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moonlight-prose · 3 days ago

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smoke and ash

a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!

summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.

A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.

He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.

“Interesting story?”

The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.

“Logan.”

“Bub?”

“What does it taste like?”

At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”

You nodded. “Good or bad or…”

“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”

Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.

This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.

“Taste’s like me don’t it?”

You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”

A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”

The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.

“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”

You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.

He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.

Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”

They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.

The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.

Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.

You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.

A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.

“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”

You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”

Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.

“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.

Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.

“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”

Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.

You were the balm to his weathered soul.

A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing

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imawreck · 2 days ago

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His

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago against your wishes, and you’d been trying to move on. When Bucky sees you flirting with another member of the team, he leaves for the next mission to avoid getting in your way. Unfortunately, the mission goes bad, and Bucky isn’t himself when he comes back. He also has a lot to say…

Author’s Note: I realize that in most of my fics Thor is the other romantic interest/situationship, but you CANT tell me that man wouldn’t flirt up a storm with a beautiful woman any chance he got. Also, this is my first smutty fic so feedback and comments would be much appreciated! This is on the more explicit side, so please read with caution.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), choking kink, Possessive!Winter Soldier, flashbacks, hair pulling, fingering, metal arm kink, dominant!winter soldier, probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 4,850

Breakups are ugly most of the time, and almost always one sided.

You and Bucky had been apart for at least three months. You’d stopped counting, wanting to forget it and focus on anything else. It was easier that way, to ignore the heartbreak and clutter up your life with other things to do.

Unfortunately, you still lived in the same tower on the same floor, right across from one another. He was constantly around, and no mattered how hard you tried, you just couldn’t avoid him.

It was hell.

And it was only hell because Bucky hardly gave you a good reason for the break up. Sure, you had your arguments. Mostly about his past and how much better he thought you deserved, to which you’d list all the reasons he was wrong. In reality, those weren’t really arguments. It was just Bucky having a low point, which you were more than willing to help him work through. Outside of those moments, you had felt that your relationship with Bucky was near perfect.

So when he had come back from a mission and broke up with you, his only reason being ‘I can’t be with you,’ it’d been a slap to the face. Like someone had shoved a knife in your heart and twisted.

The worst part was that he wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk to him afterwards. Every time you were in the same room together alone, he’d find every reason not to speak with you.

So, you’d taken the hint and were now trying to figure out a way to move on.

That was made a little easier when a certain God of Thunder made his interest known to you. Thor was sweet, charming, and a little goofy. Not to mention handsome, with his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He’d made an effort to woo you not long after you’d parted from Bucky, and you’d informed him that the breakup was hard for you and that you couldn’t really do something new right now. Thor had been surprisingly understanding, and even took to just being friends quite well. Granted, he was still flirty, but he knew where you both stood and was always happy to lend an ear when you needed one.

He turned out to be just the friend you needed.

From the outside looking in, none of the others thought it was ‘just friends,’ especially when Thor would openly show his interest in you. Especially to a certain Super Soldier.

Bucky was painfully aware of what was going on between you and Thor even though he desperately tried not to be.

His super hearing picked up on the soft laughter you and the god would share, on the hushed whispers you’d exchange late over a mug of coffee when you thought everyone was asleep. His every fiber was attuned to you, and he couldn’t help but fixate on your presence.

You were like gravity to him, and he always found himself near you when he knew he should be as far as humanly possible. He saw the little looks you shared when Thor would compliment you, noticed your shy smile when the god would enter the room. He could tell that Thor was winning you over slowly but surely.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when he shipped off on the next mission possible.

You worried, your heart still set on loving him, but you tried to pay it little mind. And after a few days, it actually helped. You felt better, found yourself smiling more. You were beginning to move forward.

That was, until the jet was reported missing. Then Bucky was all anyone could talk about in the tower.

