#if they don’t do that I’m gonna be surprised | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 15 hours

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𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

The dim glow of the studio lights reflected off the stacks of equipment, casting long shadows across the room. You leaned against the doorway, watching Chan furiously click through different tracks on his laptop, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The clock on the wall ticked past 2 AM, but for him, it seemed like time had no meaning. He’d been working on this track for hours, refusing to take a break even when you’d suggested it earlier. "Chan," you called out softly, but he didn’t respond. The constant hum of the music filled the space, his mind completely absorbed in his work. You sighed, stepping into the room, stifling a yawn. “You need to relax,” you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice. “You act like the world’s gonna fall apart if you don’t finish this track tonight.” His hands stilled on the keyboard. The playful smile you wore faded when he didn’t respond. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, pulling away as if your touch burned him. “I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softer this time. “You’ve been at this for hours. Just take a break. It’s not healthy to push yourself like this.” Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, but instead, he closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate movement. The air in the room seemed to thicken, tension radiating off him in waves. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to help.” He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with more force than necessary. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know it’s not healthy?" His voice was low but filled with barely restrained frustration. "I don’t have the luxury of taking breaks whenever I feel like it." Your heart sank at the bitterness in his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished. “Every time I stop, every time I take a moment for myself, I fall behind. I have responsibilities, expectations-” He finally looked up at you, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something deeper, something raw. “I’m the leader. I’m the one holding everything together.” You felt a lump form in your throat as you realized how deeply you’d misunderstood the situation. You had meant your words lightly, but they had triggered something in him - something he had been keeping bottled up for too long. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, taking a cautious step toward him. He looked tired. Oh so tired. And while you were more than sure people had seen his tiredness, you knew that they weren't aware of even the fraction of exhaustion he was feeling now that you were looking at it from two feet away. “I just…I didn’t realize how much pressure you were under. I mean I was aware, but I didn't think it was to this extent.” Chan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t realize because I don’t show it. I can’t afford to.” The room was suffocatingly silent, the weight of his confession sinking in. You had never seen him like this- — so vulnerable, so... broken. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t appreciate everything you do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know how hard you work, Chan.” He shook his head, his expression distant, as though he were already miles away from you, even while standing right there. “Just... leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned away from you, walking toward the door. “I need to finish this.” You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but the look in his eyes had warned you against it. There was a wall between you now — one you hadn’t meant to build but had somehow erected with a few careless words. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty studio, your heart heavy with regret and a sinking feeling that you’d hurt him far more than you’d ever intended.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

It had been a long day, and as you and Minho sat together in the living room of your apartment, the remnants of dinner still scattered across the table, you found yourself in one of those easy conversations where words flowed without much thought. You both had been teasing each other, poking fun at small quirks and habits, but then you said something - a single sentence that changed everything. "You can be so cold sometimes, Minho." You laughed. It slipped out so casually, but the moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had made a mistake. The room seemed to freeze, the playful banter dying on your lips as you watched Minho’s expression shift. His face went from light-hearted to something unreadable - his eyes darkening, his smile fading into a thin line. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence in the room grew suffocating. "Cold, huh?" His voice was quiet, almost emotionless, but you could feel the tension building in him, like a storm just waiting to break. He traced his index finger around the mug in front of him. You immediately tried to backtrack. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-" But Minho cut you off, standing up abruptly from the couch and turning his back to you. "No, I get it," he said flatly, his shoulders stiff. "You think I’m cold." The way he said it, so detached and hollow, made your stomach twist with guilt. You had known Minho long enough to realize that, behind his sharp exterior, he was someone who felt deeply, even if he didn’t always show it. But now, it seemed like you had confirmed his worst fear - that people only saw the distant, guarded version of him. "Minho, wait," you pleaded, standing up and reaching for him, but he took a step away, avoiding your touch. "Don’t," he said, his voice sharper now. "If that’s how you see me, then fine. I don’t need to hear more." You watched helplessly as he walked toward your bedroom, his posture rigid, shutting himself off from you with every step. The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing alone in the living room, your heart sinking with the weight of what had just happened. The thing about Minho was that, while he came across as tough and indifferent to most people, you knew there was a part of him that feared being misunderstood. He was always careful with his emotions, keeping them tightly locked behind that sarcastic, cool demeanor. It was one thing you loved about being with him, that you were one of the only ones who knew him well enough to see behind that exterior. To know and see him so deeply to know his true self; one that he didn't show everyone. But tonight, with one careless comment, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurity. And it hurt you that you did that. Hours passed, and the tension in the air didn’t lift. You tried knocking on the bedroom door, offering a quiet apology, but he never answered. It felt like a wall had sprung up between the two of you, one made of all the sharp edges he used to protect himself from getting hurt. That night, you lay awake, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, each time wishing you could take back the words. You had never seen Minho so distant, and the thought that you had caused it filled you with a gnawing guilt.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

It had been a tough day, the kind that leaves you exhausted to the core. Changbin had just gotten back from the studio, a heavy frown weighing down his usually bright expression. You could tell something was off the moment he walked through the door - his usual energy dampened, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

You had asked him about it, but he shrugged it off with a noncommittal, “Just tired.” Still, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Later that evening, as you both sat in the living room, watching a movie that neither of you were paying attention to, you tried again to break through the silence. Changbin was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, his jaw clenched.

“You seem really down lately,” you said gently, looking at him from across the couch. “Is everything okay?”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but still didn’t say much. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You weren’t convinced. “You don’t seem fine. You’ve been so quiet lately.”

And that’s when you said it - the words you immediately regretted.

“You’re always talking about how hard you work, but maybe you should take a break. Sometimes it’s like you think you have to prove yourself constantly...but you don’t.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You had said it because you cared, because you had watched him work himself to the bone without ever showing any signs of slowing down. But the moment the words left your lips, you saw Changbin’s entire demeanor change.

His fingers tightened around his phone, and his eyes narrowed as he set it down on the coffee table. When he looked at you, his gaze was sharp, defensive.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice low, though you could hear the edge in it.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I just mean...you don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time.”

His jaw clenched tighter, and suddenly, the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite grasp. Changbin sat up straighter, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at you.

“You think I’m overcompensating or something?” he asked, his tone colder than you’d ever heard from him. “Like I’m not good enough, so I have to try harder?”

You were stunned by his reaction, your heart starting to race. “No, that’s not what I meant-” You stuttered.

“Then what did you mean?” he interrupted, his voice louder now, almost confrontational. “Because it sounds like you think I’m not doing enough. Like I’m not enough.” You froze at his tone.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never seen Changbin like this - defensive, hurt, and shutting you out. He was usually the one with the most confidence, always sure of himself. But now, it was as if you had shattered something inside him, something you didn’t even know was fragile.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice faltering. “I just- I know how hard you work, and I worry about you.”

Changbin stood up, his movements tense, as if trying to escape the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. His frustration was palpable.

“Worry about me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what it’s like. You don’t get it. Everyone expects me to be this - this strong, perfect version of myself. If I stop for even a second, I feel like I’ll fall behind, like I’ll fail.”

You stood up too, reaching out for him, but he took a step back, creating more distance between you. His words cut through you like glass, the raw emotion behind them catching you off guard.

“I never said you were failing, Changbin. I just-"

“You didn’t have to,” he snapped, his voice filled with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “But that’s what it feels like. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And now you’re telling me the same thing. The one person I would think wouldn't tell me that!”

His eyes were dark, filled with frustration and hurt. The walls he had carefully built around himself over the years were crumbling, and you were standing in the wreckage, helpless to fix it.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

But he wasn’t listening. He turned away from you, his hands gripping the back of a chair, his knuckles white with tension.

“I need to be alone,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “I can’t do this right now.”

You watched him walk away, your heart breaking as the distance between you seemed to grow wider with every step he took. The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed through the apartment, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart heavy with regret.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

You hadn’t meant to upset him. The last thing you wanted was to make Hyunjin feel small or inadequate, but somehow, in the middle of a conversation that had started so innocently, you said something you couldn’t take back.

The two of you were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, an empty bowl of ice cream between you as you talked about the latest art exhibit he’d visited. Hyunjin’s eyes always lit up when he talked about art - it was a passion that fueled him just as much as music. But tonight, something was off.

He had been unusually quiet the whole evening, his usual spark dulled. You had noticed it right away but thought maybe he was just tired. Still, the longer the silence stretched, the more concerned you became.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

Hyunjin sighed, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. It’s just...I’ve been feeling a little off lately.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue. “Off? How?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before finally answering. “I’ve been feeling like...I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am. Like I’m just pretending to be this perfect version of myself. When I see other people’s work, especially in art, I can’t help but compare myself. I feel like I’ll never be able to reach that level.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you wanted to reassure him, to tell him how talented he was. But instead, without thinking, you said, “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. No one expects you to be.”

His expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, and you realized too late what you had just implied.

“So...you...think I’m not good enough?” he asked, his voice quieter but laced with hurt.

Your stomach dropped. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” His tone grew sharper, and you could see the cracks forming in the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Because it sounds like you’re saying I’m not living up to everyone’s expectations. Let alone yours.”

“I just meant you’re already enough,” you said quickly, panic rising in your chest. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t hearing you. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he began pacing around the room. His long fingers ran through his hair in frustration.

“Do you know how hard I try?” His voice wavered, a mix of anger and sadness. “Every day, I’m fighting to be better, to live up to the image everyone has of me. People look at me and expect me to be this flawless, beautiful person who has everything figured out. But I don’t! I don’t have it all together.”

You stood up, following him as he paced. “Hyunjin, I know you-”

“Do you?” He turned to face you, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion you couldn’t name. “Because it feels like you think I’m not good enough either. Like I’m just pretending.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The Hyunjin you knew - the sensitive, artistic soul who poured his heart into everything he did -was unraveling before your eyes, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“That’s not true,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I think you’re incredible. I just-”

“Then why does it feel like you don’t believe in me?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m constantly failing?”

You were at a loss for words. Every attempt to reassure him seemed to make things worse, and the walls he had put up between you were growing taller by the second.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” you whispered, your own tears threatening to spill over.

Hyunjin shook his head, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself together. “I just...I can’t do this right now. I need space.”

The finality in his voice made your heart break. He turned away from you, heading toward the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, alone and devastated.

The silence that followed his departure was deafening, and as you stared at the empty space where he had stood, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just lost him for good.

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#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz stay #stray kids #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz #christopher bang #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #skz hyung line #stray kids angst #pnutbutternjelyy #🥜🧈🪼

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lokisfirecracker · 2 days

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toxic, older man!price x reader

summary; you catch price flirting with someone else when you’re out on a date together, you argue but price manages to plant seeds in your head that you were overreacting. this is you coming back to him, because john is always right, and he would never hurt you, right?

warnings- toxic, abusive relationship, smut, public sex, voyeurism, humiliation, boot humping

—————

it had only been 2 days since your argument with john. you’d thought that he was in the wrong, when you caught him chatting up a pretty blonde whilst he waited for you to be done in the bathroom at the local pub.

you’d thought he was in the wrong when he’d denied their conversation being flirty, saying that he could never want someone that wasn’t you, even though his hand had been awfully close to her ass.

you’d started being confused about who was in the wrong when he’d complained about you always picking holes in every little thing he did, that he felt like he was being suffocated by you, before storming out, leaving you to find your own way home.

now, 2 days later, you knew that he was right, you had been more clingy than usual lately, and you had been tending to tell him off when really, the things he’d been doing weren’t that bad. you shouldn’t have complained about him looking down the waitress’ top last week when you were on another date, he couldn’t help that his eyes were at the same level as her tits! it’s not his fault that his chair was the perfect height.

you were missing him desperately, wishing that you’d just kept you mouth shut so you could be with him right now. you’d been on the fence about calling him, not sure if he’d even want you anymore after your spout. so instead, you decided that the best course of action, was to get absolutely plastered and pretend nothing happened.

admittedly, it wasn’t the best plan you could’ve come up with, and you were slightly regretting it now that you’d found yourself stood on john’s doorstep, in the sluttiest outfit you had, hand hovering by the door because you were too scared to knock.

luckily for you, he opened the door, unlit cigar in one hand. your eyes welled up immediately at the sight of him, feeling overwhelmed with relief from how much you’d missed him.

he sighed heavily, not looking at all surprised to see you and leaned up against the door frame, “you come to apologise for your behaviour?”

you quickly looked down, tears streaming down your face and cooling your warmed cheeks. now that you were here, you were unsure what to say. how could you ever make it up to him, what could you do to repay him for being so mean and inconsiderate to your poor boyfriend.

“you gonna answer me? or did y’come just here to yell and embarrass me again?”

his words only made you cry harder, wishing you could go back to before and have your john back. you swear that you’ll never complain about him again if he forgives you, you’d do anything he asked.

“no i-,” your own sobs cut you off, and you scrambled to find the right words, eyes lifting to meet his. “i’m so sorry, i was so cruel, i didn’t mean to.”

“so you just meant to upset me then, just didn’t mean to do it so publicly?” he sneered, titling his to the side a little. the floor beneath him creaked as he pushed off the frame, stepping closer to you.

you rushed to shake your head, doing it so quickly that your head swarmed, stumbling a little.

“don’t be so pathetic, it doesn’t suit you baby,”

you whimpered quietly, “i didn’t want to hurt you at all, i promise. please, i need you, please don’t leave me. i promise i’ll be good. just tell me what to do and i’ll do it, please.”

your breathing was laboured, and your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. you waited whilst he considered, hoping that whatever he chose, that it would be enough for him to consider forgiveness.

“on your knees,” he commanded, finally lighting the cigar and taking a pull.

you dropped down, feeling the twang in your knees that you knew meant they’d be black and blue later. you looked up at him, waiting patiently for his next order as tears continued to fall, “hump my boot.”

you moved to do as he’d asked, not wanting to be seen hesitating and he change his mind. you carefully lifted yourself up, and placed your weight down onto his leather boot. your tears finally began to dry up as you loosely wrapped your arms around his strong leg.

going slowly at first, you rubbed your cunt along his shoe, trying to avoid the laces. you tried your best to put on a show for him, wanting to make him pleased at your actions, but the feeling of the leather grinding against your clit was disturbingly good.

just as you were getting lost in twisted pleasure, you heard a long whistle from down the street behind you. your head whipped around, stunting your movements on his shoe. a couple of men had gathered around to watch, and you hadn’t even realised. had they been there the whole time? did you know them? it was too dark to be able to recognise them, but the porch light above john made you very visible to them. you only hoped they couldn’t see the way your swollen cunt was glistening against the leather.

you felt a rough tug to your hair, and squealed as he said, “did i fucking tell you to stop?” you shook your head again, knowing that any words you said would only anger him further at this point, and john didn’t tolerate prolonged disobedience.

resuming your movements, you tried not to think about the strangers, and focused only john and your quickly approaching orgasm.

you’d never felt so humiliated in your life, but you knew you deserved this. after all, this is how he must of felt outside that pub bathroom, with all those people around, watching. really, if you thought about it, you were quite lucky to only have a couple people watching you. john had been very generous with his punishment, and you’d happily take it like a good girl if it made him happy.

legs shaking, you moaned into his thigh, calling out his name like a chant. pleasure flowed through you as you released your cum onto his now shining boot. you collapsed against him, feeling exhausted and embarrassed. he gently pulled you up and into his arms, pressing his hard bulge into you as you tried to recover.

before you could realise what he was doing, you felt him flip up the back of your skirt, followed by a sharp burn against your ass check. you gasped, trying to move away from the source of pain. he shushed you as you began to cry again, rubbing your back and discarding the rest of the now put out cigar onto the floor.

