weren't attracted to me all of a sudden."

The response takes you off guard, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Had you genuinely thought that would be a turn-off for him? What do you take him for, some prude? "I- I mean, you know... I don't have any experience, and I figured since... since you had it would just-"

He hushes you, trying his best not to laugh at how ridiculous the thought is. Most guys would leap to be in his shoes, it was a loser's wet dream to take some innocent angel like you and ruin you. Not Lighter, though. Despite how many times he'd fucked his hand thinking about your pretty little body, he would make sure your first time was perfect. He really needed it to be perfect.

"I don't care about that, baby." There's a teasing lilt in his tone that sends shockwaves down your spine, "I just want you to be happy."

It was your turn to be dumbfounded, staring at him like he had spoken forbidden texts in tongues you didn't understand. He tilts your head with the hand still holding your chin, and it's incredibly sexy the way his sunglasses dip a little so you can see the genuineness in his eyes.

"Would it make you happy if I took your virginity?" You give a slow, dumb nod, and he presses closer, "Do you wanna try tonight?"

Lighter watches with thinly veiled amusement as the pieces slip into place for you, face so warm he could feel it at this distance. You seem to have stalled a bit, so he gives you an award-winning smile and taps your lips to remind you to use them.

"Yes. Please." You blurt out, and it's so incredibly unsexy and awkward, but he still bites his lip like you were sex incarnate.

He gives you all but three seconds to admire the (so, so incredibly hot) look on his face before he's picking you up with no effort, hands wrapped under the swell of your ass like they were made to be there. You cling to his shoulders like a lifeline, and his cock strains in his stupidly tight jeans as he imagines you doing so without the jacket between your skin.

"Where are we going?" You ask, voice uneasy.

He smirks at you, "You didn't seriously think I was gonna let your first time be on some dingy outdoor couch, did you?"

You're silent all the way to his quarters after that, warm face buried into the crook of his shoulder. He can feel how nervous you are in the shaky breaths you let puff out onto his neck. He gives your butt a reassuring pat, which only makes you burrow yourself further into his neck.

He doesn't get to see your face again until he carefully lies you on his bed, and he's glad for it too. The nervous shimmer in your eyes would've been enough for him to bend you over any surface in a heartbeat. Your teeth nibble awkwardly on your swollen bottom lip, and he resists the urge to take it in between his own, instead busying his hands with shrugging off his jacket so he doesn't do exactly that.

You look near terrified when he climbs on top of you, so leans down to kiss your forehead, and in the gentlest voice he can muster whispers, "We'll go slow, but we gotta take our clothes off if we wanna do anything, m'kay?"

You give him a slow nod, slowly drifting your eyes down to his tight-fitting t-shirt. Once you seem to calm a little, he leans down and starts right where you left off. Capturing your lips in a soft kiss, slowly easing back into the passion from earlier. His hips press into yours, but they remain still against your heat. He would let you decide when you were ready for that again.

His hands eagerly slid around your thighs, squeezing the fat between his fingers and sighing as they sank against his touch. Always so malleable, it was addictive, but he couldn't get ahead of himself. This was all about you, after all.

Slowly, he inched his digits up to the edge of your shirt, pooling the fabric between them. You give a little jolt, pressing against his crotch a little harder than he expected drawing a hiss from between his teeth. He rubs his nose against yours, "Can we get rid of your shirt?"

Another slow, unsure nod, and he's easing you up just enough that he can tug the offending fabric up and out of the way. (No bra, thank god, he sucks at removing them.) The sight it reveals better than Lighter could've begun to imagine. Your chest rises and falls with your breath, mesmerizing him. You give him an unsure smile, nodding your head along with it, and he thinks he might genuinely die tonight.

He does not suddenly go into cardiac arrest, so instead his hands glide over your stomach, and it's everything he dreamed of and more. The skin is like heaven beneath his calloused fingertips, and the light whimpers and whines you give him are honey in his ears. You shift with every touch, jerking away and then easing into his touch. Unsure, but oh so willing and wanting.

He maps out each inch of your skin like he might lose his way exploring it, tracing all the way to the final destination of your chest. Your nipples are hard already in combination with his touching and the cold air around you. He gives you one last look, one last chance to tell him no, and then he runs his thumb over the tops of them.

The sound you make is delicious, something between a moan and a strangled choking noise -- almost confused at the pleasure you are feeling. He rolls them in his fingers a few times, watching your face intently as he does so. Your confused moans melt into sighs of contentment, so he decides to try his luck with his mouth. With your head rolled back, he ensures you can feel his breath before he presses his tongue to your skin.

You shoot up, gasping in surprise, but you don't make any move to push him away. No, instead you rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his shaggy bangs back so you can really look at him. Those emerald eyes lock with yours, making a show of slowly kissing his way back up to your chest. Along the contours of your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, and finally right down to your perky bud.

Lighter takes a moment to really appreciate just how nice it looks up close, rather than through the fabric of your tank tops. Just the perfect size for sucking on, he thinks right before he engulfs the needy thing in his mouth. You throw your head back, chest hefting with your cry of "Fuck, Lighter."

He hums, only making it so much worse for you, the vibrations sending a shock through your body that makes you twist your hips just right. He takes his sweet time with your breasts, alternating between the two until you're a messy puddle below him. He hadn't even gotten past the waistband of your pants yet, and you were already so far gone. It was an ego booster, to say the least.

His free hand draws its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your pants. They dance their way along your abdomen, just itching to be let in, but not willing to disrespect your boundaries. Lucky for him, they don't have to wait long, and your own join him and carefully aid him in their removal.

It's then that he finally gives your chest a break, pulling back to tug your pants down your legs. Giving himself the time to finally admire you. He'd left... more than a few purple marks along your chest, all of which he thinks look incredibly nice in the light of the moon. His eyes trace their way down your stomach, just like his hands had, and land on the underwear you still had on.