Thor tried his best to keep you in the dark about most of what was going on, and it wasn’t hard seeing as you were just a rather good strategist and not a serious Avenger. You were only really included in skimming over preplanned attacks and making sure they hadn’t missed anything critical.

But word still spread, and worry was ever present.

Needless to say, it was very strange when Mr. Stark called you into a private meeting with himself and two other of the elite team.

“Y/N,” He spoke softly in the kind of tone that lets you know that whatever he says next is going to ruin your whole week. “There’s a situation with Barnes.”

You frowned, eyebrows scrunching at him from where you sat at the rather empty end of the long black table. “I’m confused. Bucky and I broke up months ago. Why are you talking to me about it?”

Steve, who you’d befriended while dating his best pal, looked at you with poorly concealed pity from his seat next to Stark. “Because we know he still means a lot to you and that you’re our best hope in this situation.”

That didn’t make you feel better about whatever was going on at all. “What do you mean ‘this situation?’” You eyed them both, before dragging your eyes over to Doctor Banner who hadn’t done much more than stare at you with a concerned expression bordering on panic.

Stark pressed his fingers to his forehead, “Barnes got triggered on his mission and has infiltrated the tower. We have reason to believe he’s after you.”

You gaped at him. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important, at least not as important as one of The Avengers. “Me? Why me?”

“We’ve silently shut the building down and we’re working on evacuating the floors without anyone freaking out.” Tony went on, ignoring your questions, “He doesn’t know that we’re aware he’s here, and we’re trying to keep it that way.” Tony motioned towards a monitor, and the image of Bucky popped up on the screen.

Only he was in your room, and he was dragging his fingers over the picture of the two of you that was perched on the nightstand. They way his fingers smoothed over the glass, the slight pinch in his brows as if calculating instead of recalling. It was like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like he had no connection to the image of himself.

It was a picture he had taken, his arm extended and a smile on his face with your lips pressed to his cheek. You had meant to take it down and stuff it in the box under your bed with all the other memories you had hid from sight, but it was just too painful. You needed something to hold onto.

You watched through the screen as he moved around your room, taking note of certain things and taking careful precautions to ensure that anything he moved was set right back in place. It was eerie to watch a man who was once so comfortable in your space tread with so much hesitance. Like it was the first time he’d been in the space all over again.

“Y/N.” It was Steve’s gentle timbre that brought your attention away from the screen this time. He tried to smile, though it was clearly forced. “We need you to lure him down towards the lower levels. We have to get him to a room where we can better contain him. If he finds out we know he’s back and not… him, then he could snap.”

“You want to use me as bait? For the Winter Soldier?” You stared at them both with wide eyes, panic blooming in your chest. “This is insane!”

Steve sighed, “Y/N… Bucky told me about the incident that happened in the beginning of your relationship.”

Your attention zeroed in on the blonde’s words, your breath hitching.

“He told me what could’ve happened… and what didn’t.”

You walked down the corridor of the Stark tower office floor heading back towards your desk from a late night research meeting with a few of your coworkers. You had decided to stay later than the others so that you could collect and organize the information you needed for the meeting with Mr. Stark the following morning. It was very late, and you were tired, the heels you wore had begun to irritate the soles of your feet hours before.

You clutched the files you collected in your arms, heels clicking on the glossy floors and echoing into the dimly lit corridor. So dim that you didn't see the silhouette of the man standing just feet from you until it was too late.

You only saw a flash of silver before the door beside you was torn open and you were roughly shoved inside. Cleaning supplies clattered onto the floor, spilling liquids over your feet as you cried out. A hand clamped over your mouth, and your head hit the wall with a thunk.

Stormy blue eyes stared at you, cold and unfeeling. Eyes you had seen just days before smiling at you and filled with life.

Your lips moved to say his name against the cool metal of his hand, but his grip on your face was nearly bruising. You could only stare back in fear and attempt to press your body further from him.

He didn't speak, only stared at you and kicked the door to the closet shut.