“did so well for me, sweetheart. you’re forgiven, been such a good girl, haven’t you? how could i ever stay mad at that pretty face of yours, hm?”

he picked you up and walked around back into his house, slamming the door shut with his foot behind him.

your body continued to tremble as he placed you down onto his bed, lovingly tucking your hair behind your ears. he moved back to undo your laces and take off your shoes, focus moving back over to your face every once in a while. next, he unzipped the side of your skirt, and pulled your top off, leaving you in only your soaked underwear.

he admired the view, smiley softly when your eyes met and crawled up the bed to lay beside you. you always craved these moments with him, where you knew he loved you, where you knew that you were the one he wanted right now. you’d go to much further lengths than you had tonight on the porch to make him happy, if it meant that this is what you got in return. nothing felt this good.

he pulled you closer, his hold on your body tight, almost uncomfortably so, before his face turned serious, “you ever embarrass me again, and i’ll fucking kill ya, you hear me?”

you sniffled, eyes widening a little but refusing to squirm from his arms, “i won’t ever, i promise john,”

“good, that’s good,”

and just like that, he was his happy self again, like you’d never argued, like he hadn’t just threatened to take you life, like you didn’t know that he meant it. everything was good again, just don’t you dare say a word when the next week, you catch him sending pictures of his dick to his “doctor”.

—————

any feedback in the comments is massively appreciated <3

#john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #price smut #price x reader #captain price #captain johnathan price #price cod #cod 141 #cod smut #cod mw2 #my work #my works

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seungkw1 · 3 days

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pretty little present — smg

♡ pairing: bf!mingi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut ♡ wc: 2.5k ♡ warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, size kink (obviously), reader wears lingerie, mingi picks up reader and carries them, masturbation (f. & m.), oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), dacryphilia, possessiveness, creampie, reader gets one (1) hickey, pet names (princess, doll, babygirl), great aftercare, fluff ending ♡ a/n: i don’t normally write atz but bestie @myhimbomingi requested a mingi fic and i absolutely said yes!! i had such a fun time writing him hehe

The soft light of early dawn filters through your eyelids as you slowly drift into consciousness. You roll over, flopping your arm over your sleeping boyfriend to snuggle up next to him - but your hand hits nothing but the bedsheets. You sleepily pry your eyes open to see his side of the bed vacant. You grab your phone to check your texts - sure enough, you have a message from Mingi, sent at 6:14am:

good morning babe :) sorry to leave without saying goodbye but i didnt wanna wake u, u looked so cute!! i had to leave early for work today but i promise i’ll make it up to u! i left u a present on the counter, we’ll put it to good use tonight ;) love you ❤️

You were planning on going back to sleep, but now you're simply too curious. You hop out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. There, on the counter, you see a flat, gift-wrapped box - creamy white in color with baby pink ribbons tying it together. Whatever it is, it looks expensive. You untie the pastel bow and remove the lid. Underneath several layers of crisp white tissue paper, you find your present: a lingerie set.

The set is jet black, made of silky mesh adorned with lace and satin ribbons. It’s light as a feather, buttery soft to the touch - clearly a luxury item. You've never worn anything like it in your life, but it's beautiful.

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend.

got your gift, hurry home to me ;)

The typing bubble immediately pops up. Within seconds he responds.

i will baby 😘

The day passes at an annoyingly slow pace. You didn't have much to do today anyway, so you try to occupy yourself with chores, but you can't help daydreaming about what all Mingi will be doing to you later.

Finally, evening rolls around - Mingi will be home soon.

You take a quick shower to freshen up, afterwards donning your new lingerie set. With all its various straps it takes you a few minutes to even figure out how to get it on, but once you do you step in front of your full length mirror to check it out. You knew it was gonna be really pretty on, but you look fucking hot. You start thinking about how feral it's going to make Mingi - quickly ruining the delicate panties at the mere thought of him.

You grab some leggings and a big tshirt and throw them on. Another peek in the mirror verifies that you can't tell what you're wearing underneath the comfy clothes - all the more perfect to surprise him with.

A few minutes later, you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened.

“Babe, I’m home!” Mingi calls out.

You flutter on over to meet him, practically skipping as you jump into his arms. He pulls you in for a big kiss, placing his large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair softly as he holds you tight against him. As his lips depart from yours, he smiles, gazing at you with pure love.

“I missed you,” you tell him as you place your hand on his chest.

“I missed you too,” he replies as he kisses your forehead.

“Soooo,” he starts as he tosses his bag down and kicks his shoes off. “What do you say we try out your new present?”

“Already?” you reply coyly. “Don’t you wanna eat dinner first?”

“It can wait,” he says as he lightly grabs onto your chin. His voice turns low and rumbly.

“I’d rather eat you.”

You giggle. “Well somebody's horny.”

“I've been thinking about you all day - thinking about how good you're gonna look in your gift.” He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “Gonna be my pretty little present.”

He grabs the hem of your tshirt, starting to pull it off of you.

“Why don't we get you out of these clothes already and-”

He stops. He’s lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the black lacy lingerie underneath.

“Oh.”

“One step ahead of you, baby,” you say sweetly.

“Fuckkkkk,” he groans. He helps you lift your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it aside as he takes in the sight of you. The mesh lining of the bra is entirely sheer, putting your nipples on full display. The coolness of the room combined with how turned on you’re getting makes them perk up, poking through the delicate fabric.

He brushes his fingers over the protruding buds, making them even harder. He licks his lips as he gazes at you, the love in his eyes quickly turning into lust.

You reach for the waist of your leggings, sliding them off of you to reveal the rest of the set. You kick them aside, standing up before him to show yourself off.

“Turn around for me,” Mingi commands.

You give him a twirl, wiggling your butt as your back faces him. He grabs onto you with both hands, squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

You let him touch you for a few moments before you spin around, grabbing his hands as you pull him with you toward the bedroom.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” you tease.

Before you can take another step you feel your feet depart from the ground - Mingi grabs you by the waist, lifting you off the floor as he picks you up. He practically tosses you over his shoulder as he carries you down the hallway, his arm wrapped tightly around your torso as he holds you against him.

“Hey!!” you shout, but a big grin spreads across your face. So he’s in this kind of mood. You know he’s about to throw you around, have his way with you - even more so than normal. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation.

You arrive at the bedroom. Mingi tosses you onto the bed - you land on your back, resting upon the pile of pillows. You keep your legs open, showing off your pussy through the sheer fabric of your underwear.

“So wet for me already,” he says as he runs two fingers lightly across your clothed slit. He gives your cunt a gentle smack.

“Touch yourself for me, princess. Leave your panties on.”

You obediently slide your fingers to your core. Mingi quickly pulls his shirt over his head, then reaches for his belt. You begin stroking your clit through the soft mesh as you watch him remove his clothes, freeing the large bulge that has formed in his pants. He pulls his boxers down, his length springing free. As many times as you’ve had sex with him, you’re still always taken aback by his size. His cock is thick, long, hard - precum already dribbling from his tip. He strokes himself a few times as he watches you. You slip your fingers underneath your panties, sliding them into your opening. You moan softly at the sensation - but you know this is absolutely nothing compared to how much his cock is going to fill you up.

He watches you slowly fuck yourself for a minute, gripping his length in his fist. As you start to wriggle slightly to your own touch, he steps forward. You yelp as he grabs you by the ankles, yanking you toward the edge of the mattress. He kneels down, leaning against the bed, positioning his face in front of your cunt. His hands slide up the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up and into the bed, nearly folding you in half as he opens you up even further before him. He sticks his tongue out, dragging its tip ever so lightly over your clit through the panties - it’s enough to drive you insane.

“Mingi,” you whine, trying to push yourself into his mouth. He retracts his head, not letting you get what you want just yet.

“What’s that, baby?” he asks. The way he’s staring at you, you can tell he is dying to taste you - but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to taunt you a bit.

“Please,” you softly mumble under your breath.

“Use your words, doll. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me,” you manage to utter, still trying to push your cunt against his mouth - but his grip on you is too strong. “Want you to make me cum.”

“Like this?” he asks, teasing you once more as his tongue dances over your pussy.

“God, yes,” you cry. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind if he delays any further.

“Or,” he continues as he reaches beneath the hem of your panties, pulling them aside. The coolness of the air hits your soaked core, countered by the hot exhales of Mingi’s breath against you. “Like this…”

He dives into you, his warm mouth greeting your cunt as his tongue traces between your folds. He sticks the tip into your hole - you’re so wet right now that it slips in with ease. You groan as he fucks you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit as he swirls his tongue around inside you. He pulls it out, flattening his tongue and licking a big stripe up your center before latching onto your clit. You cry out at the overpowering stimulation, writhing beneath Mingi’s strong arms as he sucks on the sensitive bud. A white-hot sensation swells in your gut, burning delightfully as you feel your orgasm approach. Your body tenses, your legs beginning to quiver as Mingi devours you. You reach for his head, grasping onto his hair as your climax takes over. You scream out Mingi’s name as you cum on his face, his tongue moving relentlessly against your clit as you ride out your high. He grips onto you until the very end, face buried in your pussy as you come down. Just when you think it’s over, he starts up again, sucking on your clit as he slips his fingers into you, curling them perfectly to reach your g-spot. Within moments, you’re cumming again, grinding against his tongue as overwhelming pleasure courses through your veins. He slows his motions, giving your clit a few last gentle licks as he slides his fingers out of you. They’re dripping wet, as is his entire chin - he places them in his mouth, licking them clean, making sure he doesn’t waste a single drop of you.

You lay there, your chest rising up and down with heavy breaths as you try to recover. Mingi crawls up to meet your face, kissing you slowly on the mouth as he lays his weight upon you - resting on his forearms so he doesn’t completely squish you. You feel his cock throbbing against your cunt as he makes out with you - you can just tell he is unbearably hard.

Mingi’s lips part from yours - barely, just enough so he can gaze into your eyes as he strokes your hair.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nuzzles his head into your neck, sucking at your skin - lightly, but enough that you know it’ll leave a mark.

“Anything for my princess,” he whispers into your ear.

He stands up, pulling your hips toward him. He grabs onto the panties, ripping them off of you and throwing them aside. He lines his cock up with your entrance; he pushes just the head in, but he’s already stretching you out. Slowly he slides his full length into you - you cry out at the overwhelming fullness. He rests inside you for a few moments, letting you get used to his size. You begin shifting your hips, trying to ride his cock from beneath him. Mingi grins.

“So eager,” he coos, tracing his fingers over your stomach. “Are you ready babygirl?”

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, nodding your head swiftly.

He begins fucking you, steadily at first, but your cries quickly makes him increase his pace. Tears flow from your eyes as his thickness stretches you with each motion. He grasps tightly onto your hips, pulling you against him as he thrusts into you. He looks down at you, his pretty baby, losing all composure on his cock. He moans loudly, uninhibited - he doesn’t care if the whole world hears him. He wants everybody to know you’re his.

He reaches down, feeling your breasts through the lacy sheer bra.

“So pretty,” he groans. “So perfect, all mine.”

His hand slides down to your stomach, pushing down on your abdomen as he fucks you. The other reaches for your clit - you didn’t think you could possibly cum again, but the gentle pressure of his fingers combined with his cock nearly splitting you in half just feels too good.

“Gonna cum,” you manage to get out, barely able to speak through your cries of pleasure.

“Cum for me babygirl,” Mingi growls, very near his own release.

You cum on his cock, crying out his name as your walls squeeze around him - sending him over the edge. He releases, painting your insides with his hot white ropes. He grasps onto your hips, holding you down against him as his cock pulsates inside you. He breathes heavily, grunting as he gives you every last spurt of his cum. As he finishes, he holds still, his cock resting inside you. He leans over, careful not to pull out just yet - gently he grabs your jaw as he kisses you, his lips hungrily interlocked with yours.

“Wait right here baby,” he says softly as your mouths finally part. You groan as he carefully pulls his cock out of you, immediately missing the sensation. Mingi quickly makes his way to the bathroom; he returns with a small towel, doused in warm water. Gently he cleans you up, cautious as not to overstimulate you. As he finishes he tosses the towel back into the bathroom, scooping you up and pulling you into the bed with him. He tucks the both of you underneath the blankets, taking you in his arms as he nuzzles up against you.

“Are you cold?” he asks, kissing you on the forehead.

“Not with you here.”

“Good.”

You lay there in silence, deep breaths filling the air as you relax into each other's arms.

“Thanks for the present, baby,” you finally say, your voice soft and sleepy.

“You’re welcome, love.”

“You did completely rip it to shreds, though,” you remind him.

Mingi smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. You just looked too good.”

He cradles your cheek in his palm. “I’ll just have to get you another one,” he tells you with a kiss.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you say as you snuggle up into him. “Just give me a few business weeks to recover from this please.”

He laughs, drawing you even closer into him. You begin to drift off to sleep, comfortable and warm in his embrace.

“Mingi?” you say softly.

“Yes, babe?”

“I love you.”

You feel his cheeks turn into a smile.

“I love you too, baby.”

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.#mingi #song mingi #mingi fics #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez fics #ateez smut #atz fics #atz smut #atz mingi #atz imagines #atz x reader #atz hard hours

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 days

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Words: 7,252 (oof, this one got long!) Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: largely unspecified (but Negan does refer to reader as doll and darling which could be considered more feminine terms of endearment) Warnings: language haha, frightening scenarios, references to past violence Summary: Months have now passed since Y/N began taking on Negan as a "project" and the reader suggests an even longer run outside the walls. A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on the Negan Master List. Previous Part here! “It’s been months,” you said. “There hasn’t been a single time that I’ve felt unsafe, and both of you know I never let my guard down.”

Daryl was leaning up against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was serious but largely unreadable. Michonne leaned forward on the table, considering your words.

“We need to think long-term here. Are we just going to keep him locked up forever? Or is there some version of this where he gets out and either integrates as much as possible or—or goes on his way?”

Michonne sighed and shook her head. “I’m not sure any of us have the answer to that yet,” she said.

“I know. I still don’t,” you said. “I’m not sure what the future looks like for him, but I know we have to do more than just letting him out to pick tomatoes every once in a while. So, that’s what I’m doing. And with you two stuck here dealing with the wall and the kids—and the pantry and medical supplies starting to run low, well… let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

Daryl sighed and straightened up. “I ain’t gonna say I like it, but I trust ya and I’ve seen your judgment play out too many times to doubt it. If ya think it’ll be alrigh’, then—well, ‘m good with it. But ya gotta show us exactly where you’ll be and when to expect ya back in case we need to come lookin’.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll mark it all on the map. We should be able to make it out and back in a single long day. Leave early. Get back late.”