They weren't particularly cutesy or sexy, but on you, it was the hottest thing he'd seen in years. They had a sizable wet spot in the middle, right where he wanted- no, needed to be. The only thing standing between him and tasting you was that thin piece of fabric.

A tug at the hem of his shirt draws him out of his daze, meeting eyes with your cute, nervous ones. It takes him a second to realize you wanted his shirt off, but once he gets the message, he wastes no time in shrugging it to the ground. Following it with his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

Your eyes trace their way along his figure, over his shoulders, across his stomach, and settle shyly on the outline of his dick. It only occurs to him then that you might find him just as attractive as he finds you. With eyes blown wide and distracted as you drink him all in, it's hard to avoid how much you're admiring the view right now.

He has the decency to act embarrassed, despite how he was practically drooling all over you just a few moments ago. He shivers when you reach up and trace your fingers over a scar, breath catching in his throat. "They're so pretty," you mutter, completely unaware that you had said that out loud. It could honestly make him cry. The way you look at him like he's some kind of art piece. So much love and admiration in your eyes. He can't handle it for long, even though you seem to be content just admiring his scars.

He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he presses you back into the mattress. You let out a huff as he pressed his forehead to yours, pouting now that he had interrupted your show. He gives you a few apologetic kisses, smiling at your pouting.

"Are you sure you wanna keep going, we can stop now if you want," he whispers, soft and gentle.

You nod, confident this time, "I'm ready. I wanna do this with you, Lighter. Not anyone else."

That makes his heart swell, sending the feeling right down to his dick, throbbing and reminding him he needs to prepare you. He wasn't usually one to brag, but he knew he was big, and it would be a tough take for your first time. If he wanted you to enjoy it, he'd have to take care to loosen you up first.

"Okay," he hums, reaching over to grab the lube and condoms from his nightstand, setting them nearby for when he needs it, "I'm gonna have to loosen you up first, and it's gonna hurt. You sure you can take it?"

He feels your muscles contract as he trails gentle, feather-light pecks along the edge of your underwear. "You'll take care of me, just like you always do..." Ah, you were gonna be the death of him tonight, he just knows it.

He hooks his fingers over the sides of your underwear, carefully tugging them down your legs like unwrapping a present he didn't want to ruin. What a gift he received as he threw the useless fabric to the floor, your pretty little cunt already drooling for him.

"God..." He mutters out, enchanted at the very sight. He adjusts his position one last time, making sure he is perfectly positioned in front of your gorgeous pussy. The view is something straight out of a porno, Lighter's messy hair shadowing his eyes as they stare into your very being, big hands gripping at your thighs -- like he was readying himself to consume you whole.

"You ready, baby?" He asks one last time, though it's painfully hard to do so now that he was literally right where he wanted to be, "Cause if you're not you better say so now, I don't think I could stop myself once I start, angel."

You give him the slowest nod known to man, followed by a timid little 'yes' and he's gone. His strong arms wrap under and rest atop your thighs, carefully pulling your folds apart to reveal the shining pearl he'd been dreaming of. Involuntarily he huffs out a hot breath, causing you to squirm a little in his grasp, and then he leans down and kisses your clit.

You jolt at the new sensation, another awkward breathy moan leaving your lips. He pulls back to give you a second, watching your expressions and committing them all to mind, and then he licks his lips and leans down for another wet kiss against your neglected bud. Then another, and another, and another, and at some point his tongue joins the barrage but you have no idea when. Too caught up in how good he's making you feel. So much better than your own fingers.

Lighter is in heaven, completely surrounded by nothing but you. Your little sighs, your skin, your sweet smell, and of course your juices dripping down his chin. You tasted so amazing, better than all the candies he ate. He swallowed you like a man starved, arguably more desperate for your pleasure than you were. Your little whines of his name only fueled him to suck on the little bud like a sweet treat, humming at the taste.

He wondered how many more moans he could get out of you if he added a finger... He had to stretch you out anyway, seems like now was better a time than any. One hand unwound itself from under your leg, snaking along the sheets right up under your bum.

Without taking his eyes or mouth off you he gently traces around your hole with his middle and index. Your hips grind up into his mouth, and he feels the way you clench against his fingertips. A smile grows on his face, god you were adorable, weren't you? He presses the tip of his finger into your heat, and you squeeze around it sucking him in like nothing.

"Shit..." He groans against you, the grumble going right through your nerves drawing a delicious moan out of you. He slowly pumps his finger at the same pace as his tongue, when it rolls across your clit, the finger presses up into you again. The white, hot pleasure that curls up your spine and through your body makes you arch your back. If he kept it up like this, you would cum faster than you ever had before.

Unfortunately, he pulls back and you whine like a needy child. He presses his thumb to your clit instead of his mouth as compensation, rolling in sweet little circles. Not nearly as pleasurable, but still enough to make your head spin, especially when you watch him press his cheek to your thigh to watch his own ministrations.

He is mesmerized by the way your hips jerk into his touch, his finger disappearing and reappearing over and over awfully stimulating for his relatively blank mind. His eyes lazily roll up to yours, smirking when he sees you watching him with lidded ones. "You like it, baby?"

You mutter an incoherent sound of approval, head falling back to the pillows, but that doesn't do it for him. He grabs your face with his free hand, focusing your expression on him yet again. As he does so, he eases a second finger in and you let out the most sinful moan of his name he's ever heard. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh, encouraging you to keep making those pretty noises.

He keeps on watching you, eyes having trouble focusing on both your face and your messy cunt. They're both such a good show, how could he be expected to pick which one was better. All the while he was sucking marks into your inner thigh, adding to the growing coil below your naval.

It was all too much for your poor little untouched body. His eyes watching you so carefully, the sting of his teeth on your thighs, his calloused thumb rubbing delightfully perfect circles against your swollen clit. You couldn't even think about anything other than how nice his fingers felt with circular motions right against that spot that your fingers could never reach.