Fear was a living thing in your stomach, writhing as his eyes snaked down to your red heels and back up again. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. But his eyes remained cold and unrelentingly empty. His flesh hand came up to press a finger threateningly to his lips.

‘Quiet.’

You weren't stupid enough to scream, not with the way he was looking at you, with how close he was. When he removed his hand, you did exactly as he wanted. Silence hung in the small closet, suffocating you. Would he kill you? What did he want? Why hadn't he killed you already?

The cool metal of his palm slipped further down, wrapping around your throat and pressing against your thundering pulse. Your head pounded along with it, and a foggy feeling settled over your mind.

But your lungs still filled with air, and you remained aware. The pressure of his hand was ever present, but it was light enough not to cause real damage... Almost like he didn't want to hurt you.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the movement catching your eyes. His body leaned forward, his nose pressing into your neck and his warm breath hitting your skin. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and that lick of fear heightened again. He was acting so strangely, and the longer it went on the more unsettling it was.

When he pulled away, there was a heat in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A hunger, and… and recognition.

“Hello, Beloved.”

“We know that he didn’t hurt you, and that he displayed… certain feelings towards you.” Steve’s voice brought you out of the memory, dragging you back to the reality at hand.

The one where he wants you to put yourself smack dab in the path of the Winter Soldier.

“You’re serious about this?” You blink up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. Level headed as Steve was, you trusted him with your life. But this? This was terrifying and completely unexpected. Ridiculously dangerous.

“It’s the only nonviolent way we can think of. And we’re almost certain there’s no high risk for you.” Steve tried to give you a reassuring smile, tried to hide the hint of unease that shone in his tense shoulders.

“You’ve all lost your mind.” You laugh, sighing and raising your chin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, so had you.

You stared at the metal doors of the elevator, your heart pounding with each toll of the floors passing. This was probably—no, was— the riskiest thing you’d ever done in your life. You trusted Steve and Mr. Stark, but your brain was trained to find the flaws in plans like this. And so many things could go wrong.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said calmly into your ear, startling you. You’d forgotten they’d given you the earpiece. “I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll guide you through the compound and make sure you stay out of danger.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if they could see you.

“Bucky is leaving your room. We’re going to drop you off in the commons area of your floor. All you have to do is make some noise and then head for the stairwell. Just listen to me, and I’ll get you through this.” Steve sounded so confident in your ear, but it did little to soothe the nerves.

The elevator leveled out, and the doors quietly opened. The large living room opened up before you, unnervingly bright and welcoming despite the danger you knew lurked just down the hall. You stepped out onto the carpet, walking towards the kitchen. Your palms sweat, heart pounding, as you made your way up to the cabinets.

You just had to make some noise. Easy, right?

But your body wouldn’t move.

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice called in your ear again, gently coaxing you from where he watched the cameras. “Make some noise, and then head for the stairs.”

You swallowed, nodding again, and reached with shaky hands towards the cabinet. You grabbed a bowl, and hesitantly set it down on the granite counter. The echoing pok of the ceramic felt too loud in your ears, like a gunshot.

“Good, now move quickly. He’s just down the hall headed your way.”

The words sent a chill down your spine… and something else followed. Something you’d never felt before.

You headed towards the stairs, but your feet felt like lead weights. Like you couldn’t move fast enough even though you knew you were going as fast as you could.

But you could hear the faintest scuff of boots coming behind you and the sound sent your heart into a frenzy.

You raced down the stairs, tripping a few times before righting yourself and continuing your decent down towards the lower levels. Your floor was four levels up from ground level, which meant you had six floors in total to descend before you could get to the containment floor.

Six flights of stairs being chased by The Winter Soldier. A superhuman man who was definitely faster than you, and probably wanted to do something terrible to you. Like a wolf hunting a sheep.

Oh God.