“And no weapons for him unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Michonne emphasized.

“Of course,” you agreed.

“Alright,” Michonne nodded. “When will you go?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I’ll get everything ready today.”

“I’ll walk ya out,” Daryl drawled, watching as you grabbed your bag and shouldered it. “Listen—” he started.

You looked over at him and smiled, already knowing you were about to get a worried Daryl Dixon lecture. “Mhm?” you prompted him.

“The hell are ya smirkin’ about?” he growled, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” you laughed. “Go ahead.”

“Well—if somethin’ happens out there… if it comes down to you or him…” he trailed off.

Your brow furrowed deeply now to match his. “It won’t,” you said seriously.

He shifted anxiously. “But if it does…”

“Daryl. It’s not going to,” you insisted.

He relented and nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay. C’mere.” He pulled you into a hug and you smiled as he folded you up against him. “I just want ya to be safe, is all.” “I know. I will,” you agreed.

He nodded, pulling back. “Wish I could go with ya… I’d feel better about it.”

“I know. But it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re shitting me, right?” Negan said, his breakfast still in his hand, not a single bite taken.

You stared at him and then let out a dry laugh. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” you said.

“Well, shit. I mean… a real scavenging trip? That’s what you’re saying?” Negan said. He ran a hand back through his hair and stood, pacing a tight circle in his cell. “Who else is going?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why? Someone specific you want me to invite? Want me to ask your old pal Gabriel? Or wait—Eugene?”

He laughed but looked vaguely shocked. “Well, I’m sorry but I’m just—a little fuckin’ surprised, doll.” You’d eased some on scolding Negan for the pet names over the last few weeks and generally just ignored them now unless it was something really egregious. (You’d nearly hit him for calling you ‘princess’ one day, so he had at least not tried that again.) He seemed to enjoy taking full advantage of you turning a deaf ear to them now. “Just you and me? Out there?” he clarified.

“You and I have already been out there alone how many times, hmm? I don’t see why this should be any different,” you said, digging around in your pack.

“Well, it’s farther. I mean, farther for you to get help if—”

You straightened up and fixed a skeptical gaze on him. “If what? If you suddenly decide to attempt to murder me? Attack me? Steal the car and leave me out there? I’ll still be armed and you won’t. Besides, I’ve been through more shit out there than—”

He laughed again. “I was just gonna say in case any number of bad fuckin’ things happens out there. And we both know that they do.”

“Yeah. You used to be one of those bad things, remember?” you shot back quickly. He sighed at your deflection and you couldn’t help but laughing. “I am having to sell this harder to you than I did to Michonne and Daryl. What is going on? What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried! Although, it would be fuckin’ nice to have something to defend myself with in case of the dead or unexpected assholes…”

“ ‘Unexpected Assholes’?” you repeated. “What is that, your one man play?” you quipped. “Let me guess—you’ll be playing yourself.”

Negan couldn’t resist a hearty laugh at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s good. You’re fuckin’ hilarious as usual, doll.” But he looked serious again the next moment. “Anyway, about me having some way to defend myself…”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” you said lazily. “I’ll let you have, like, a stick if you want,” you smirked. He only stared back at you. “I told you that I’ll protect you! You think I’m just gonna let a walker wander up and bite you?” There was a thick silence for a moment where he just stared back at you.

“I’m not worried about one walker. I’m worried about all the random, rogue shit that can happen out there.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust me! Do you not want to go or what?” you pressed him, perplexed at his reaction.

He paused, drew in a deep breath, and let it out. Then that damn smirk showed back up on his face, sending his hazel eyes sparkling. “Are you asking if I want to go spend some quality time alone with you? Just the two of us? No one to interrupt… Completely at your mercy for whatever you may decide to do with me… or to me…”

You rolled your eyes, catching onto his tone immediately. “That could include killing you,” you cautioned him, eliciting a low laugh from him. You hated that the deep gravel of it gave you goosebumps. You did your best to ignore it.

“I don’t know… I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get away with me where nobody can easily interrupt us,” Negan said. “I mean, shit. No need hide your true intentions from me,” he grinned. “I am absolutely 110% on board with that. Use me all you want, doll,” he grinned, now gripping the bars of his cell door. “God, I’d love to be fuckin’ used by you.”

You crossed your arms and fixed a stern look on him, hoping that your face wasn’t flushing bright red. You cleared your throat. “Sounds more like wishful thinking on your part. It’s a scavenging run, Negan, not a fucking romantic getaway,” you said.

“Are you sure you said that right? I think you meant romantic fucking getaway. Emphasis on the—”

“Negan! Stop! I will cancel this whole thing! Jesus Christ!”

That shit-eating grin was still on his face and he laughed again, thoroughly pleased with himself. “Alright, alright. I’m done. I think…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “Scavenging. Run.” you repeated.

“Yeah, we’ll see, doll. We’ll see. So, where are we going exactly?”

You forged ahead, ignoring his last comments in favor of moving on. “There are some old houses and other structures we’ve only ever done a cursory search of. Probably not going to make a huge score but there’s always something left behind, something hidden. But who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky,” you said.

“Fuck me, I’d love to get lucky…” he laughed again.

“Negan!” you exclaimed again.

“Alright! I’m sorry,” he chuckled.

“So, are you in?” you asked, slightly exasperated.

The two of you were separated by only the iron bars and a small buffer of space, hardly a foot. He was still smiling at you and you hated that the thought that he was handsome flickered through your mind. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought it—but the thought always surprised you, like it came from somewhere outside of yourself, not by your conjuration alone. “Fuck yes, I’m in,” he answered, interrupting your thoughts.

“You promise to listen to everything I say? If I tell you to run, if I tell you to hide—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise,” he said, smiling. “If I don’t, you’ll shoot me in the fuckin’ knee or some shit. Can we skip the pep talk?”

You gave him a stern look but unlocked his cell and tossed him the spare pack you’d brought. You dug into your own bag and handed him some supplies, including some outerwear. He tucked them into his bag and looked up at you expectantly. “Where to, warden?”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the tiniest smirk. “Car is right outside. Let’s get going. The sun is starting to come up and it could be a long day.”

“Great. Can I drive?” he quipped, shouldering his bag. You only shot him a look that made him laugh again, but he saw the slight curve at the corners of your mouth.

The drive to the crumbling ruins of the neighborhood was slow, but uneventful. The sun was up and filtering through the trees overhead as you and Negan climbed out and started toward the buildings. You were quiet, focused, and Negan couldn’t help admiring your efficiency and care as you went about your mission.

The two of you stopped at the edge of the crumbling street, concealed in some taller brush. The street was overgrown with weeds and lined with dilapidated houses. It was almost eerily quiet.

“Alright,” you breathed quietly. “We’ll go building by building, down one side and back up the other. Pay attention to signs of walkers or people,” you said softly, gripping the straps of your pack. “Follow my lead and stay close.”

“You got it,” Negan replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he followed alongside you toward the first house. “I gotta say, it is really uncomfortable being out here without a damn weapon. More so here than in the woods,” he commented, his eyes shifting around to study the other buildings, scrutinizing for a sign of movement. “I feel like I’m naked,” he said.

“I guarantee—” You paused to tap on the wall of the house the two of you were standing beside, listening for anything inside. “You’re not. If you were naked, I would not be this fuckin’ calm, Negan,” you said, half-distracted.

He chuckled and licked his bottom lip, smirking.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t think that sounded how you meant it to sound,” he laughed.

Your cheeks flushed. “Oh, shut up. You know what I meant!”

“Your brain is saying one thing but your lips are sayin’ another, darlin’,” he teased you.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the front door open, stepping cautiously inside. The smell was of mildew and stagnant air as you stepped inside. A heavy layer of dust and dirt coated everything; overturned furniture, books standing or tipped over on shelves, a stately chair still positioned in front of the fireplace. Somewhere deeper in the house, water was dripping. You had your gun out and started clearing the lower floors. Negan ghosted behind you.

You made for the staircase to check the upstairs when there was a soft thump overhead. Your eyes and Negan’s went to the ceiling.

“Alright… maybe someone is home after all,” he commented, giving you a concerned look.

“It’s gotta be a walker,” you said. “Maybe an animal.” You proceeded cautiously toward the staircase.

“Hey,” Negan said softly. “Be careful.”

You turned and looked at him for a long moment before you started up the stairs. He seemed genuinely on edge, worried. He stayed right on your heels as you climbed the steps, the muscle in his jaw tensed as his teeth clenched together.

You cleared two bedrooms and finally came to a closed door at the end of the hall. As the floor creaked under your boots, there was the sound of more movement behind the door. You reached for the door knob, gun ready in your other hand. You took a deep breath and quickly turned it shoving the door open and aiming the muzzle of your pistol inside.

An opossum let out an angry hiss and then scrambled up and out of a broken window. It had been rooting around in some debris on the floor. A huge sigh of relief escaped you and Negan watched your shoulders sag. You laughed a little as you turned to look back at Negan. He gave you a relieved look.

“I gotta be honest,” he said. “I fuckin’ hate this shit. I feel completely helpless without something to use if something bad happens. What am I supposed to do if you need help?”

You gave him a somewhat sympathetic look, thinking about how it would feel to be in his place—the unknown behind every locked door with no knife, no gun… completely vulnerable and reliant on someone who was essentially his jailor. “Well,” you said. “I have a feeling if something really did go wrong, you’d figure something out.”

He considered your words for a moment. “Yeah. I hope so.” He thought about what he would do. What if they ran into some bad men? Bad people? What would he really do if you were in danger? He didn’t have to think hard to know the answer. Anything. He’d do anything he needed to. The thought seemed to dig deep into the center of his chest and sit there, heavy. “So, now what? House is clear.”

You holstered your gun again. “Now, we search. See if there’s anything left. A lot of people hid things, right after. There’s always something left behind. You take the upstairs. I’ll go through the downstairs.”

Negan nodded his agreement and turned back to the trashed bathroom, the sound of your steps fading away down the staircase. He searched every room, every cabinet, every closet, under beds, under loose floorboards, but came away with nothing of interest except for half a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He headed downstairs where he could hear you rummaging around in the living room. “Hey,” he greeted you, stepping over the threshold. You were standing completely frozen now at the shelves, looking down at something. “Y/N?” he said again. You still didn’t seem to have heard him. He wandered closer. “Find something?”

You startled a little and turned to look at him, a picture frame in your hand. “Oh. No, not really. You?”

“Half a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I stuck it in my pack.” He nodded toward the frame. “What’s that?”

You looked down at it again. “It’s nothing. It’s just this—this family portrait. I wonder if they lived here—” you said thoughtfully. Your voice seemed to drift away a little. “Or what happened to them, you know? Did they make it? Were they ever safe again after the outbreak?”

Negan looked on with a thoughtful expression, his dark brows furrowed over his eyes. He nodded and moved closer to get a better view of the photo behind the cracked glass. He smiled at it, chuckling a little. “Hmm. Mom, Dad, and three kids. A perfect nuclear family,” he said.

“Looks like the 90s,” you laughed. “Check out the clothes.”

“Yeah, they probably went down to JCPenney to take advantage of the fancy photography studio,” Negan remarked. “Dad looks like an accountant, doesn’t he?”

“Mmm, I’m getting more of a bank manager vibe. Mom probably stayed at home when the kids were little and then goes back to work as a teacher once the youngest is in kindergarten,” you replied, now smiling a little too.

Negan ran a hand back through his hair thoughtfully and cocked his head. “You know—I was a teacher,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never really told anyone that since things went to shit. Kind of lessens the mystique,” he laughed dryly.

Your eyes snapped over to his face, one of your eyebrows arching gracefully with the question on your face. He laughed again. “Yeah, I know… hard to believe, right? How could such an asshole be a teacher?” he said.

A slight wince flickered across your face for a brief second at his words, as if you didn’t like the way he’d talked about himself. But that couldn’t be right… “What did you teach?”

“I was a high school P.E. teacher,” he said. “Coached some of the school teams too. Basketball. Football.”

“P.E.?” you repeated. “And you’re not even going to make a ‘physical education’ joke?” you teased him. “Wow. Are you feeling okay?”

He laughed lightly. “You beat me to it,” he said. He glanced back at the picture and sighed. “Should we get going? Lots of buildings to search,” he said.

You nodded and stared down at the picture for another moment.

“What’re you doing?” Negan asked, watching you take the back off the picture frame. You fumbled with the backing and then removed the family photo from the damaged frame.

“I just—feel like someone should remember them, you know?”

Negan’s gaze was fixed on you, flickering over your face. There was something so soft in it at that moment that you felt slightly unbalanced. You distracted yourself by bending to slip the photo into your pack. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said gently.

You deflected, laughing as you shouldered your pack again. “Oh, you’ve got no idea,” you said sarcastically, again ignoring the heat in your face. “Come on.”

The two of you went on, searching each home and several stores, working your way down the block and partway up the next. You’d managed some good finds, including a hidden cellar that clearly had belonged to a survivalist type (who had apparently “opted out” and his corpse still watched over the hidden entrance). You’d have to make a few trips to the car in order to get all the supplies and gear back, or otherwise figure out a way to get the car in through the overgrown side road. The two of you piled the finds in a safe place in one of the rooms on the main floor, stacking Rubbermaid tubs full of helpful items in neat piles.

“Fuck me,” Negan sighed, setting the last one on top. “Well, when you’re right, you’re fuckin’ right, doll. There’s always somethin’ left behind.”

You wiped at the sweat near your hairline. “Yeah,” you sighed. “Not bad.” You had a satisfied smile on your face. It felt good to do something concrete that would help people back home. You glanced out the window, assessing the light outside. It’d taken quite some time to get things moved up from the cellar and you wondered if you should keep searching the rest of the houses or call it a day. “I think it’s starting to get late,” you said, remarking mainly on the way the light already seemed like it was fading.

“Mmm,” Negan hummed, going to the front bay window and looking out. His eyes had been searching the street all day, vigilant, as if waiting for some psychos to suddenly burst out of one of the houses. But the only signs of inhabitation or squatting you’d found were clearly from long before, now covered in dust and debris or otherwise moldering in damp corners or on top of filthy mattresses. Now, as you were busy drinking from your canteen, Negan’s shifting suddenly stopped. “Hey, doll—I’m no meteorologist, but those clouds look like bad fuckin’ news.” It had been overcast all day, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that this was something else.

You capped your canteen and went to the front door, your brow now furrowed heavily to match his. You pulled the door open and peered at the sky. Ominous didn’t even begin to cover it. There was not a sniff of wind at the moment and the air seemed to hum with electricity. Negan appeared next to you in the doorway, squinting at the low and heavy sky.

“I’m pretty sure when the sky turns fuckin’ green, there’s some bad shit coming,” he said. He glanced over at you.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “Yeah. Yeah, green sky is… tornado weather. Fuck,” you muttered, glancing back at the pile of supplies.