"Lighter..." Your voice is so much more airy than you thought it would be, "I'm-"

He hums, understanding you without you needing to say anything at all. He removes himself from your thigh, climbing over to press his forehead against yours without stopping his movements. He wanted to see the face you made when you cum clearly. Wanted to have it etched into every corner of his brain so he could never dream of forgetting it.

"Go on then, I've got you," He encourages, and that's all it takes for the tight ball in your stomach to burst, and the flood of pleasure to take its place. You spasm around his fingers, juices coating them and dripping down his wrist. It's a beautiful thing to Lighter, watching the way your face scrunches up and then melts into pure pleasure. That was a face he could never forget, not in a million lifetimes.

He keeps his fingers moving at a slow and steady pace, easing you back down from your high. Only pull them out when you stop clenching around them, sucking your essence clean from them with a groan of satisfaction. "Delicious," He whispers, easing you back into the sheets, limbs soft and limp with the pleasant aftershocks of your orgasm.

Lighter is still there above you, watching with all the admiration in the world as your gaze refocuses on him. It's an infectious look that you subconsciously mirror, cradling his face in the palm of your hand.

"Feel good?" He asks, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

You nod, pressing a kiss to his nose, "Wonderful, actually. I don't know what I was so scared of."

He chuckles deep and warmly from the back of his throat, "I'm glad."

He presses gentle kisses across your cheek, nosing along your jaw and following with soft presses into the sensitive skin. You scratch his scalp appreciatively, more than happy to accept the affections.

"You wanna call it there?" He murmurs against your throat, hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake, "Don't wanna push you too far."

You shake your head, frowning down at him, "No, no. I wanna keep going. It's not fair of me to leave you like... that." You gesture to his still rock-hard dick pressed against your thigh.

He comes back up to look at you, caressing your face with utmost care, "Don't worry about me, I can live without getting off."

"I know," you giggle, and it's such a sweet sound to him, "I want to, Lighter. I want you. Please indulge me just a little longer?"

He really can't argue with that, not with how you're smiling at him. "Alright," He sits up, grabs the condoms, and rips the box open with practiced ease, "but it's not gonna feel good to start."

"I know," You answer, sitting up to watch him slide his boxers down. His cock springs out, tip an angry red and bleeding precum down the shaft. It was an incredibly hot sight to see him slide the condom over himself, his muscles flexing from the much-needed attention. "I definitely know."

He smirks, settling between your legs again as he picks up the lube this time. "Enjoying the view?"

"Too much," you respond, enraptured as he tugs along his member a few times, shuddering at the sensation.

He takes the time to adjust you beneath him, tugging your hips up in an angled position. The manhandling is surprisingly hot, and your heart skips a beat when he grabs at your thigh more roughly than you're used to.

"I hope I can keep you satisfied," he muses, lining himself up with your pussy.

He runs the tip against your clit a few times, spreading a mixture of lube and your cum around, hissing to himself at the feeling. He wasn't even inside and he was already needing more of you, god what did you do to him?

He presses the tip against your weeping hole, hot and desperate against him. It fluttered in anticipation, feeling far too empty knowing what his fingers felt like. It had you praying to know what his cock felt like fully pressed inside. Surely it would fill you up even better.

His emerald green eyes come down to stare into yours, an intensity you've only ever seen from him in fights burning behind them. "Ready?"

You take a deep breath and then nod as assuredly as you can. You had no idea what you were getting into, but as the tip slowly sunk into you, you felt lightheaded. The sting was deep, drawing a hiss of pain out of you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He wasn't lying when he said it would hurt, but this was way worse than you expected.

He leans down, locking his fingers with yours and pressing loving kisses along your cheeks. His hair tickles your skin and it does wonders in distracting you from the burn of his stretching you. That was just the tip. If you couldn't handle that, how could you take the rest of him?

Lighter doesn't let you worry about it, rubbing his thumbs into your hips. Muttering sweet nothings into your sweaty skin, worshipping you like a god. Like you were his whole world. In his pleasure-fueled haze, that was more truth than it was fiction.

For every stinging inch, Lighter muttered praises and peppered a thousand more kisses across your burning skin. This was the most full you'd ever felt, and the more he pushed inside the more you wanted. He stuffed himself in to the hilt, stopping fully when his hips were pressed flush against yours. You shuddered at the sensation of his tip kissing your cervix. When he said he was big he meant it, and it was everything you wanted and more.

His rough hands slide gently along your sides, coaxing you to just look at him. Your glazed eyes slide over to his face, and you smile dumbly at his expression. His face is red, brows furrowed in concentrated effort and eyes clouded in lust. "You okay? Still hurt?"

You shake your head, chest rising and falling with more effort than you were used to. "It feels good. I like it."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Fuck, he just can't stand it. You were so tight and warm, sucking him in like he was your last meal. He could feel your pussy clench around him suddenly, and he had to bury his face into your neck to stop himself from moaning out loud.

Who could've imagined a few years without sex would make him so weak. Maybe it was actually just you that made him like this. He couldn't possibly imagine any pussy better than yours, it felt like it was molded perfectly just for him. The thought occurs to him, like a stroke of genius, that this was his pussy and it was molded to him. Now that you let him fuck you once, he could do it again and again and again whenever either of you liked.

He liked that idea a lot more than he probably should, his cock twitching a little at the prospect. You squeeze back and he does moan this time, deep and throaty into your neck. It's quite the sound from such a big guy, making your skin tingle excitedly. You had been the reason for it, after all, it was flattering.

"Lighter?" You say, startling him. He looks up at you from his spot against your shoulder, "Can you move? I'm too full with you just sitting there."

He blinks at you, taking in your words carefully and digesting them. Yeah, you were gonna kill him tonight. You had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"Whatever you want," He mumbles out, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before slowly pulling out.