The thought only served to spur the panic rising in you. You kicked up your speed when the door slammed behind you, footsteps pounding after you as the dark silhouette of Bucky Barnes rounded the stairs two flights above.

He took the stairs four at a time, his long legs swallowing up the distance between you. The panic clawed its way up your throat in a strangled cry, and the sound just seemed to quicken his pace.

“I’m not fast enough!” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it quiet in the echoing stairwell so that the soldier behind you would hear.

“You’re almost there, Y/N. Just keep up the pace. Two flights left and—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You watched in shocked horror as Bucky’s figure leapt over the railing and plummeted towards the ground. He dropped several flights before his arm snapped out and wrapped around the railing. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out around you as the railing dipped under the crushing pressure.

He hauled himself back onto the stairs just before you. Those cold eyes found yours, dark hair framing sharp features, painting him into something primal. Something wild.

That feeling pounded through you again, skittering along your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You still couldn’t place it, not with him stepping towards you with a look that promised violence.

You heard Steve’s voice ordering something over the earpiece, but it was distant. It became clearer a moment later. “We’ve got a team heading in. Just… just hang in there.”

You swallowed, but your throat had gone dry in the presence of the assassin before you. His eyes held you in place as his towering form finally stopped a stair below you, leveling with you face to face. So close you could count the stitches in the Kevlar of his suit.

You felt your body shaking, heard your heart thundering in your ears as your chest rose and fell with each short breath you managed to drag into your lungs.

And he watched every move you made.

His head titled to the side exactly like it’d done the first time you’d been trapped with him. His gaze never left you, eyes wandering over your face and heaving chest before that faint look of recognition settled into those hollow eyes.

And then that heat you’d seen before consumed them.

He stepped forward, and you answered with a step back. For each one he took, you pedaled backwards until your body was plastered against the wall. When you tried to flee back up the stairs, his metal hand planted itself against the wall inches from your head.

You were utterly trapped.

Rough Russian left his lips in the softest whisper. The sound was the same as you’d heart him say before, though you didn’t understand it.

Not until now, as the earpiece Steve had given you translated his words as he spoke them.

“Hello again, Beloved.”

Those blue eyes bored into yours, as his other hand came up to brush your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of.

“He’s kept me from you for so long.” Bucky’s body leaned forward, caging you against the wall. His metal hand remained pressed against the wall beside you, and the other dragged across the skin of your neck and shoulder in an almost reverent manner.

Bucky’s— no, this wasn’t Bucky. This was the part of Bucky he kept farthest from you. This was a man known for cruel, unimaginable violence. An assassin known by reputation around the world by both hero and criminal alike and feared by all. This was the Winter Soldier.

Winters lips brushed your jaw, stubble tickling the column of your throat as his voice rumbled against your skin. “Kept you to himself. Never let me touch you. Worried I’d damage you, Beloved. Couldn’t see you needed me.”

His teeth nipped at your skin, and a shiver rolled down your spine in answer. That feeling tugged at your mind again, spurred by his words. But still, you couldn’t place it. Not with your mind consumed by his statements and barely contained yearning.

When his head lifted to find your eyes again, the fingers of his right hand tangled themselves in your hair and pulled hard enough to have your scalp stinging. His next words were guttural and biting, “And then he let you go.”

Winters grip loosened a bit, but his hold on your hair remained. “He pushed you away, and then that god tries to take you from me?” His eyes held you, demanding your utter attention as his head shook slowly, “You don’t belong to him.”

Tugging your lip between your teeth, you clenched your eyes shut. God, you wished Bucky would say that to you. Having Winter here saying these words with Bucky’s voice, Bucky’s face. Touching you with familiar hands…

Heat had begun to pool low in your belly.

The words were spoken in English. “Open your eyes.”

There was no room for objection in his voice, so you did as he said. With his jaw was set in an angry line, and those blue eyes boring into your soul, he leaned in closer. “He thinks that being with you is too dangerous, that you aren’t safe with… with us.”