“What do you want to do?” Negan asked.

You sighed, pushing a hand back through your hair. “Even if we head back to the car now, we probably can’t outrun that… the old highway is FUBAR in some places. It’s not like we can drive 60 mph all the way back to Alexandria. And that would mean leaving all these supplies here.” As if on cue, the complete stillness in the air broke as a rushing wind approached like a tidal wave, creaking and cracking in the trees and swirling dust and dried leaves across the open ground until it reached the two of you standing on the porch. Your hair lifted and blew back from your face.

“I’ll ask you again,” Negan said, speaking louder now over the roar of the wind, “what do you want to do?”

You hesitated, glancing from him back to the quickly approaching menacing clouds. The little light left was fading fast. “Fuck,” you muttered again. “I—I think we’re better off weathering it here than in a car out there,” you said.

“I definitely agree with that,” Negan said.

“Once the storm clears, maybe then we can try to get the car in here and load up the supplies and get home. We’ll be delayed a bit longer than expected but—I think it’s the best move. Hopefully, we’re just stuck a couple more hours.”

Negan nodded. “Alright. Where are we holing up? Because this shit is about to kick the fuck off,” he said, surveying the street again.

“Here is as good a place as any,” you said. “There’s a basement and almost all the windows are intact or boarded up. Come on. Let’s get inside.”

Negan followed you in and shut the door on the wind. Your eyes were already on him when he turned around again. He was trying to decode your expression but it was largely unreadable. He unshouldered his pack and set it on the floor, taking a seat on the stairs across from where you were now leaning up against the wall. The ambient light from outside was quickly waning and before long you could hear raindrops start to pound the roof. They increased in size and then seemed to be blowing across the roof in waves of water.

You could hear the huge cottonwood trees creaking and cracking in the wind. You tried to peer out through the boarded slats over the window to see if they were dropping branches but it was too dark. Behind you, Negan pulled out a flashlight from his pack and clicked it on. It had grown extremely dark with the heavy storm clouds gathering and unleashing the torrents of rain. You were still standing right by the window, looking out, when he spoke again.

“Hey, maybe we should move away from the windows, doll,” Negan said, worried. He didn’t like how close you were standing to all that glass, even if it was mostly boarded over. His voice was deep and resonant in the space between you with just the raging background noise outside.

“Yeah. Maybe,” you said. You bent to grab your pack when you suddenly heard a loud thud against the side of the house. You straightened up, your eyes widening. Negan had heard it too, his eyes were narrowed, ears strained, listening. It was difficult to hear anything over the storm.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice breathy. “Some debris blowing against the house?” you asked.

Negan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, standing from his place on the steps and going to the doorway of the room the sound had seemed to come from. The roaring storm seemed to reach new extremes. The wind sounded like a train bearing down on the little dilapidated structure the two of you were sheltering in. Rain and hail lashed the siding and the roof. There was another thud from outside, this time on the window.

“There. Again,” you said, anxiously pacing toward Negan to stare into the room. His flashlight was still on. Another thud, and then another. You squinted, trying to distinguish anything through the boarded windows but it was too dark. Then, a flash of lightning shot the sky outside with blinding white and you couldn’t help the soft gasp that left you at what it illuminated.

“What?” Negan asked urgently.

You couldn’t speak. You just reached for the flashlight. Negan looked down as your hand landed on top of his. He could feel you trembling slightly and for a moment he was so shocked by your touch that he didn’t understand what you were doing. With your gentle grip, you directed the yellow beam of the light slowly to the window. As it came to rest between two of the boards and shone through the glass, Negan registered that there were walkers clawing to get in, rotting faces pressed to the glass, bloody fingertips, snapping teeth. Dozens. “Ho-ly fuck!” he exclaimed, jerking the flashlight off the window and quickly shutting it off. You and Negan stood in the dark for a moment, neither of you moving, now keenly aware of the pounding noise and dull thuds on the exterior of the house, cutting through the wind and rain. Were you imagining it or was the pounding increasing, getting louder? More frequent? Negan could hear your breath beside him in the dark. “Well, that shit was straight out of a fuckin’ horror movie,” he remarked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “Where the fuck did they come from? It sounds like we’re surrounded.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Seems like they rolled in with the storm.”

“Maybe they can feel the barometric pressure changes or something. It’s almost like a migration,” you commented, feeling your heart rate and breathing finally start to slow down after the shock of discovering the herd.

Negan chuckled beside you and you heard him shift. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Eugene?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Okay… so, now we just have the storm of the century and a fucking herd to deal with. Great. Okay… let’s think…”

Negan finally clicked his flashlight on again but kept it pointed at the floor. “This place seems sturdy but maybe we should barricade ourselves better.”

You glanced toward the basement where you’d discovered the hidden cellar. Your eyes next drifted toward the stack of supplies. “Basement is pretty much ready to barricade thanks to that dead survivalist guy, but if they do break in we could be trapped down there for fuck-knows how long.”

“Not sure we have any better options. We don’t want to be upstairs either. We’re sure as shit not going out on the roof in this if they get in and if there is a fucking tornado and we're on the top floor—” Negan broke off.

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding. You dug into your own pack and pulled out a headlamp, quickly turning it on dimly. “Grab some of these. They have food and medical supplies, some other gear and odds and ends,” you said, grabbing one of the many Rubbermaid containers and heading toward the stairs down to the basement.

“Man, I’m so glad we carried all this shit up here,” Negan joked, picking up a stack of two big containers.

“Sorry. Next time I’ll consult my crystal ball,” you quipped, but right then there was the sound of shattering glass and the storm and the growling got slightly louder. One of the windows in the next room had broken. Negan could see hands and fingers reaching in around the boards.

“Let’s go. Downstairs,” he urged you, his voice intense and thick with concern.

You started down, but shot back at him over your shoulder. “Aren’t I the one in charge here?”

“I don’t see you disagreeing with that idea,” Negan said, setting his containers down beside yours. “Stay here. I’ll go grab a couple more boxes,” he said.

“Whoa. Me stay here? What is this? You don’t even have a weapon!” you argued.

He gave you an exasperated look. “Fine. Then by all means, come with me, darlin’!” He turned and rushed back up the stairs and you had to hurry after him, one hand on your knife in its sheath.

“Negan,” you snapped at him in a low voice as you rounded the doorway back onto the main floor. But he wasn’t by the supplies. You glanced around and could see the dim glow of his light in the next room, the one where the walkers had broken a window. Rain and the occasional hailstone were puddling under the window among the shards of glass. “What the fuck?” You nearly collided with each other when he turned around and started back toward the door. “What are you doing?! Put that down!” you growled.

He had an iron fireplace poker in his hand. That’s what he’d been doing in this room, grabbing it from the set of fireplace tools. “Don’t you think this qualifies as kind of a capital “E” emergency?” he argued.

You stared at him, intense, your chest heaving, and to your annoyance, he smiled at you.

“Goddamn. You look fuckin’ hot as shit when you’re pissed off! I mean, you’re always hot but ho-ly shit! I'm scared and suddenly all tingly downtown!”

Your hand went purposefully to your knife again and you stared him down. “I said. Put it. The fuck. Down.”

“Doll, just hear me out—”

“Negan.”

Another crack and the sound of shattering glass behind him and you saw more arms reaching through between the boards of another window. “Okay, we don’t have time for this right now. You can stab me or whatever downstairs,” he said. He breezed past you and grabbed a couple more boxes of supplies. You had no choice but to begrudgingly follow after him.

He turned, straightening up as he heard your boots hitting the bottom steps, and he opened his mouth to say something, but you were already on him before he could get even a syllable out.

You kicked him hard on the inside of one of his thighs and he dropped sideways onto his knee. The poker dropped from his hand and rang out on the cement floor. You kicked it away and it slid into the far wall with a harsh scraping sound. Your knife was unsheathed and pointed at the base of his throat before he knew what was happening. To your amazement, once he recovered from his pained grimaces, he fucking smiled again.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. When I brought you out here, you said you would listen to every fucking thing I told you to do. This is your one single second chance. Next time you fuck up, it’ll be my knife going into your thigh instead of my boot. Got it?”

He gulped, still on one knee at the point of your knife and still, to your annoyance, vaguely smiling. “Oh, I got it,” he responded, his eyebrows lifting.

“Good,” you said, backing off and letting him stand up. “Now, go pick up the fucking poker. I’m gonna lock up the door…”

“Wait‚ what?” Negan laughed, still rubbing at his leg where you’d kicked him. “After all that, you’re letting me have it?”

“Yes,” you said. “This does roughly qualify as an emergency. Or at least, the border of one. But those kinds of decisions? They’re not yours to make, Negan. You’re not the one in charge here.”

He looked both stunned and amused. “That is becoming more and more clear every fuckin’ day,” he said softly, looking at you with some expression you couldn’t completely discern.

You gave him a perplexed look and then headed up the stairs to seal up the door. There were heavy brackets on the back of the reinforced door (thank you, dead survivalist man) and you spotted a thick board leaning up against the railing. Once you’d closed and locked it, you heaved up the heavy wooden slat and dropped it into place in the brackets, adding extra security in case the walkers did get inside and try to push through. As you removed your hand hastily to head back downstairs, a jagged corner on one of the metal brackets sliced into your palm. You jerked it back and stared as a long crimson gash began to leak fat drops of blood onto the steps below you. You pulled in a hiss of breath through your teeth. “Great,” you sighed, cradling it in the other hand and trotting back down. Overhead, you could hear the storm still raging, but as a low hum now.

Negan stood up from his seat on one of the containers of supplies as soon as he saw you. A concerning amount of shockingly red blood was dripping off your hand and onto the floor. “What happened?” he asked, moving closer as you attempted to dig into your pack with your other hand, blood now running down your forearm. “Jesus, let me help you!” He grabbed your pack away and dug around inside until he found a small kit with spare bits of cloth for bandaging, some gauze pads, and a few other assorted odds and ends for first aid. “Wait, I’ve got that alcohol in my pack. We should clean it up first.”

“It’ll be fine,” you argued, pulling off your headlamp and watching as Negan clicked on a lantern he’d found in one of the boxes.

“Would you let me help you with this at least? Can I? Please? I’m asking permission now,” he joked, shooting you a goading expression.

You cocked your head at him and tried to look annoyed, but you conceded, taking a seat on a plastic container across from him.

Negan dug out the alcohol and poured a generous amount out onto your palm. You gritted your teeth together at the burn and winced. “Sorry,” he said, pressing a gauze pad down over it, holding it gently on his own hand now. “But better than an infection, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, feeling strangely on edge with your hand in his.

Negan used some of the long, clean strips of cloth to bandage it up and hold the gauze in place, tying it securely but gently before relinquishing his hold on you. “Should have the doc take a look at that when we get back,” he said. “Pretty deep. Might need some stitches on that one.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” you said, finally sighing as you suddenly realized how tired you were. Now that you felt more secure and safe, a strange thing with Negan sitting a mere foot away from you with no dividing bars between, the adrenaline had run out. Exhaustion was starting to set in. You took stock of the space. Your eyes wandered from the door into the hidden cellar where you’d found most of the supplies, back to the corpse of the survivalist in the far corner, over to the boxes next to Negan.

He was putting the first aid stuff back into your pack when his fingers nudged something and he paused; a thick stack of glossy photos. He pulled them out, curious. On top was the first one, the one in the very first house that the two of you had talked about, but there were more along with it now—many more. He flipped through a couple until you noticed and shifted where you were sitting. His hazel eyes lifted up to your face. “These are all from today?” he asked.

You nodded and tried to clear the sudden lump in your throat.

“You kept them? All of them?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He sighed, shaking his head vaguely, and thumbed through more; families on vacations, some guy holding a big fish, a young couple smiling in front of the Statue of Liberty, babies and kids and dogs and cats, an elderly couple posing in front of a studio background.

Your voice suddenly cut into him. “Did you ever stop to think that every person you put under your bat, they probably had photos like this? Were in photos like this?” you said suddenly. A particularly loud rumble of thunder boomed and rolled, as if on cue. Your eyes, clear and steady and striking even in the low glow of the lantern, felt like they were seeing straight into his core.

He frowned. The lines on his face seemed to become more pronounced, and he almost cringed. “No,” he answered honestly, the gravel in his voice heavy and gritty. “I didn’t think about it at all, most of the time. I think that was a lot of what I was doing. Not thinking. I know that's a shit fuckin' excuse. It's not an excuse... but I didn’t—want to think about the hard stuff.”

You were curious, interested, and felt that same vulnerability he seemed to be giving you more and more rolling off him in waves. “Like what?”

He gave you a sad smile. You could hear the wind whistling above you and the pounding of the rain. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

But now you were the one to back away, ducking your head, avoiding his eyes. Negan saw that there was hurt there, deep hurt. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” you murmured, fiddling with the bandage on your palm. “I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Negan replied, “you don’t owe me a damn thing. But can I tell you somethin’, doll?” He hesitated for a moment. “I—I like you. You kicked the shit out of me and held a knife to my throat about ten minutes ago and I still really like you. Genuinely. As a person, as a badass, as a—”

“Negan—” you interrupted him.

“If I had to be trapped in a basement with a corpse, a tornado and herd outside, I can’t think of another person I’d rather be stuck with,” he said.

“Negan—” you tried again.

“No, listen to me. I’m trying to tell you—”

“You don’t like me, okay? You just feel that way because I’m the only person who really talks to you, who spends time with you, who brings you your meals, and looks after some fraction of your well-being. It’s like—it’s like trauma bonding, okay? That’s all it is.”

“No. It’s not just that. See Gabe was doin’ all that same shit and I still didn’t fuckin’ like him… I mean, not as much as I like you.”

As usual, when what you were feeling was becoming overwhelming, too many thoughts, too many emotions, you deflected with humor. “I’m cuter than Gabriel.”

Negan laughed and this time the sound was warm and almost comforting. “Yeah. No argument there…”

You allowed yourself a half-smile and then sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fuck, I’m tired. What a long fucking day…”

“There are those sleeping bags in one of these boxes I think,” Negan said, starting to pull at the lids.

You laughed. “I can’t sleep,” you said.

“Why not?”

“Besides the insane storm outside and the horde? Uhh… I don’t know, you?” you offered, your tone a little sardonic.

But Negan’s face was perfectly serious. “The storm and the horde—can’t do shit about those companions and I agree that they are crappy house guests, but they’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere soon from what I can hear. That’s not changing whether you’re asleep or awake. As for me—” he tilted his head and gave you an appraising look, “I do not want to hurt you. And I won’t. And I’m not running away with the dickhole party outside so, you may as well catch some shut-eye. I’ll keep watch.”

You considered him for a long moment but finally shook your head. “No. No, I can’t sleep now…”

Negan sighed and rested the fireplace poker across his knees. “Well, then I’d say it’s going to be a long night… Got any ideas about how to pass the time?”

The mischievous sparkle came back into his eyes and you shot him a stern look that was apparently not enough of a deterrent. “Don’t—”

“We still do have those sleeping bags. I can think of some activities for a makeshift bed that don’t involve actual sleep.”