You groan out in tandem, the drag of his cock and a squeeze of your walls more pleasurable than you'd imagined. Then he pushes back in at the same pace and you shudder in his arms. He keeps the pace slow and easy, still able to remember that he wanted to be gentle despite how much he wished to be anything but. First time, he echoed in his head, take it easy Lighter.

Each drag of his cock against your plush warm insides has you gasping out, desperate for more and more. He watches you with an intensity to rival his excitement during a fight, taking in each detail with careful consideration. The way your brows scrunch up when he brushes that gummy spot with his tip, and how your teeth tug on your lips, and the way your eyelashes flutter when his hips lay flush into yours.

Lighter never considered himself an artist, but damn if you weren't his greatest masterpiece like this. You open your eyes and finally look at him, and the intensity in his gaze has you shying away into your palms. He can't have that, he wanted to look, so he grabbed your wrists and set them on his shoulders. They curl into the skin, crescent-shaped marks sure to form in the morning.

You still try to evade his gaze, so he follows with his own face, leaning forward. "Don't hide," he coos, his hands moving your hips with his upper body so he's fully leaning over you now, the new position allowing him to not only look at you but hit much deeper than before. "Lemme see yer pretty face."

A wanton moan is ripped from your throat as he picks up his pace, and you finally look at him when he grabs at your chin. His hair is stuck to his sweaty forehead, breathing heavily as he keeps up the new speed he's set. The wild look in his eyes is enough to make you clench and get to watch in real-time the effect it has on him. Swallowing hard as his eyebrows come together in pleasured surprise.

You were making it so, so hard on him, really you were. Each reaction you had made it so much more difficult to keep himself together. When you clench around him again he lets out a sound between a sigh and a squeak. Your fingers are running along the nape of his neck and through his hair, and it's nearly got him choking on air.

You're no better, hardly even coherent as his hips continue pistoning in and out of you at such consistent pacing. The wet slapping of skin on skin is the only thing you can focus on, everything else is too much for your muddled brain to understand.

The hand that isn't keeping your eyes on him comes down to massage your clit again, fingers splayed across your abdomen to feel himself through your skin while his thumb takes care of you. He was close, and he could tell you were too. Your moans getting more and more desperate, and the squeezing you gave him more and more desperate to keep him moving.

He didn't have it in himself to say anything coherent, so instead he settled on kissing you. Sloppy and uncoordinated and more teeth than anything else, but he still kissed you. Swallowing up every moan like a man starved.

His pace grows sloppy as he chases your highs, both of you moaning unabashedly loudly. He would hear from Lucy in the morning, he was sure of it, but that didn't matter too much to him now. Not when he felt you come undone around him. Your whole body tensed, desperate little cunt squeezing him in a vice grip and moans so delicious that he couldn't help but follow your lead.

He gives one last harsh thrust, and then he unloads into the condom. He thinks for a moment that he wishes it wasn't there but focuses instead on sucking at the juncture of your neck. You writhe under him, fingers raking down his back harsh enough to leave red lines in his skin.

It was better than he had expected it to feel, that was for certain. Even as he calmed down and came back to reality, there were little sparks of pleasure ringing through his body. He kissed his way over the marks he'd left on your body, waiting patiently for you to calm down before he pulled out.

Both of you let out sounds of complaint at the loss, but he knew that he couldn't stay inside you forever (no matter how nice that sounded). He smiled warmly down at you, caressing your face with such gentleness it could make you cry. "You alright...?"

You nod, brushing the hair out of his face so you can look at him properly, "This is probably the best I've ever felt in my whole life."

That gets him to laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, "I'm glad I could be of service."

"Did you-" You start, but he doesn't let you finish before he responds.

"Yes. I did enjoy myself, very much, baby." He hums, washing away any insecurities you could've had with ease.

He eases you up into a sitting position with him, holding you there until he is sure you will stay like that by yourself. Then, he stands and digs around his dresser for a towel to wipe you down with. You take the time to admire how nice his ass is out of those skinny jeans, humming to yourself at the sight.

When he rejoins you on the bed, you smirk at him, "Your ass is nice."

"Yeah," he huffs out a laugh, "Yours ain't all that bad either."

You let him do what he needs to, wiping you of sweat and any fluids that might become uncomfortable after a while. Then he does the same for himself, and the show is rather nice. When he finishes cleaning the both of you up, he crawls into bed and pulls you to his chest.

You take your chance to trace over the scars again, admiring just how pretty his marred skin is. He doesn't say a word, and you have the understanding not to make verbal comments now. The warmth of his chest combined with the pleasant ache in your limbs was enough to lull you to sleep.

The last thing you hear is Lighter mumble a quiet, "I love you." Though you don't respond, you know he knows you feel the same way.

#zzz x reader #zenless zone zero #zzz #lighter lorenz #lighter zzz x reader #lighter zzz #lighter x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #bunni's treats 🧁

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rhaeheartzsquirrelz · 3 months ago

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Ellie Williams x Female Reader Headcannons

Only women can interact, sorry not sorry 😝

A/N: idk i got bored and just yapped (I use these for my fics btw, expect to see some of these being implemented).

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fluff .☘︎ ݁˖

Keeps everything you give her. That includes gum and candy wrappers, unopened chocolates (it’s expired and probably molding), stuffed animals, tickets, and even pencils that she accidentally ended up breaking.

She keeps a box specifically for those things.

She’s definitely a hourder. Every little trinket she sees will be hers. On the ground or not, she’ll stuff it in her pockets, bring it home, and display it on her desk for you to see. Even though she tries to be nonchalant about it.

Loves when you cook, not because she can’t but because she claims that she food tastes a thousand times better when it’s made from your hands. Also because, apparently, your special ingredient is love.

Takes you out on museum dates so she can watch as you look up in curiosity at the display of skeletal remains of a dinosaur. She likes the fact that the two of you share interests, it gives her awkward-self something to talk about.