“Negan, there’s literally a corpse in the corner and a horde outside and that’s where your mind goes?”

He laughed. “Can you blame me? I’ve been in jail for, how long now? Five, six years? And trust me, Gabey Baby wasn’t giving me any action.” He paused at the look on your face, laughing again. “Come on, doll. I’m just kidding. Though it would help pass the time, you deserve far better than a sleeping bag on a dirty basement floor.”

“With a dead guy watching,” you added.

“With a dead guy watching,” he repeated, scratching absently at the stubble on his face. “That is pretty fuckin’ metal though,” he smirked.

“Negan, saying that I deserve better than that is really saying nothing. Anyone deserves better than that,” you sighed, standing up and pacing. “So yeah. I’d say it’s going to be a long night.”

#bad medicine #negan smith series #negan smith #negan imagines #negan drabbles #wicked wednesday #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan x y/n #negan fics #the walking dead #negan twd

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dovesdreaming · 1 day

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Deadpools guide to keeping you alive

Summary: You have a habit of reminding everyone to take care of themselves, even though you often forget to do it for yourself. Wade, being Wade, notices, and in his own ridiculous yet sweet way, steps in to help you remember the little things.

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You sat on the couch, curled up with your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media while Wade, in full Deadpool attire, was standing on the coffee table, striking ridiculous superhero poses for no apparent reason. He’d started doing it about ten minutes ago, just because he could. One hand on his hip, the other flexed, he looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and an action figure from the 90s. "Looking good, Wade” you said absently, not even glancing up from your screen. "Have you had any water today?". “Hydration is for the weak!" he declared, though he immediately reached for the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and took a big gulp, mask and all. You weren’t entirely sure how it worked, but you’d stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago. You smiled at his antics and shifted, feeling a little light-headed, but brushed it off. It happened sometimes. Not a big deal. Wade, however, noticed the slight wobble in your movement. He paused mid-pose, tilting his head toward you. "Hey, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out faster than I can regenerate a new spleen”.

You waved him off, though your stomach growled quietly. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet, I guess. No big deal”. Wade’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he jumped off the coffee table with a surprisingly graceful landing. "Uh, what? You guess? You haven’t eaten yet?" He checked the clock on the wall. "It’s 4 PM. That's not 'yet,' that’s 'barely survived on air alone!”. You frowned, genuinely surprised by the time. You’d gotten up early that morning, thrown yourself into work, and totally lost track of everything else. Again. “Oh…” You blinked. “Right. Oops?”.

Wade crossed his arms and gave you a look you knew well, the ‘I’m about to be ridiculous but also right’ look. “Let me get this straight: you’ve reminded me, multiple times, to drink water today-thank you for that, by the way-but you forgot to eat?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, though the light-headedness was starting to catch up to you. “I get distracted, okay? I’ve got a lot going on in my head sometimes”. Wade didn’t argue with that. Instead, he sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his side. “Alright, here's the deal. You’re gonna sit right here, not move a muscle- except to blink, breathe, and keep that heart pumping I guess, and I’m gonna make you some food”.

You started to protest. “Wade, you don’t have to-“ But he was already up, bounding toward the kitchen with surprising energy for a guy who’d been play posing on a coffee table moments before. “I do have to! Because apparently, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached, and I can’t have that, babe. You’d look weird without it”. You chuckled as you watched him dig through the fridge, though there was a part of you that felt a little guilty. This wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten something important. Wade had found you passed out on the couch before because you’d stayed up working for nearly two days straight. And then there was the time you forgot to drink for an entire day while binge watching a new show. Wade had quickly gotten you a glass of whatever was closest whilst gently scolding you.

Still, despite your forgetfulness, you always made sure to look out for your friends. You’d tell Wade, and anyone else, to “drink more water!” or “take breaks!” but when it came to yourself, you… just forgot. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like your brain got too full, and the little things just slipped through the cracks. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Wade was muttering to himself, something about "smoking chimichangas" and “how do normal people make sandwiches without a sword?” But a few minutes later, he returned with a plate in hand, two sandwiches that looked like they’d survived a battle, but were clearly made with love. “Behold!” Wade declared, placing the plate on your lap with a flourish. “A culinary masterpiece. You won’t find this in any Michelin-star restaurant, because they can’t handle the truth”.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Wade. You didn’t have to, really”. “Of course I did” he said, sitting back down beside you, much more gently this time. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you remember to do basic human things, like eating and sleeping and not turning into a raisin from dehydration”. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling instantly better. “It’s good” you said through a mouthful of food. “Of course it is. I’m Deadpool. I don’t make bad sandwiches” he replied, leaning in to nudge you with his elbow. “But seriously, you gotta start taking care of yourself. I mean, I can regenerate my liver if it gives out, but you? You get one shot at this whole ‘being alive’ thing”.

You swallowed and nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “I know, I just… I get so caught up in things, I forget”. Wade looked at you, and even through the mask, you could feel the softness in his gaze. He reached over, pulling you into a side hug. “You know what, babe? That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to do all that boring, vital stuff. You remind me to drink water, I remind you to, you know, live. We balance each other out”.

You rested your head on his shoulder, sandwich still in hand. “Yeah, I guess we do”. “And from now on” Wade said, his voice full of determination, “I’m going to make sure you never forget again. I’ll be your personal reminder system. Forget to eat? I’ll hand-feed you if I have to. Forget to sleep? I’ll tuck you in with my very own beddy-bye song. And forget to shower? Well, I’ll.. okay, I’ll just throw you in the shower with a loofah grenade”.

You laughed, the sound muffled by another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know if I should be scared or touched by that”. “Touched” Wade said, pulling you closer. “Definitely touched. In the heart, not the weird way. Unless you want it to be the weird way. I’m flexible”. You smiled, warmth filling your chest. “Thanks, Wade”. “Don’t mention it, babe” he said softly. Then he looked down at you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, finish that sandwich and then we’re going to bed. Not for the fun stuff, mind you, unless you’re into that, but because you need to sleep. Doctor Deadpool’s orders”. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the yawn that followed. “Fine, but only because Doctor Deadpool said so”. “That’s the spirit!” Wade cheered, and with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you up off the couch and toward the bedroom, all while mumbling something about setting hydration alarms and taping snack bars to the walls as reminders.

And as you curled up in bed that night, Wade snuggled up next to you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Because even when you forgot to take care of yourself, Wade was always there to remind you, whether it was about drinking water, getting enough sleep, or just eating a simple sandwich.

And really, that was all you needed.

Thank you for reading!!

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adoresia · 1 day

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Imagine…

coming to the end of your date with Satoru and you want to film a TikTok video of yourself in memory of the view and also how good you looked. But for extra effect you wanted the wind to blow your hair so it looked like it was flowing in the wind in front of the setting sun, unfortunately there was no wind. So you had to take matters into your own hands…

“Omg toru, I didn't get any good videos wait.” You paused everything you were doing and ran up to the balcony of the restaurant he took you too. The sun hastily setting creating a warm hue in the sky

“We can go take them now look the sun is setting and everything! Might even take some videos of myself ngl.” Gojo exclaimed excitedly, he never wanted to miss out on an opportunity of doing stuff with you, whether it be filming a TikTok, baking, shopping… he liked what you liked.

“Who is we? Boy come help me take this video.”

“Lame, who wouldn’t want to see videos of me I’m literally the strongest.” He argued smugly.

“The only person who would probably like your video is Me, and possibly Megumi out of pity.”

“Your so mean to me I literally brought you on this date” he sulked

“Stop complaining and come blow on my face, there isn’t enough wind.”

“Why the hell am I blowing on your face.”

“Because I did my hair extra good today and I want it to flow in the wind like those beach girls on TikTok.”

Without questioning you again, Gojo positions himself standing a little bit to your side making sure he wasn’t in the frame of the camera. And blew with all his might.

“Why are you blowing so HARD… you are NOT the big bad wolf.”

“IM LITERALLY DOING WHAT YOU ASKED ME TO DO.”

“I ASKED YOU TO BLOW NOT CREATE A SPITTING HURRICANE WITH YOUR MOUTH.”

“Stop screaming at me you’re making me sad.” He cooed playfully

“You play too much. Never mind, let’s just go I give up.” You brushed off, you reconned you could just do it the next time he brought you out on a site-seeing date.

“No, please okay I won’t play around this time. I’ll do it properly.”

You stopped for a second debating if you really wanted to retry since you had already closed the app and put your phone away. However you gave in (very easily probably because of the forced pout Gojo had on his face.

“Omg okay fine stop making that face you’re scaring me.”

And so you go again, this time Gojo blows more gently, the air was more caressing as it blew past your face and through the strands your hair. However he stopped before the video had ended which confused you, causing you to turn slightly ready to be met with a harsh blow. But to your surprise, Gojo had walked into the frame dropping a gentle peck on your soft lips before taking your phone and smiling at the camera.

“Aww how nice, toru. I thought you were gonna start playing around again.”

“You didn’t expect me to kiss you huh? I’m so unpredictable.”

“No you’re just really silly, I already knew you were gonna do something like that.”

“Don’t lie now baby.”

You both watched as the video played on repeat, Gojo staring intently locking onto the features on your face and how the aroma of the sun setting behind you had enhanced your beauty even more. You were so enticing. He thought, he could never keep it to himself. That would be selfish

“You’re so beautiful, can I get a kiss back?”

— I saw this TikTok before going to bed and was like wait this is kinda cute imagine how funny it would be with satoru, so here is my thoughts basically LOL. I’m tired now goodnight this drained me omg.

Video inspiration below!!

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 days

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The Magnificent Seven | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), angst, canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 3382

A/N: SEASON THREEEEEEEEEEEE thank you guys so much for all the support i love you so much i give each of you a little kiss on the face :)))

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean hadn’t called you since you left. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to. However, there was a feeling clawing at you that you wanted him to. You wanted him to beg you to come back and tell you he missed you and loved you, too. Although, seventy-eight hours after leaving the Winchesters, you were unsure that phone call would ever come.

Over the previous three days, you’d scoured every library book on demonology you could get your hands on and prodded every community college professor that could possibly know any information helpful to you in breaking Dean’s deal. However, all you came up with were crossed eyes from staring at books for too long and several aging professors looking at you like you had three heads.

To your surprise, the phone on the center console next to you rang, the light from the small screen on the front of the flip phone illuminating a portion of the dark car. Hopeful, you picked it up.

‘Oh,’ you thought. ‘Just Sam.’

“Hello?” you said into the phone.

“(Y/N), hey, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replied.

“Good to hear yours, too,” you said, a little sadness in your tone. “Is— Is Dean around?”

“Nah. He’s, uh…” Sam trailed off, sighing.

“Polling the electorate?” you questioned, hoping Sam would understand your reference.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed sadly. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sighed, ready to change the subject. “It’s okay. What’s goin’ on? Why’d you call?”

“What, I couldn’t’ve just wanted to talk to you?”

“You would’ve called before if that was the case,” you replied a little flippantly.

“Fine, you got me,” Sam chuckled. “Was wondering if you’d found anything.”

“Besides an unreal level of frustration? No.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

You clicked on your turning signal and sighed. “Honestly, dude? I don’t think we’re gonna find the answer in any book.”

“You’re probably right,” Sam acknowledged. “Doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“I have looked, Sam. And there’s nothing,” you responded, getting a little snippy with him. “I’m sorry. I’m just—” you quickly apologized.

“I get it. Me, too.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam replied quietly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You understood the warning in his tone and knew he somehow figured out your next stop would be summoning every crossroads demon you could possibly find and hunting others down for answers. “Can’t make any promises, Sammy. Love you, bye.”

You snapped the phone shut and huffed. As badly as you wanted to continue your pursuit of these sons of bitches, you knew you’d be getting nowhere on the hour and a half of sleep you’d cumulatively been getting over the past five days.

***

The next morning, only feeling slightly refreshed from the three hours of sleep you’d gotten, you headed out into the early morning sun to find yourself a demon.

The previous evening, you’d found a bizarre story in the newspaper about a man who’d died under mysterious circumstances after picking up a hooker on the day after those demons were released from Hell in your fight with the yellow-eyed demon. There had also been a cicada swarm around the motel the man had died in; a traditional demonic omen.

The coroner’s report indicated the man had been tied to the bed and found without his genitals, blood soaking every inch of the room. They concluded the man had bled to death. What made the case more disturbing and interesting was the fact that there was a deep bruise around his neck in the shape of two small, delicate hands.

Curious, you headed to Lincoln, Nebraska to interview the wife of the man who’d passed.

“Hi, I’m with the FBI—” you flashed your fake badge at the woman as you spoke— “and I just have a few questions for you regarding your husband’s death?”

“I don’t understand,” she said, beginning to tear up. “I already answered these questions for the police.”

“Yes, ma’am, I just have to do a follow-up of my own. A cross-examination of sorts.”

She nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing you into her home. She gestured for you to sit on the couch across from the chair she settled into.

“So, what would you like to know?” she asked.

“What was your husband like?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Why is that important? I mean, I’m not even sure I really knew him. Married to that cheating bastard for fifteen years, and he does this to me.”

“What do you mean by ‘you’re not sure you knew him’?” you pressed.

“I mean,” she sniffed, “I just never would’ve thought he’d cheat on me. With a whore, no less.”

You cringed at the implication of sex workers being “whores” but kept your mouth shut anyway.

“I mean, in all the time we were together, I was the only girl he ever looked at,” she explained. “He never drank, never went out— hell, he felt guilty about watching porn! I just… I can’t understand why he’d do this to me.” Her sobs wracked her body, and she put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grishop. I just have one more question for you.”

She looked back up at you expectantly, still hiccuping from her cries.

“Did he have any enemies? Anyone who may possibly want to hurt him?”

She shook her head. “No. Before… all this… he really was the nicest man I ever knew.”

***

Following leaving the woman’s house, you decided to head out to lunch to gather your thoughts. In the midst of writing them all down in your journal and munching on a fry, a story on the news caught your attention.

“Second Victim of Possible Serial Killer Found,” read the headline at the bottom of the screen.

“Walter Morrisson, age forty-nine, was found dead in a Super 8 motel just off I-6 around eleven A.M. this morning. Authorities were called to the scene when the housekeeper found the body after assuming the man had already checked out."

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. You tuned the rest of the broadcast out as your mind raced; whatever this thing was, it was just getting started.

You left a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover your meal and tip and quickly left the diner. You sped down to the Super 8 to begin investigating.

Upon entering the lobby, you noticed a scraggly young man sitting behind the desk. The room was completely empty aside from him.

“Hi,” you grinned. “My name’s Christine McVie; I’m with the FBI.” You flashed your badge. “You mind letting me have a look at your security tapes?”

He nodded nervously, eyes flickering from your chest and back up to your face. He allowed you behind the desk to examine the security tapes from the previous night, and you clicked over to the camera just outside of the victim’s motel room. A gorgeous blonde woman escorted the man into the room, and she looked at the camera for just a split second. Had you not been paying close attention, you would’ve missed it completely: her eyes were black.

Immediately, you had the man working the front desk make you a copy of the tape and brought it back to your motel room. You then uploaded it to your laptop and began scanning FBI and police databases you’d hacked into to find the woman’s identity. After about thirty minutes, you found a match.

“Jennifer Lane, 28, Missing from Miami, Florida,” the information on your screen read.

‘Holy shit,’ you thought. ‘She went missing the same night I killed Yellow Eyes.’ Looking at the picture of Jennifer linked to the article you found confirmed the fact that this was your mystery demon. You felt awful for that poor girl trapped underneath and had no doubt she was going through a world of pain; a slave to her own mind.

“Housekeeping,” a sultry voice suddenly called from outside your door.

Unsettled, you drew your gun and pressed it to the door and looked through the peephole. You were met with the smiling face of the girl you had just been reading about, and the door abruptly slammed open and threw you back into your room. Two men with black eyes came into the room as well and grabbed under each of your arms before you even had a second to adjust.

You fought them as best you could which quickly proved futile.

“Don’t worry, angel,” the beautiful blonde cooed, “we’re not gonna hurt you.” She grinned wickedly and pulled your bottom lip down with her thumb. “Yet.”

The men holding you laughed as you continued to struggle, frantically flailing your limbs to shake them off.

“What’s the rush?” the demon asked you, roughly grabbing the sides of your face. “Y’know, you give a girl all kinds of nasty ideas.” Her lips ghosted over yours, and you suddenly found yourself unable to resist leaning forward slightly to kiss her. She kissed you deeply and furiously, causing you to stop fighting the two demons holding either side of you. You could feel them pulling your arms behind your back and tying them together, as well as your legs, but you could do nothing to fight off the woman before you.

When you’d been bound, the demons dragged you out to a car and threw you in the trunk of it. Trying not to panic, you tried to keep track of how long they were driving for and how many rights and lefts they’d been taking. However, after the second hour of driving, it was all becoming a bit much to keep track of.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. You tried to prepare for whatever was ahead of you mentally and cried out when a demon roughly grabbed your hair. He hauled you out of the trunk and unceremoniously tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked and fought as best as you could, screaming, “Let me go!” You kicked the man’s stomach with all your might. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

“(Y/N)!” you heard an all-too familiar voice yell. Your stomach dropped at the sound of Dean’s voice, unwilling to face him after your confession and having not spoken for a week.

“Let go of me, you fucking asshole!” You wriggled even harder now and were suddenly aware that the man carrying you stopped moving. He roughly tore you off his shoulder and stood you on your shaky legs in front of the steps up to a house. You came face to face with Dean being held back from crossing the line of salt blocking the doorway by Bobby and Sam.

Afraid your voice would fail if you spoke, you said nothing but held Dean’s gaze.

“We come with a peace offering,” the gorgeous blonde who’d kidnapped you purred, dragging her nail harshly down your jawline and breaking the skin along it. You hissed in pain and could see Dean fight against Bobby out of the corner of your eye. “You give him back to us, and we’ll give her to you.”

“Nice try,” Sam replied. “How do we even know that’s (Y/N)? How do we know she’s not possessed?”

“You don’t." The woman gripped your chin. “But trust me, you don’t wanna see what happens if you leave me with her for much longer.”

And then, all hell broke loose. Someone— you were pretty sure you knew who— charged the demons holding you hostage and you heard Bobby yell, “Salt’s broken!” as the demon holding you up dropped you to the floor. About ten demons ran past you into the house, and you were left trying to get out of the binds you were held in. You were growing more and more frustrated by the second until someone came up from behind you.

“Need a little help?” a gorgeous blonde asked, smirking down at you.

“Who the hell are you?” you asked. “Get away from me!”

“Baby, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” The woman pushed you upright into a sitting position and cut through the ropes binding your hands.

Confused and startled, you watched the woman walk up to the house. “You’re welcome,” she remarked over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” you replied, still confused. You shook your head to snap yourself alert and stood. You were completely unsure of what to do now; you desperately wanted to help your friends, but you were scared of facing Dean and had no weapons. Alone outside of a house you didn’t recognize deep in the woods, you decided to hotwire the car the demons brought you there in.

By some miracle, you managed to find the interstate and, eventually, your motel. When you’d showered, changed, and dressed the deep bruises and brush burns on your wrists from the rope the demons had used on you, you wrapped your arms around your stomach and laid on your side in bed.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, though; you were too busy stifling tears while your mind ran wild with possible scenarios that could’ve happened after you abandoned the boys. You felt horribly guilty already.

Your guilt was made even worse when Bobby called you around five in the morning.

“What the hell was that?” he scolded through the phone.

You grimaced. “Bobby—”

“No, (Y/N). You don’t abandon family like that,” he raged.

“I didn’t have any weapons! And since when do I have a family?!”

“Since the day I found you in the woods holding your guts in your goddamn hands!” he roared, and your guilt immediately sank deeper.

“Bobby, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, kid. It’s Sam and Dean I’d worry about,” he replied, voice softening slightly— or, as much as Bobby’s voice could, anyway.

“What? Why?”

“You left again. Without saying goodbye. Or making sure that they were okay. Dean’s pissed; Sam’s just hurt.”

‘Ouch,’ you thought. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna be in the way, and I didn’t have any weapons, and when I saw that girl going to help you, I figured it was better if I just left—”

“So you saw her, too?” Bobby questioned.

“Of course, I saw her. Why wouldn’t I have seen her?” you replied.

“ ‘Cause Sam said she disappeared. And the knife she had killed three demons,” Bobby explained.

“What?! What the hell kind of knife can kill demons?” you exclaimed.

“Ask me yesterday, and I would’ve said there’s no such thing,” he said. “I thought Sam mighta been losin’ his mind, but since you saw her, too...” Bobby trailed off. “Look, I think you should give ‘em a call. Just let ‘em know you’re all right. And apologize.” The last part of Bobby’s statement sounded more like an order.

“I’ll call Sam,” you replied after a moment.

“No, (Y/N), Dean, too. You two need to sort out whatever the hell’s wrong with you,” Bobby asserted.

You went quiet for a moment.

“And call me when you get wherever you’re goin’,” he finished, “so I know you’re okay.”

The line cut out, and you smiled sadly. You felt absolutely horrible for leaving the way that you did, and you knew the right thing to do would be to call Sam and Dean; separately. You knew you had to face up to Dean at some point, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. But, Christ, did you miss him. You wanted him to apologize for not calling, you wanted to apologize for leaving— there were so many things you’d say to him. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone.

You got up from your bed and crossed in front of the blackened television, jumping at the sight of your reflection. It was your guard uniform once more, scrapes up the left side of your arm and face, hair a complete mess, and buttons on your shirt buttoned haphazardly. You tried to steady yourself and take a breath.

You hated trying to deal with this alone. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. You felt you couldn’t control the world around you like you used to feel before the prison case. It felt like things would never be okay, and you were never going to feel at home in yourself again. You didn’t like feeling helpless or like you needed anyone, but you truly needed your friends. Your pride fought your rational mind valiantly, telling you that you shouldn’t call because you can handle this alone. You shouldn’t call because you’ve never needed anyone before; why would you now? And yet, there was another part of you saying that you’ve always needed someone, this was just the first time you actually had someone.

***

The day after leaving Lincoln, Nebraska, you began driving aimlessly again. You almost cried when you turned on the engine and rock music didn’t immediately start blaring from the speakers. The seats of the car felt uncomfortable and made you miss the polished leather of the Impala’s. You loved driving, but it didn’t feel right without Dean and Sam in the front seat ahead of you.

Sam would often joke that he and his brother were your babysitters due to your designated seating positions in the car, and Dean would often say he wished he had “that sliding window thing—” “partition,” “thank you, Sam,” so he didn’t have to hear you chirping from the backseat.

None of the radio stations could rival the comforting background noise that was Dean’s cassette tape collection. You felt cramped without your seat to spread out across. The thing that made you call Sam, though, was the moment you slammed on the brakes and the book Sam read to you about Egypt while you had your concussion flew out of your duffel bag on the seat next to you. Tears swam in your eyes at the sight, and you finally gave in.

“What, (Y/N)?” Sam annoyedly answered the phone.

‘Jesus. Harsh,’ you thought. “I, uh. I just wanted to call and say that I’m sorry,” you began. “For leaving. Both times. And… just wanted to tell you that I hope you’re okay.”

You could practically hear the aggravation leaving Sam’s body as you spoke. One of your favorite things about your friend was how forgiving of a person he was.

“I appreciate that,” Sam replied. He paused for a minute. “Why’d you do it, man?”

“I didn’t have any weapons. I saw the blonde chick go in to help you after she cut me loose, so I figured, I’d be doing more harm than good by staying—”

“No. The first time,” Sam cut you off.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you knew this whole time.”

“(Y/N), since when does Dean tell me anything. I mean, it literally took me nearly beating it out of him for him to tell me that if the deal’s broken, I die—”

“What?!” you exclaimed, furious. “Since when? Why the fuck would he make that deal?!”

“I said the same thing,” Sam replied calmly.

“He’s so fucking selfish!”

“I completely agree.”

“He doesn’t get to be mad at me for leaving when I literally told him I love him, and he’s gonna fucking leave me in a year because of some stupid demon deal!” you continued to yell, not realizing what you’d admitted to Sam.

He was taken aback. “Whoa, you what?”

You suddenly processed what you’d said. “Yeah. I did.”

“Jesus,” Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N/N).”

“It’s fine,” you replied, suddenly feeling like you were too vulnerable. “I’m just pissed.”

The younger brother paused for a moment. “Will you at least talk to him? Try to work things out?”

“Not a chance in hell,” you scoffed. “I don’t want things to work out. I don’t wanna watch him die in a year, Sammy.” Your voice quivered.

He paused again. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to either if I were you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Will you at least call every once in a while?”

Your chest ached at the realization that you may not be hunting with the brothers again for quite some time. “Absolutely.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him sniffle on the other end of the line. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Till next time, Sammy.”

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

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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melon-fodder · 2 days

Text

Love You to Death • T. Hiragi

Warnings: angst, crying, insecurities, light sexual content

Word Count: 1k

Note: a @pixelcafe-network challenge! I was given the song Love You to Death by Type O Negative and did not think I’d make it in time, but then I decided harness my bad brain day into something creative. Some of the lines are taken by/based off of the lyrics. Dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

You struggle with it. Often. Wondering if you’re good enough for him—knowing you’re not.

He’s so strong, so honorable, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders while caring for you. You’re just another stressor, just another stomach ache.

Usually you can keep your doubts to yourself, work through them and rationalize. If Hiragi didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be, right?

But there are some days when he can just tell. It’s the set of your jaw, the sag of your shoulders, the way you take things the wrong way and then punish yourself for it.

You don’t deserve him, and he deserves so much more than you.

That’s what you believe, anyway.

Hiragi on the other hand…

“Stop being so fucking mean to yourself,” he tells you, begs you. “Hate when you get like this. What can I do?”

“It isn’t about what you can do, Toma. It’s about what I can or can’t or should do. It’s—” you hiccup, frantically wiping at falling tears. You hate crying because of shit like this. You’re already such a burden, and now it feels like you’re manipulating him. “It’s all the ways I should be better for you.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he insists, taking hold of your wrists to pry your hands from your eyes. “Look at me.”

You don’t, not until he gently takes hold of your chin. “Baby… if I wasn’t happy, I’d talk to you about it. I promise.”

All you can do is try and fail to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wish you’d do the same. Just talk to me.”

“I am happy with you. You make me happy. And you—you do so fucking much for me. I’m just s-so scared that one day you’re gonna—gonna realize that you’re tired of putting up with my bullshit.”

Your voice is all over the place, wet and warbling, squeaky then silent. You can’t control it, can’t control anything about yourself, it seems.

“I’m not putting up with anything,” Hiragi tries, “I’m not makin’ any sacrifices.”

“I don’t believe you,” you respond quietly. It’s not angry, nor is it argumentative. It’s a statement of fact because— “I don’t understand how you could, like, not get frustrated with me.”

Hiragi chuckles, the hand on your chin has moved to the back of your head to lightly scratch your scalp.

“Oh, I get frustrated with you, make no fuckin’ mistake. Just not for what you think.”

You stay silent, just stare at his handsome face, enjoying the weight of his hand in your hair.

“It’s not your little piles or your forgetfulness or your inability to be on fuckin’ time to anything,” he lists, and you clench your teeth to fight back more tears. “I don’t care about those things. Not anymore, anyway. It’s when you let shit fester and start spiraling and you don’t talk to me.”

You rest your head in his hand and shut your eyes, not surprised when you feel him wipe away the droplets streaming down your cheeks.

“Can’t help it,” your murmur. “Chronic overthinker.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” he says, and when you crack your eyes open again you see him smirking.

Fingers dig into your scalp with a little more force, scratching and making you hum in contentment. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with something a little more serious, a little more desperate: “How ‘bout you let me turn that brain off for a bit. Let me prove I mean what I’m sayin’.”

It’s hard to stay sad when he’s looking at you like that, brown eyes darkening a shade, sharp teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

“What’d you have in mind?”

Hiragi doesn’t answer, just pulls your face to his for a deep kiss. He licks the salt off your lips while wiping your puffy, tear-stained face with his thumbs then carefully pushes against you so that you lay back on the bed you’ve spent the last hour crying in.

“I love you so much,” you feel more than hear, the shape of the words molding to your mouth, wrapping around your heart and squeezing.

A knee between yours, he lightly presses it to your core, letting out a quiet groan when you grind down on it.

“Just tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes, kisses down your neck, tongue tracing the curve of it before he stops to suck a bruise onto your heated skin. “Your wish is my law.”

“I want…” you pause for a shaky inhale then guide his face back up to yours. “I just want you to love me. Forever. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Hiragi’s face softens. He sighs thoughtfully, blinks at you slowly before lowering himself to kiss you with a tenderness that makes you want to cry all over again.

“I do. And you won’t. There’s not a bone in my body that wants to leave you.”

His last kiss lands on your forehead, and then you’re both gazing at one another in a way that would make your friends dry heave.

“Close your eyes now, princess,” he says, voice low and full of desire, “m’gonna love you to death.”

You don’t fight him, don’t try to argue that you’re the one who should be begging him, serving him. No, you let him descend on you, let him do whatever he pleases because he makes you feel so good.

His tongue spells out sweetly sinful words on your most sensitive flesh, his fingers insistent and appreciative as they curl into spaces you only bear to him. He moves slowly and deeply, pouring himself into you in more ways than one—adoration and fondness and promises spilling inside of you in warm, blissful release.

As promised, Hiragi manages to turn your brain off, that network of unfathomable connections rendered absolutely useless as he destroys every doubt and self-loathing habit by way of mind-numbing, toe curling orgasms. You suppose there’s a reason the French refer to them as little deaths.

“Good enough for you?” he asks teasingly when you’re both breathless and dazed. His lips are pretty and kiss-swollen, a slick mess dripping between the two of you.

“Too good,” you reply, a lopsided smile spreading across your face. “Too good to me.”