On the topic of awkward, the first time she’d ever had a conversation with you ended up becoming the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in her life. Stuttering, pausing inbetween sentences, or just straight up forgetting what she was talking about pretty much sums it all up.

Stuffs her mouth with the sweets you bought. Next thing you know, the whole box is gone.

This woman YELLS when she’s on the game. Cursing every sentence turns into rage quitting and shutting off her console. Afterwards, she’ll immediately come to lay ontop of you and burry her face away into the crook of your neck; patiently leting you work your magic on easing her up.

Tells you that matching is childish but secretly ADORES the idea (Mainly so everyone knows you’re hers). You want matching pajamas? Done, she’s bought the two of you five pairs. Wanna get matching keychains? Ellie will handpick every trinket you like from her collection and grunt through the process of hand-making a one in a million keychain for the two of you.

She wears it everyday.

After her hard work she expects you to take care of her sore and achy fingers with extra love and attention. She’s talkin’ kiss the pain away and smother her with cuddles. Even spoil her with chocolates.

Loves when you call her baby. That special nickname gets her going; it might as well as be her motivation to wake up.

Likes being babied… (She’s not proud of it.)

Finds your weirdness endearing because she’s never been comfortable enough to openly be herself; dorky and cringe. She’d rather be nonchalant and act all tough, even though you see right through her act.

Makes dad jokes.

LOVESSS to hold your hand whenever the two of you are out. Small things like resting your head on her shoulder, giving her arm a squeeze, or even staring at her for a moment too long can get her red.

NSFW ༉‧₊˚.

She’ll memorize ever inch of your body during sex and use it as a reference for her drawings.

Her journal is now full of all the different poses the two of you had tried out.

Every little thing you do gets her giddy: squirming your hips, biting your lip, tugging at her hair, or even moaning her name, those are all the things that get her wet. Drenched even.

PS: she’ll get extra wet if you run your fingers to the back of her neck and hold onto her from there— you can ever grip at her hair and she’ll end up whining for more attention. (Even though YOU’RE the one getting strapped down.)

Likes to have you on your back with your legs spread so she can see just how good she’s doing you.

Loses her shit whenever you praise her. Whether it’s when she’s being ate out or when she’s pounding into you, she’s most likely to cum from just watching and hearing you.

Holds your hands in almost every position because that’s her silent way of showing you how mushy you make her. Also because she likes the idea that you’re still paying attention to her rather than the strap she has around her hip.

Loves how you taste. She could have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she could.

Fav combo: fingering + oral. She swears it gets you (s)creaming.

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strayingawayy · 2 months ago

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it's the little things for me

chan: folding the laundry as he admires you while you scream to lady gaga on a friday night, cleaning your spectacles/ sun glasses for you, feeding you with his own chopsticks, making sure you're on the opposite side of the traffic while crossing the street, taking strands of hair out of your mouth when you're asleep, making sure he always has time for you, rocking you in his arms while you cry, sharing the tiniest of umbrellas even if you BOTH get wet in the process, silently wiping sauce off your face while you ramble on about the latest gossip at work/uni, sends flowers to your place on random days, saying he loves you more than he loves the ocean. lee know: wearing even the most cringe frilly pink aprons you'll get him which stay stuff like 'kiss the cook' or 'mr. good lookin is cookin', learning how to make all your comfort foods, buying you stuffed toys resembling your childhood pets, always making you taste test the food he's cooking, "do you want it to be spicier? it'll help with the cold.", oiling and massaging your hair on sunday mornings, talking to you like he does with his cats whenever you're sick, screeching to songs in the car, buying stupid matching sunglasses, sharpening your pencils for you, leaving sooni, doongi and dori at his parents' claiming you spend more time with them than him, cracking your fingers when he's bored.

changbin: washing your dishes no matter how much you insist you can do it, keeping in touch with your family once you introduce them to him, giving you piggy back rides, letting you make stupidly cute hairstyles with his hair, sleeping with your stuffed toys when you're not at home, always packing your favourite toothpaste because he knows how much you despise the hotel ones, letting you win at arm wrestling, racing with you to the nearby convenience store.

hyunjin: learning your drink orders for different moods and seasons, slipping little encouraging notes with the cutest doodles into your bag, jacket pockets, underwear pile, EVERYWHERE, clicking lots of candid polaroids of you, always keeping a lipbalm in his pocket for you, making a list of places you want to visit and taking you on surprise trips, rubbing your noses together, drawing on your arms while you watch a movie, listening to you rant about your passions all. night. long.

jisung: always wanting you to share new music you like with him, buying you guys matching fluffy house slippers with the most bizarre stuff like cheese puffs or flamingos on them, decorating your shared space with childhood photos of you, singing karaoke with you until 4 am, watching panda and hamster videos together, singing you awake every morning, playing careless whisper as a way of asking you to dance with him, binging studio ghibli movies with you on days off, afternoon naps, watching fireflies together, weird nicknames like 'cake batter eater' or 'hairbrush stealer', rewatching childhood cartoons, doubling over in laughter one second and having the most serious conversations the next, "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

felix: reporting accounts which abuse skzoo >:(, always stocking up on your favourite snacks, letting you tease him over his small hands, giving you the best massages after long days, whispering and quiet laughing in silent spaces, biting your shoulder whenever you expose him in front of the boys, showing off his latest dance moves while dusting the house, giggling and rolling around in fresh sheets you just finished putting on, being your personal heater during the winters, miserably gardening together, smiling in between kisses.

seungmin: learning small phrases in your mother tongue and making sure his pronunciation is on spot, wearing animal onesies together, waking you up with your favourite cup of coffee every morning, giving you head scratches when you can't sleep, cuddling together on a rocking chair, fighting over who pays for the bill, going to fancy stores and trying out clothes only to leave without buying anything, always finding you first whenever there's a blackout, going to the local adoption center and cooing at puppies together, tracing your features while you sleep, a quick forehead kiss before he rushes to work, replacing photocards you have of other members with his own.

jeongin: "mentioned you in their story", staying on call with you when you're taking a cab at night, wearing normal shoes when he goes out with you, eating caramel popcorn at 2 am, getting on a subway and going to the nearby town because you heard it's raining there and needed a reason to dance together, laying his head on your lap while reading manga, wearing fuzzy socks, trying out stupid tiktok couple trends, pretending to be a toxic couple while grocery shopping.