Hiragi raises an eyebrow. “But not too good for you, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “Just perfect for me.”

#hiragi x reader #hiragi toma x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader

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thelazyhermits · 2 days

Text

After reading the first TWST novel and seeing how Yuu/Grim's first meeting with Ace went there, I decided to write a drabble about how that encounter went with my Yuu, which I'll put underneath the cut.

Also, I've gone back and edited An Unlikely Team as well as Grim/Ace's chapters in An Unlikely Friendship, although there was only a minor edit in Grim's chapter as compared to Ace's chapter which got a whole different dialogue added in the final scene thanks to me getting inspired by the novel.

I hope y'all enjoy the new content! 😊💕

He’s definitely up to something.

That was the first thought that crossed your mind upon meeting Ace Trappola, a first-year student who introduced himself after approaching you and Grim while you both were studying the seven statues on Main Street that, for some reason, look exactly like popular Disney villains.

Grim, however, obviously felt differently since, ever since Ace showed up, he’s been amicably chatting with the redhead about the statues, all the while not looking the least bit suspicious of Ace.

Meanwhile, you’ve been working on cleaning the surrounding area, which is the job that had been assigned to both you and that procrastinating monster, because you really don’t want to risk getting in trouble with Crowley for not doing your job since said job is the reason you now have a free place to stay as well as a means to make money for food and everything else you'll need to survive in this strange, foreign world you've somehow found yourself in.

Plus, you had wanted to put some space between you and Ace since you don’t trust him and that fake smile of his, especially since he’s wearing the kind of fake smile that looks so genuine that only someone like you who’s grown up surrounded by adults, who use their professional fake smiles to take advantage of others for a living, would be able to see through his façade.

The whole time you’ve been cleaning, you’ve been surreptitiously scrutinizing Ace, trying to figure out what his hidden agenda is, all while simultaneously listening carefully to all the information he provides about the statues - information that matches well with what you know about the Disney villains they resemble.

Except for the fact that everything Ace says makes these villains sound like actual decent people who are worth revering rather than the scoundrels they were in the movies from your world.

Every time you hear Ace compliment the people the statues are based on, you have to fight the urge to scoff since so much of what he says is just so difficult for you to believe.

I can’t believe these villains’ stories got so twisted that they became people who are seriously revered in this world. You incredulously shake your head. Even worse, the Queen of Hearts’ story is pretty much the same as it was in Alice in Wonderland, meaning these people seriously didn’t mind a crazy queen who decapitates people as a regular form of punishment.

Just what kind of world have you found yourself in?

You wearily massage your temple. Hopefully, all that nonsense is just a part of this world’s history and not its present. Otherwise, I’ll need to steer clear of the part of the world where the Queen of Hearts reigned for the sake of my own well-being, although I can’t see myself leaving this school anytime soon, considering traveling requires money among many other things.

Obviously, I’ll need to do some more research on this subject. You muse. If I’m gonna survive in this crazy world, I need to learn as much about it as I can since knowledge is power.

Plus, you’re genuinely curious about this world’s “Great Seven” and want to see if there are any more commonalities between them and the movie villains from your world whom they so greatly resemble.

“Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel.”

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when Ace’s previously friendly and cheerful voice suddenly becomes noticeably cold and malicious.

While Grim makes a surprised sound, you quickly focus your now narrowed gaze on the redhead. So he’s finally making his move. It’s about time. Now, I’ll finally find out what his deal is since I couldn’t get any clues from his earlier behavior when I was watching him.

“Pfft! Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore!” Ace declares as he starts laughing, hard enough that he doubles over. “It’s too funny! I can’t breathe!”

For several seconds, his loud, wild laughter fills the air, and during this time, you give Ace an unimpressed look while Grim just stares at him with wide eyes, appearing stunned.

Once he eventually manages to compose himself, Ace wipes away the tears of mirth from his eyes. “Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into a fiasco, right?”

“You two seriously stand out.” Ace sneers as he points at you. “A total normie, the perfect punchline to a disappointing joke. Every eye in the school focused on you last night, and you can’t even use a drop of magic.”

Completely unfazed by his mocking words, you maintain your unimpressed expression, which you can tell bothers him because his face briefly appears annoyed when you don’t give him the kind of reaction that you know he was hoping for.

Since he clearly won’t have any fun with you as his target, Ace quickly moves onto his next one and points at Grim. “And a monster who wasn’t even summoned by the Dark Mirror in the first place but crashed orientation anyway and got beaten to a pulp by my dorm leader.”

Wearing a cold smile, Ace gives both you and Grim a once-over before saying, “You’re perfect for each other.”

“W-What are ya-” Grim briefly stammers before scowling, “Ya don't gotta be a jerk! Comin' at us all of a sudden like this!”

“It’s not all of a sudden, dude.” Ace smirks, “The look on your face when they picked you up and tossed you out was hilarious! It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!”

After giving you and the cleaning equipment that’s beside you a particularly withering look, Ace snickers, “So, in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now, you're janitors? SO lame!”

Upon realizing that Ace seriously is only here to taunt you and Grim, the tension in your frame eases as you roll your eyes. Really? That’s it? I was worried he might be someone secretly dangerous since his fake smile is so convincing, like the ones I always saw back in my world, but he’s really just an immature brat. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed.

In direct contrast to you, who has calmed down now that you’ve realized Ace is no threat to you, Grim becomes increasingly more irritated. “Shaddup, you! I’m gonna be a student at this school in no time!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” Ace shakes his head. “You're so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not a one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten?”

Unable to help yourself, you dryly retort, “Really? YOU’RE the one who’s saying someone should go back to kindergarten - the grade that so obviously suits you way better?”

Caught off guard since you’ve been silent pretty much the whole time he’s been here, Ace, along with Grim, turns to look at you in surprise.

Soon after, Ace’s surprise turns into annoyance. “And what’s THAT supposed to mean?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? Even though you could’ve been doing way more productive things with your time, you instead went out of your way to come taunt us ‘cause you hated how much attention we got thanks to the orientation fiasco, like an immature, jealous brat.”

“Not only that, you’re getting in our way when we have work to do.” You huff before making a shooing gesture. “So can you just leave already? I have way more important things to do than listen to someone whose opinions I don’t give a damn about.”

Once he overcomes his surprise, Grim starts guffawing, “Way to tell him, Henchman! That’ll teach that jealous brat not to mess with the Great Grim! Myahaha!”

“I am NOT jealous!” Ace scowls, “Why the hell would I be jealous of losers like you two who are only still around ‘cause you got lucky enough to get a job cleaning up all of the WAY more important people’s trash?!”

After saying that, Ace angrily stomps over to where you’re standing and jabs a finger at your chest, glaring all the while. “You have a lotta nerve looking down on me when I actually earned my place here fair and square after working my ass off, unlike you who just waltzed right in and did whatever you pleased. A magicless loser like you has no place at this school, so get off your damn high horse already before you get knocked off.”

Completely unfazed by his anger since you’ve gone up against far scarier people in Japan’s underworld, you boredly swat away his finger. “I’m not looking down on you.”

Faster than he can react, you reach out and grab onto Ace’s shoulder with a tight enough grip that makes him cry out in pain.

Using your grip on his shoulder, you push down with enough strength to force the redhead, whom you quickly realize has no real fighting experience, to his knees.

In hopes that he will refrain from bothering you and Grim in the future if you give him a scary enough warning, you fiercely glare down at the shocked boy who’s now kneeling before you. “NOW, I am, and if you don’t want to end up in way worse shape, I highly recommend that you leave me and Grim alone and just focus on your studies like a good little student.”

As expected, upon being on the receiving end of your heated glare, Ace flinches and becomes noticeably paler.

Unfortunately, it would seem Ace Trappola is not as smart as you had originally thought he was since, rather than follow his instincts, which have surely identified you as an opponent he has no hope of ever beating by this point, Ace, whose fear quickly turns into ire, instead immediately shoots back up to his feet and tries to grab you by the collar of your hoodie. “You arrogant bastard! Don’t you dare make fun of me!”

Naturally, you smoothly avoid his hands since he’s nowhere near fast enough to grab hold of an experienced fighter like you.

“Alright, Henchman, you’ve done your part! Now, it’s time for your amazing boss to take over! Myaaaaah!”

Catching you and Ace off guard, Grim, who had been laughing on the sidelines up until this point, decides to get in on the action and proceeds to use his fire magic on Ace who just barely manages to avoid Grim’s fireball attack.

“Whoa!” Ace exclaims before turning to scowl at Grim. “What are you doing?!”

Grim smirks, “Now that my henchman’s had a turn, it’s time for me to dole out some payback ‘cause no one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire, and gets away with it! I'll make ya regret messin’ with me!”

Ace scoffs, “You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.”

Realizing that the two boys look like they seriously intend to fight, you face-palm. This is not what I was hoping to accomplish when I tried to intimidate Ace. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done anything to him.

Just when you think this situation couldn’t possibly get any more exasperating, several NRC students, who had been on their way to class, start approaching the area where you, Grim, and Ace are, obviously curious about what’s going on between Grim and Ace.

Upon realizing that a fight is about to happen, the crowd of boys starts jeering and cheering, earning themselves an exasperated look from you. Boys…

Deciding it’s better to ignore the crowd for now, you quickly get in between Grim and Ace. “Enough! Grim, you can’t use your magic to fight here! If you cause any property damage, we’ll both get in serious trouble with the Headmage, and I do NOT wanna have to deal with that! And I bet you won’t be happy either when your tuna funds get taken away!”

Much to your annoyance, rather than heed your words, Grim scurries around you, moving fast enough that you can’t catch him. “Relax, Henchman! The only thing gettin’ damaged here is Ace’s ugly mug! Myahaha!”

Right after saying that, Grim launches another fireball at Ace. Unfortunately for the monster, his attack misses its mark just like it did last time, although it’s because of a completely different reason.

Instead of moving to dodge the attack like he did earlier, Ace, after pulling out what looks like a pen with a red gem on it, summons a gust of wind that knocks away Grim’s fireball before it can reach him.

Ace smirks, “Ha! How do you like that?”

As Grim complains about Ace blowing away his fireballs and the redhead taunts him in return, you just blink. Huh, guess magic can control elements here like it can on TV back in my world. Good to know.

Seconds after that thought crosses your mind, realization suddenly dawns on your now pale features. Wait a minute. Fire and wind together? Oh no…

Realizing that this is a recipe for disaster, you shout, “Both of you, stop! If you keep mixing fire and wind magic together, you’ll-!”

Before you can finish that sentence, Grim, who has chosen to completely ignore you, angrily fires off another fireball at Ace, which the redhead once again blows away with his wind magic.

Unfortunately, unlike last time, the fire doesn’t simply get diverted to an area where it can’t harm anyone. This time, it hits a target.

The worst possible target.

Horrified, you watch as Grim’s attack, which became stronger thanks to Ace's wind magic fanning its flames, just as you had feared would happen, lands a direct hit on the Queen of Hearts’ statue, causing the statue to become completely engulfed in flames. Oh, shit. We are so screwed...

And, of course, you were exactly right.

#twisted wonderland #twst #fortune in twisted wonderland #twst x reader #platonic everyone x reader #ace trappola #twst grim #my writing

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joedirtymadre · 2 days

Text

Honeymoon Phase

AIZAWA X READER! (FLUFF!) Hope you enjoy! (Accepting requests!!)

You laid across your couch, reading a new book you grabbed after work. You sighed to yourself, you tried to concentrate on your book, but couldn’t shake off your built up frustration… “Ughh, I’ve reread this page 4 times already and I don’t even know what it’s about!” You groaned as you tossed it onto the side table. You sat up and immediately began bouncing your leg, “It’s been 2 months… 2 whole months… I know the honeymoon stage dies, but this badly?” You sighed as you sat back.

You stared at your wedding photo of you and Shota, “We’ve always been obsessed with each other… but he’s died down drastically… in the span of 2 months. We’ve barely been married for a year and he’s already tired of me? I miss the nights he would…” you felt your cheeks burn as you would think back to those long nights. You stood up and walked over to your bathroom, staring into the mirror. You analyzed your face, body, and hair, “Maybe he thinks I’ve let myself go…” You said to yourself softly.

Suddenly an idea popped into your brain. “I’ll surprise him! Though he hates surprises… but it’ll be fine! Where’s my makeup?” You asked excitedly. Hoping you would finish your plan before he arrives home.

You raced to put on some light makeup, a nice black dress, and fixed your hair. You checked the mirror and nodded, “Now onto the kitchen!” you beamed as you raced over to throw on an apron. You decided to make some curry with rice. After cooking you set up the table and placed two hot plates on the table. You looked over at the clock and rushed over to throw your apron in the laundry room. With a minute to spare you topped off your glasses with some wine and stood excitedly by the door.

Right on time your husband slowly opened the door, “I’m ho-” he stopped himself as he was surprised by your presence. “(Y/N)?” He asked, confused. “Hi honey,” you smiled. “Hey… what’s up with the get up?” He asked as he placed his stuff down. “I-I just wanted to look nice for y-you…” you trailed off. “Ah,” he nodded. “I also made some food,” you smiled excitedly. “Oh no thanks, I had a pretty big lunch at work so I’m not hungry,” he said as he put on his slippers and headed towards the restroom. “O-Oh…” you said softly. “I’m gonna go wash up,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “Kay…” you replied. You slowly walked over to the table and stared at the plates.

You grabbed them and decided to toss the food in the garbage. “I’m not hungry either…” you whispered to yourself as you cleared the table. Once finishing you headed towards your bedroom to undress and remove your makeup. “So much for a surprise…” you sighed as you looked into your bedroom mirror and stared at your pajamas.

You walked back to the living room seeing Shota lounging on the sofa reading a book. You decided to continue yours, you grabbed your book and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Did you put the food into the fridge?” He asked. “No,” you replied. “Did you eat it all?” He asked. “I tossed it,” You responded, not once looking up from your book. “Huh? Why would you do that?” He asked. “You didn’t want it, I didn’t want it. Why wouldn’t I toss it?” You asked. “I would’ve taken it to work,” he replied. You glanced over to him, and noticed the perplexed look on his face. “I wanted to surprise you with a meal, you didn’t want the meal. So I got rid of it, I didn’t want to see it later and think of how you paid no mind to my efforts,” you said coldly. “Efforts? You’re not making any sense (Y/N),” Shota said as he inched closer.

“What am I saying that’s making it so hard for you to understand? For the past 2 months I’ve received nothing from you, you’ve changed… You used to bring flowers, desserts, tell me I’m pretty, small things like that. But recently everything stopped, I thought I was the problem… Maybe I let myself get too comfortable or let myself go… so I wanted to surprise you, I got dolled up and made a nice meal for us to sit and catch up. But-... It’s fine, it doesn’t matter…” you explained. “(Y/N)...” you heard him trail off, you felt him move closer to you. But making sure you glue your eyes to your book. “(Y/N) please look at me,” he pleaded. “For?” You asked. “(Y/N), please,” he said softly. You knew he was sitting right next to you, you moved your eyes slightly towards him. “Yes?” You asked softly, hoping your voice doesn’t crack.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been so busy with work and the students that I didn’t notice you felt this way,” he said as he cupped your face. “I said it’s fine… Everyone says the honeymoon stage doesn’t last forever. Of course you’d eventually get tired of me,” you said softly as you stared into his eyes. “I would never get tired of you. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care about you. You know I’m obsessed with you, I love you,” he said softly as he inched towards you. You placed your finger over his lips, “What makes you think I’ll give you a kiss? 2 months with no kissing, hugging, spooning, or…” you felt your ears burn red as you avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I want to make it up to you,” he smiled softly as he placed your hand in his and kissed it.