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burntoutdaydreamer · 1 year ago

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Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

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Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water

Mini-Series Masterlist

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

Summary/Warnings: You and Sam try something new to help Dean with the Mark of Cain. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!

Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on A03!

“This looks kind of stupid,” you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that don’t sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.

“It’s not just stupid,” Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-“

He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.

“No moving, or you’ll make me have to start over. And none of us,” Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. “Want that.”

“Does it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Can’t we just put him in the shower?“

Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. “That is not how magic works, Samuel. We’re already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.”

“Clean of soul-“

“That wee little bellhop.” Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. “Only dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.”

“What.” Dean’s head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. “What do you mean, her breasts-“

“I mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.” Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. “Men.”

“Who the fuck was looking at her tits-“

“The bellhop, Dearie, keep up-”

“Can you just do the spell, Rowena?” You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. “Now?”

Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.

You bump Sam’s shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.” Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. “Rowena’s the best in the game, and we’re only stretching a few of the ingredients. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of you believe that, but you’re also running out of options. You’ve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean can’t keep killing people. It’s killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and you’re not stupid enough to trust her, but you’re also desperate enough to make a deal with her. She’ll do a spell to make Dean’s bloodlust refocus—make it more about things that make him happy, and less about murder—and you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.

If it works, it’s a win for everyone. Rowena doesn’t get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.

Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. “Hair.”

“What-“

“Hair, lass. The spell needs your hair.”

“Sam’s hair?” You frown. “Or my hair?”

“Preferably, both.”

You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice low—inaudible to Dean—as he mutters, “Why our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-“

“The bellhop is of no significance to Dean’s life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Mark’s corruption,” Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. “Hair.”

Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but you’re a little slower. You’re not someone Dean loves. You’re someone Dean cares about, but you’re not Sam. You don’t belong on the spell’s weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. He’d resisted this, you’d said please, and he’d caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didn’t want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot lately—Sam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through this—and it’s getting exhausting.

But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesn’t work, you can just start over and only use Sam’s hair. He has a lot of it to spare, he’ll be fine.

When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. He’d insisted on wearing his clothing in the pool—jeans, boots, flannel and all—he’s cross-legged in the water, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He still looks good. There’s an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever he’ll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until you’re wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and he’s not a burden, and if this doesn’t work, you’re going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think you’d look up at him under your lashes and he’d see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his hands—big and rough and so carefully skilled—would touch you-

“Be honest with me, Sweetheart.”

His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he won’t notice. “What?”

“Be honest,” he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesn’t look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.

“Yeah, okay. What-“

“This is dumb.”

You huff a soft, dry laugh. “It’s a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.”

“No spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Well, you’re not a witch.” You shrug. “And think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, that’s fun.”

“Bought my ass.”Dean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you and Sam stole this thing.”

“It was like, $40.” You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. “I am not paying that much for some plastic.”

“Even for a spell to save my damned soul?” Dean’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.

“You’re not damned, Dean.”

He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that it’s time to figure out what the Mark wants.

So now, in an old, dusty bar, Dean’s smiling. He hasn’t really, really smiled in a few months, and it’s incredible to see.

It aches a little that he’s smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where he’s leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from movies—he’s told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboy—but there’s a pretty strong chance it’s just Dean. It’s how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.

He’s hasn’t been Dean like that in a while, though. It’s been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but you’ve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean who’s managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when he’s in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. It’s why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why you’re facing the door in the booth—Dean always faces the door—and why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Dean’s smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isn’t you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Your attention turns to Sam—who’s looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcome—and you give him a flat glare. “What am I supposedto say to that.”

“Um, the truth? I think?” Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. “Hey!” He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. “That hurt-“

“Don’t look at him.” You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. “He needs this.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.”

“I don’t…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s weird. I read the spell-“

“Of course you read the spell-“

“Shut up, I always read the spells, it’s safer. And this one,” Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. “This one’s odd.”

“Oh no,” your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. “An odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.”

“This is why I wish you would just talk to him.” Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. “You get mean when things like this happen. And I don’t think it would be as horrible as you’ve decided it would be.”

You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. “That is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.”

He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. “I think that’s the worst case for Dean. You’d win custody.”

“Fair.” You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. “I do have a higher rate of income.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam frowns. “You make exactly what he does. Nothing.”

“Wrong. I’m a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that, we’ll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.” He makes a mock face of disgust. “We’ll die here.”

You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, “kiss ass.”

Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.

You really miss Dean. He’s just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want him—your Dean, the one that’s a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man you’ve ever known—back. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.

You look back to him in the bar—you can’t really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowd—and for a second you could’ve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasn’t because you’re something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now he’s antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowena’s terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.

You’ll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, you’ll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, you’ll just help Dean, and he won’t have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, it’s what you’ve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe he’ll turn his attention to me, and maybe he won’t, but no matter what I’ll have helped Dean.

It’s not like he doesn’t help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But that’s why you want to help.

And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but it’s helping Dean, so you’ll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when he’s better.

——————

Dean is really, really conflicted. It’s ripping him in half, because he knows he’s supposed to be polite to chicks—like the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesn’t deserve to hear—but her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesn’t want her.

Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didn’t feel like it anymore. Dean’s not great with words—he’s great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not words—and even he gets that bloodlust really isn’t the correct word for wanting something in a way that’s clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. It’s still a craving, it’s still insatiable, but it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s driving Dean to things he couldn’t really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so he’d driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didn’t have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.

Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldn’t come back. The not-bloodlust—that wasn’t a good term for it either, he’d need to come up with a better, catchier one later—had tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.

And that’s where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasn’t there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam weren’t any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldn’t keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didn’t deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.

The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyone—Dean wasn’t special—but the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Dean’s body.

That’s what won the conflict. He wouldn’t have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbye—she’d be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and weren’t overtly craving their best friends in the bar—and almost ran back to Her and Sam.

She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. “You’re back.”

“Well done, sweetheart, I am back.” Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.

“Did you, um,” She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. “Did you strike out?”

“Nah, just hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. He’d still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Sam’s voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. “Do you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-“

“Workin’ now. I feel good.” Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.

“Good?”

Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. “Real good,” he says Her name through his mouthful—crumbs falling out of his mouth—and she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He can’t hold it. He’s not even supposed to be talking right now—that was the deal he’d made with himself—so holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and that’s the last thing Dean wants to do. He’s freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.

Dean’s usually really good at making Her smile. He’s proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.

She’s not smiling now. She’s tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.

“You’re good.” She repeats his words slowly, but it doesn’t sound like she believes them. “And you think the spell worked.”

“Did work.” Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. “Don’t think it did, I know it did.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.

“Hey!” Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. “What the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-”

“It’s distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-“

“It did work. I don’t want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-“ He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Look, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.”

Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grin—all teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, I’m not going to kill anyone—but Sam’s attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tired—Dean still needs to make her smile—but she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.

“If he’s really good,” Sam’s pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. They’re a team, he’s allowed to hear this stuff. “We should get back to Kansas tonight. It’s not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-“

“I know,” She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesn’t smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. “Do you want to finish that, or-“

“Gimme three-“

“Chew, Dean.”

He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.

“Holy crap, dude.“ Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. “That was really fast, even for you.”

Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. “Don’t blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.”

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until She’s on her feet and they can follow Sam together.

“Not-bloodlust is a bad name,” She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. “What about, uh, what’s the opposite of blood?”

“Dunno.” Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. “Water? Waterlust?”

That gets him a small, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s my lust.”

“It is.” She meets Dean’s eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like she’s trying to find something on Dean’s face he doesn’t know how to get for her. “And if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.”

“Betterlust?“

“Starts with B,” Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. “Fun to say. Makes sense, too, you’re lusting after better stuff.”

Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good name—better than not-bloodlust—and he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.

“Betterlust it is, Sweetheart.” He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, I’m a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because I’m a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.

End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

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@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

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hotchner-edu · 8 months ago

Text

Down We Go | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: Aaron takes you shopping and you both find yourselves in a predicament when you run into his team and they recognize you as Jack's friend. — part 3 of (one and two)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (r is over 22, Aaron is in his late 40's), fluff, best friend's father trope

"Not to alarm you or anything, honey, but you do realize how this looks to others, right?" You ask, voice tinged with unbridled amusement as you suppress a laugh.

Aaron blinks at you blankly, trying to figure out what you were talking about as the clerk shuffles away to bag up the necklace he was buying for you.

"Aaron, you look like my sugar daddy right now." You explain with a snicker, pinching his side as his eyes widen a bit.

"There's no way people are actually thinking that, right?" He asks almost incredulously as he glances around and curls his arm around your waist.

You shrug and lean into his side, "We're in the right age range for that to be an appropriate assumption." You joke quietly, not bothered by the lingering stares you could feel from other mall patrons.

"When did a man buying his girlfriend jewelry become a crime." He grumbles in false exasperation, thanking the clerk when she comes back and passes the gift bag over the glass display case.

You smile as he carries it for you, taking his hand as he leads you out of the store. "You tell me. You're the one that works with social taboos for a living, Mr. Unit Chief."

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmurs under his breath, a small smile accompanying his complaint.

"You love me." You grin cheekily and bump your hip against his as you both walk. "Now, let's go buy some more ties for you."

"What about that pretzel you wanted earlier?" His asks, already relenting to your sudden suggestion. He lets you drag him toward a multi-story department store at the end of the mall, the glossy floors and milling patrons drawing you both in.

"Forget about the pretzel, honey." You rush out, glancing back at him to see the familiar defeated smile on his face that you've grown accustomed to.

He gives a big sigh and tugs your hand back gently so he's walking closer to you again, pressing you against his side. "Don't think I'm not aware that you just want an excuse to see me wearing more ties."

"Aaron, if you were me, you'd understand this obsession that I harbor." You jokingly lament, looking down at your phone and scrolling past the very appropriately-timed flash of your lockscreen, a selfie (that you begged him to take) of him in his suit while he was on his lunch break.

Just as you both cross into the threshold of the department store, you hear a surprised call of Aaron's name. "Hotch?"

Both you and Aaron spin on your heels to see a small group of people staring at you both. Sifting through your memories, you quickly deduce that it was his BAU team, recognizing them from the various photos he's shown you.

"JJ... Hi." He says politely, nodding to the rest of his teammates who were now gawking at you. "Having a good weekend so far?"

The woman— JJ, nods and smiles faintly, eyes flitting to observe you for a millisecond. "Yes, we all decided to just walk around after grabbing brunch."

"So... gonna introduce us?" A man you recognized as Derek speaks up, sharing a look around the group.

Aaron pauses for a second before squeezing your waist reassuringly and clearing his throat. "Right... guys, this is Y/N. Honey, this is my team." He keeps the introduction short, clearly knowing they'd likely interrogate you anyway.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Y/N..." Derek mutters your name softly after greeting you, trying to get a feel for its familiarity. "Huh, you have the same name as Jack's friend." He says, pausing as the last syllable leaves his lips.

You see JJ and Emily cringe a bit at his cluelessness, clearly having realized who you were a bit before him. "Ah, yes, that's me." You answer sheepishly, smiling and meeting his gaze evenly.

Penelope, who you recognize from her colorful jewelry and joyful disposition, is quick to recover from her shock as she gasps and looks at you. “Oh my gosh, I love your shoes!”