“Hmph,” you turned your face, wanting to hide your blush. “Thank you for dinner, it looked delicious,” he smiled. “It did…” you replied. “And… you looked beautiful, I had to hide away in the restroom or else I would’ve…” he trailed off. “Huh?” You asked as you turned to face him. “Well you always look amazing, but you wore that dress I love. How else would you expect me to act, but normally I always keep my cool around you. I didn’t wanna scare you,” he replied as he cupped your face again. “You noticed? I was afraid you thought it was just any black dress,” you laughed. “Of course I noticed, but I’m sorry I didn’t notice how much I’ve been slacking these past few months. I’ll do better, starting now,” he said as he stood up.

“Right now?” You asked. You watched as he extended a hand out to you, you slowly placed yours in his. He slowly helped you up, but you were soon tossed over his shoulder. “W-Wait! Shota?” You gasped. He then walked towards the kitchen table, “And we’ll be needing this,” he said as he grabbed a wine bottle. “Now let’s go,” he said. “Go?” you asked. “Yeah, you said I haven’t been showing you any attention for the past 2 months. Well I’ll make up for that, right now. Hope you’re ready (Y/N),” He said as he headed towards your bedroom.

You felt your face burning. Feeling nervous for the night ahead, but you can’t lie to yourself, you’re also really excited for what’s about to come.

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zweiginator · 8 hours

Note

I want crazy ex gf to get patrick jealous with a evil little plan like she’s daxtors laboratory

you devising a little plan as soon as you get home that night. deciding all you want is for patrick to want you again. for him to be as miserable and jealous as you are about him. you know how he is. you know girls fawn over him and you know he’s hooked up with girls since your break up a month and a half ago.

making fake social media accounts and following his accounts to keep up with where he’s going. he’s not very active but his friends are and you know they’re together a lot of the time.

so you see he’s out at a local bar and you have to be fast. getting all dolled up and calling the guy you hooked up with a few days after the breakup to numb your feelings.

of course he answers and agrees to pick you up and you know your plan did the trick when his mouth falls open as he sees you in your tiny skirt and tight top. your lips are glossy and you play along with him even though he’s really just a means to an end.

and when you get to the bar you’re hand in hand with him, standing on your tippy toes to give him a peck on the cheek. his hand rests on your lower back and you crank up the flirtiness, rubbing your hand over his leg and leaning into him, laughing way too hard at jokes that don’t merit it.

and you know patrick is there because you hear his friend group’s conversation falter. clearly, he’s seen you, but you don’t look at him. you don’t want to give him the time of day.

so you get tipsy and you eat dinner and then when your date goes to the bathroom there’s a tap on your shoulder. you swivel around on the barstool, your mouth wrapped around the straw of your drink.

“do you need something?” your heart is beating. fuck he smells good and he looks even better. hair freshly washed, aftershave slapped against his neck. green eyes angry; it’s obvious from the red flush on his cheeks. it’s hard not to sound excited.

“are you fucking serious? did you make a fake instagram account to follow me and my fucking friends?”

you feign surprise and ignorance. “what are you talking about? you set your drink down and eat a fry. “i’m on a date, so.”

patrick sits in the seat next to you and scoots close.

“you think you’re gonna make me jealous?”

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re jealous or not. leave me the fuck alone.” you spit at him, turning the chair away. he doesn’t want to cause a scene or look like a creep but he really wants to get through to you.

“already on a fuckin date a month later. and he looks familiar doesn’t he?”

yes, your date does look like patrick. obviously not as tall nor as attractive, but the similarities are there.

“what? he’s just a guy with brown hair.”

and now if patrick wasn’t mad, he is now. he doesn’t know why. he doesn’t care about you or what you’re doing. he doesn’t care that you’re there with another guy and he gets to touch you and you look beautiful and you’re laughing at his jokes and letting him buy you drinks. you’ll probably put out later and he remembers your first date. how you said he needed to wait before having sex with him between heated kisses in the backseat of his car.

“c’mere.” he reaches for your wrist. he doesn’t want to look pushy since you’re in public.

you stare up at him and your lip is almost wobbling upwards in a smile but you try to be cool.

“for what?” you make sure to make your eyes nice and big, staring up at him all naive and dumb. he loves that.

he snakes his hand up your inner thigh and you can’t pretend like you don’t love it. you whimper a bit and his finger brushes against your panties. they’re soaked and you’re wearing his favorite pair, baby pink and lacy with a pretty black bow on the front.

patrick groans as he feels your cunt. so warm and wet and wrapped like a gift for him to open and admire.

“i’ll never talk to you again if you go home with him.” he whispers in your ear and you swallow. he walks away but watches you the whole night.

and he smirks against the lip of his glass as he leaves without you.

#ask #patrick zweig smut

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maxillness · 24 hours

Text

╰┈➤Mafia AU, chap 1 || SP11

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f), fingering, slight sub!checo

Wordcount: 2k

I’m starting this new mafia AU series where there’s a different parring for each chapter. There isn’t gonna be a regular upload, but more when I feel like writing it and I don’t know how many chapters there’s gonna be

Masterlist

If she knew how this day would turn out, she had prepared some more, but in her industry, everything can slip out of plan, and into the soggy sink

That was all she could think about as she stood in the kitchen, looking down into the soggy sink ‘This could be my life in a matter of seconds’

“Y/N, my father would like to speak with you” She turned around at the sound of Lance’s voice. Her boss’ son

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Last time anyone in the house heard the words, they lost a member of their family

“Sure” She sighed as she stepped away from the sink

As she walked up the big stairs, she kept thinking about the soggy sink she just walked away from

Her breathing was heavy as she stood in front of the office door. She tried to calm down before she knocked on the wooden door

She heard a faint confirmation that she could walk in “Lance said you wanted to speak with me” She was visibly nervous, her hands shaking as her steps were uncoordinated

“Yes. Close the door and sit down” She did as told, sitting down in the chair in front of him “Anything to drink?” He asked which she shook her head slightly to

He poured himself a glass of something and put a few ice cubes in it, taking a sip of it. They held eye contact for what felt like hours

She hesitated to speak as she wasn’t given permission to, but the silence was killing her every nerve “What did you want to speak about?”

“I’m stepping down” He sighed, earning him a surprised look from the woman opposite to her “I want you to take over for me”

Her mouth hung slightly open, unable to get words out, she managed anyways “You want… me, to take over for you?” He nodded slightly “Me? Why not Lance? He’s your son after all”

“You’re the best there is, and you’re young, you have a lot of years ahead of you if you get this position, besides, Lance is…” He shrugged “Lance. Let’s keep him as our driver, no?”

“I might not approve of your so called interrogation method, but you’re a good at your job nonetheless, and I want you to take over for me. And I bet, after a short while, you’ll lay down Alonso, getting all his dirty secrets out” He had always spoke softly to her. She was the only he spoke soft to

“Okay” It was the only word she could manage to get out as she nodded slightly, taken aback by his sudden retirement from the industry

“Also because none from Alonso’s side really knows who you are, and if they do, they don’t have a face to associate with the name” He said leaning back in his chair

“Well… My method has always worked, no?” She chuckled, shrugging slightly, to which Lawrence agreed “When?”

“End of the week” He answered “I’m just missing a few boxes to pack”

“End of the week? It’s Wednesday” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest

“You can get the big bedroom?” He suggested “And you get this office”

“It is a nice office… Are you leaving the alcohol behind?” She asked cheekily

“You can keep the good stuff” He answered with a chuckle

Lawrence had some knucklehead hired to help moving furniture. Sergio or some shit, she didn’t really care

He was pretty though

“Can I keep him?” She asked, sitting down on the edge of the porch beside Lawrence

“Checo? Sure” He chuckled, taking a sip of his whisky “You gotta convince him to stay though, he’s an old friend, but you won’t have trouble anyways” He chuckled again

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head slightly with a soft smile “I’ll miss you” She sighed softly

“Don’t go soft. You got a family to protect now” He said, looking into the garden, watching as most of the family was in the pool, having fun

“Besides, if you have to take the Alonso family down, you need to be tough, Y’know” He said “And I can’t really get up from this porch by myself” He added with a chuckle

“Right” She smiled, standing up before helping Lawrence up

“First day tip; a bird told me Alonso is using George Washington University Hospital” He told her “And I’m guessing the rest of the family is too” He said, clicking his tongue twice

“George Washington you say?” She hummed “I’ll check it out… Tomorrow though. I’ll relax today” She chuckled

“Ma’am?” She looked up from where she was lounging in the sun bed, looking up at a sweaty Checo

“Yes?” She asked, biting her bottom lip softly

“Um… I got it all moved around. The bedroom and the office” He stuttered slightly, blushing softly

“Yeah? Let me see. Help me up” She said, giving him her hand so he could help her up “You got some soft hands” She hummed, feeling his hands

“Oh, um… Thanks, I guess” She smiled softly before she walked back into the house and up to the office

“Nice” She nodded slightly as she looked around the office “And the bedroom too?” Checo nodded, following her to the bedroom

She opened the door to the bedroom, seeing all of Lawrence’s stuff gone, and hers there instead “What’d you do to Lawrence’s stuff? He didn’t want it with him” She asked, stepping into the room, looking out of the window

“He wanted me to sell it” He nodded, walking up beside her, his side leaning against the window

“Sell it? Hm” She hummed “You want to stay for dinner?” She asked, her finger trailing down his chest, a cheeky smile on her lips

“Dinner? I- um. Lawrence wouldn’t want that” He stuttered, turning all shades of pink

“Lawrence isn’t here anymore” She smiled “Please, stay. It’s the least I can do for all the trouble, Y’know? Pay you back” She stepped closer to him, pushing him softly against the window, his head turned to the side

“Unless you want me to pay you some other way of course” She leaned further in, her breath panning over his neck

“D-dinner’s fine” He stuttered between heavy breaths

“No fun” She sighed but, gave him a short and soft kiss to his pulse point, earning her a slight whine

She stepped back “Dinner’s in 30 minutes” She sighed before turning around, but Checo had grabbed her hand, pulling her back against him

“I could use a tip though” He said, his lips brushing against hers “Don’t get paid a lot with this job”

She leaned in, kissing him softly, Checo kissed her back immediately, his hand on the back of her head

She tucked at his hair, pulling him away from the kiss “Don’t have time for that. After dinner though” She said, patting his cheek softly before walking away from him

Dinner was quick. Before she knew it, she had Checo pressed up against the bedroom door, mouths against each other messily

She stepped back, pulling Checo with her, pushing him to the ground as she sat on the edge of the bed

He immediately got to removing her pants and her panties, throwing them carelessly away

Checo kissed up her inner thighs, his hands tight on her waist under her shirt which she quickly got rid of

She pulled on his hair, pushing him closer into her, and he luckily got the hint, his tongue immediately working on her clit, his hand tighter on her waist

“Fuck. Just like that” She moaned softly, her head thrown back, her other hand grasping at the sheets beneath her

She started moaning a little louder as he pushed in two of his fingers, immediately starting to curl them upwards

She rolled her hips, moving against his tongue and fingers, her orgasm already nearing

“Fuck, yes. God. You’re good” She moaned, her thighs starting to shake slightly around Checo’s head

Her hand tightened in his hair, pulling slightly at the locks as she came around his fingers and tongue

He rode out her orgasm before he pulled out and away from her, standing up to push her back onto the bed, each of his knees on either side of her, his hands working on his belt

She took his hands into her own, stopping him “Stay. Come be a part of the family” She panted slightly

“What?” He asked confused, his accent slightly thicker than it was before

“Come on. I think you’ll be useful” She shrugged slightly “You’ll get your own bedroom and bathroom” She added

“I-I don’t know” He sighed, looking down at her

“Come on. Stay” She bit her lip slightly, her hands trailing down his torso, landing on his waistband, slowly undoing the button, his breathing hitching

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay” He said once she had finally gotten her hand wrapped around his cock, slowly starting to jerk him off

“Good choice. Come on” She said, scooting back into the middle of the bed, curling her finger to the tell him to come closer

He crawled further into the bed, his body placed in between her legs, his cock lined up with her entrance

She locked her legs around his hips, Checo’s hand on her back, unhooking her bra, throwing it to the floor

Her arms hooked around his neck, his own hands on her upper waist, slowly pushing into her, his face hidden in the crook of her neck

His hips started slow and soft, but quickly became faster and harder

Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, praises falling off of her tongue that made the Mexican whine and whimper

Her words were soon incoherent between her moans as she started feeling Checo twitch inside her, pulling her closer to her second orgasm

“You feel so good” She moaned softly, her mouth just by his ear

“Please. Can I come inside you?” His voice was mumbled against her skin and covered with a whine, but she understood him

“Yes. Yes, you can” She nodded, and not another second went by before he stilled his hips, coming inside her, his thighs shaking slightly

Another second went by before she came around him, her body shaking again, his name falling off her tongue softly

He collapsed softly on top of her, still buried inside her

Her hands caressed his sweaty back, nails ghosting over his tanned skin

“Will this happen again?” He asked softly, grunting as he slowly pulled out of her

“Probably not” She sighed “You can take a shower. I need to do something really quick” She stood up from the bed, getting her panties on and a night gown “You can sleep in here as well” She said before leaving the room

She walked down the hall, knocking on the door she knew was Lewis’. She heard a faint come in before she opened the door

She saw Lewis sitting on his bed with a book, and what looked like to be a sleeping Nico beside him

“Asleep?” She asked in a soft voice towards Nico

“Mhm. I take it he’s staying?” Lewis asked with a cheeky smile

“Yeah. For now. Tomorrow, show him what’s what?” She asked softly, making sure not to wake Nico

“Yeah. Of course” The Brit nodded “He’a not staying, by the way” He said, motioning to Nico

“Oh, I don’t mind. I know what Lawrence was like, but really. He can stay as long as he want and as long as he doesn’t get in the way” She whispered

“Thank you” He said with soft eyes, and a slight smile

“Of course. Anyway, good night” She said, walking out of the room, closing the door behind her

She walked back into the bedroom after her shower, seeing Checo in bed but not asleep

“Tomorrow, Lewis is gonna show you what’s what, and then I’m sending you out with him to get something for me” She said, getting under the sheets

“Lewis?” He asked confused

“The dark handsome one? He was at dinner? British?” “Oh, him. Yeah, sure. No problem” He answered

#smut #formula one #dom!reader #checo perez #Checo Perez smut #Checo Perez x reader #Checo Perez x reader smut #sub!Checo Perez

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