“Oh, thank you!” You’re quick to accept the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I bought them a couple of weeks ago.”

“You’ll have to come shopping with us!” Penelope excitedly says, looking as though she was already planning out the entire trip in her head.

Emily nods warmly,. “Oh please do, I’m dying for a new dress. Even if we barely have the time to go out these days.” She jokes and rolls her eyes playfully.

“I would love to. Though I think Aaron will be the first to tell you that the last thing I need to do is more shopping.” You jest back, feeling Aaron’s hand rubbing your back slowly.

“Whatever makes you happy.” Aaron speaks up to defend himself, amusement decorating his tone as he tries to hide his little smile.

“So it’s settled then.” JJ chuckles, motioning for the group to start walking as to not create foot traffic.

Penelope flashes you a bright grin, starting to walk. "No wonder you declined for brunch, sir. But worry not, all is forgiven!"

You direct your attention back to Aaron and you frown a bit, feeling guilty for causing him to miss a team bonding day. "I thought you said you had no plans today, honey."

Aaron shakes his head gently and swiftly wraps his arm around your waist again. "I wanted to spend the day with you."

You eye him a bit with faux uncertainty before catching Derek's gaze.

“So… I have to ask. How did this happen?” Derek says, motioning between the both of you as he walks beside Aaron.

Aaron looks to you and lets you explain, knowing you always got a good kick out of telling the story. “Jack accidentally set us up together on a blind date.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise up and he huffs out a light chuckle, shaking his head. Spencer speaks up for the first time, eyebrows furrowed as he turns back a bit while he walks. “Accidentally?”

“Yeah, he had an elaborate plan to set me and Aaron up on different dates at different places, but he accidentally sent me the wrong address. And much to his absolute chagrin, we hit it off.” You elaborate with a lighthearted tone.

“He set you both up on dates on the same day?” Spencer clarifies, looking a bit befuddled.

“Between you and me, I think he just wanted some peace and quiet.” You joke, smiling when the group lets out small laughs.

Derek crosses his arms and glances at Aaron, eyes glinting in playfulness. “So this is why you’ve been all giddy these past few weeks?”

You snort, the mental image of your no-nonsense boyfriend suddenly being go-lucky at the office popping into your head. “Giddy?” You ask and raise an eyebrow at Aaron.

“I have not been giddy.” He deadpans, seemingly trying to inch away from the group with every passing second.

“Oh, no, you’ve been pretty cheerful, sir.” Penelope chimes in from in front of you.

“Yeah, I mean he’s even going back home at reasonable hours.” Emily says to you playfully.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you’d leave the office with work still on your desk.” Derek adds.

You chuckle and squeeze his hand. “Really now? He’s still putting on the workaholic facade around me. He told me that he's just been getting less paperwork lately. Good to know you’re whipped, honey.”

Aaron rolls his eyes fondly and just sighs in defeat. You have been trying to instill a sense of self-concern in Aaron, texting him almost every night to make sure he got home before midnight.

You end up walking around with his team for almost an hour, swapping stories about Aaron and getting to know them. By the time you all decide to part ways, you've gotten the girls' numbers and been put into a groupchat with them.

"I'd say that went well." You muse happily and walk with Aaron to his car. "I was nervous they wouldn't be super receptive of the relationship. I was certain Derek would throw in a few quips about you being a cradle robber."

"Oh don't worry, Dave's already got that base covered." Aaron sighs to veil his fondness.

"A little office banter can't hurt." You tease, knowing about his bond with the older agent. "And I can't believe you really almost fought that death-row convict! With your bare hands, too!" You say suddenly, recalling Spencer's little anecdote.

He exhales through his nose as he can feel the carefully crafted line between his work life and his personal life blurring. "He was intending to kill me and Reid."

"Well, I'm happy that you're always ready to defend yourself." You reassure him, grinning when he gazes at you softly. "I feel like I learned so much about you today."

"I don't want to indulge too much into my work." He says quietly, leaving no room for question. "It's not something you have to hear."

"But it's a huge part of your life. I don't need all the grisly details, of course. I just want you to be able to talk to me when you've had a hard case... when you're not feeling great about something that happened on the field." You supply with a gentle tone.

Aaron stays quiet for a moment and you take the chance to continue. "You don't have to hold your burdens in, Aaron. You've always stayed strong for everyone around you, so lean on me."

When you both get to his car, he gently guides you to face him, trapping you between the passenger door and his body. He leans to kiss your forehead as an adoring look ripples across his expression. "Thank you, sweetheart." He whispers against your skin and brushes his thumb across your cheek.

"Just doing what I can." You speak quietly, rubbing his sides a bit.

"Will you stay tonight? At my house." He requests with a tender look in his eyes. Even if you wanted to decline, the vulnerable expression painted across his face is enough to have your heart swelling with affection.

You nod and pull him in for a chaste kiss. "Of course."

When you and Aaron make it back to the Hotchner residence, you're immediately greeted by Jack's narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I just missed you too much." You say with sarcastic longing, opening your arms for him.

His face twists in playful disgust and he tosses a pillow at you. "Ew, what the hell."

"Kidding. I'm staying the night." You explain with a light chuckle as you duck away from the pillow.

The soft object hits Aaron's chest and he shakes his head, dropping a kiss to your temple and placing the pillow back on the couch before walking up the stairs. "I'll be in the shower, honey."

"What's that?" Jack asks, stuffing some popcorn into his mouth as he pauses the show playing on the tv.

You hold up the small bag in your hand and walk toward him. "This?"

"Yeah, what'd you get?"

You pull out the tissue paper and hand him the small jewelry box. "Aaron bought me a necklace."

"Please don't tell me you're his sugar baby now. That's my inheritance you're messing with, you know." Jack huffs, looking at the necklace with interest.

You joke and take the box back. "Oh don't worry, you're already off the will."

part 4 here

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