“What?” Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. It was the first real reason as to why Bucky had broken up with you.

Those silvery blue eyes zeroed on your lips as he spoke again. “He thinks we can’t protect you, that I’ll hurt you. That somehow being further from you keeps you safe from what comes with being what we are.” His metal hand left the wall in favor of brushing over your lower lip and trailing the cool tips of his fingers down to the dip of your breasts and back up to the column of your throat. “I’d never hurt you, not the way he has. Not if you didn’t want it.”

“W-what do you mean?” You just knew he was picking up on how your heart beat harder as his fingers trailed over your skin. Or the way you kept shifting on your feet to stave off the heat thrumming in your veins with an all too familiar want blooming and begging for his hands to explore more.

The faintest hint of a smile graced his face as he gave your hair another gentle tug, then loosened his grip once more. “You like this. I’ve seen how you react with him. How you quietly treasure the marks he leaves on your skin even when he feels nothing but guilt.” That metal hand slipped over your throat again and pressed on your neck exactly as he’d done the first time you’d seen Winter. Your head spun at the pressure, but you could breathe easily under the cool press of his palm as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “I see how badly you wish he’d touch you with this hand,” he squeezed your neck and loosened it quickly, “How badly you want those marks. How badly you need me.”

You had no words. Nothing to say as he wrung out the truth you’d thought was hidden from him— from Bucky.

Bucky was notorious for avoiding any situation that would make him use the metal arm. He would much rather let it hang there, or act as if he didn’t have it at all. That included when the two of you would get intimate. He never dared to bring it anywhere near you no matter how many times you’d reminded him it was fine, that you weren’t afraid of it. He outright refused to allow it to touch your delicate skin, to let such a catalyst for agony so close to something as precious as you.

Winter knew that you’d secretly craved to feel the cold metal in contrast to his warm skin when he held you. He knew that you would always find it more satisfying when Bucky would lose himself and get rough with you when things got heated. How his flesh hand would leave bruises on your thighs or hips to keep you steady as he thrust himself deeper.

Just the thought had you aching, and here was Bucky’s darker half offering you everything you’d ever wanted.

You were losing your fucking mind.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but the words were flimsy and meaningless. He knew the truth, but that didn’t mean you had to say it aloud.

His metal fingers dug into your jaw, his grip near bruising as he tilted your head up to level your eyes with his. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dollface.” His lips were a hairs-width away, his warm breath fanning over your face.

The scent of him was intoxicating, muddling your mind even further with heady leather and metal invading your nose. The hint of that aftershave you’d missed so much since Bucky broke your heart.

Winter was tearing you apart at the seams.

“Please,” you whispered. Please what? You didn’t know. You could hardly think straight. That feeling was so strong, thrumming along with your pulse and the ache for something. Anything.

“Tell me I’m right.” He mumbled against your skin. Soft lips, a vast contrast to his rough demeanor, to the calloused hand that remained tangled in your hair, trailed down your cheek. “Tell me that you want me. Not the pathetic excuse for a god, or him. That you want me.”

His metal hand released your face, drifting over your neck and dragging over the left side of your chest. He circled once, thumbing over your nipple with a knowing look filled with every sinful promise known to man.

And then he went lower and lower…

His fingers caught the waistband of your leggings, the chill of his fingers raised goosebumps across your stomach, only serving to worsen that burning need.

“Doll,” a command and a question wrapped in one word.

All you had to do was admit your darkest most guarded secret. Confess, and he would give you what you wanted most. What Bucky was too afraid to do.

You opened your mouth, the words tumbling out as he gave your hair another tug.

“I want you.”

That smirk grew just a fraction more, his fingers slipping past your waistband and toying with the hem of your panties.

Fuck, did you wish you’d gone commando today.

“Who am I?” He asked, teeth nipping down your neck hard enough to know they’d leave marks. “I want you to say it, Y/N.”

Those fingers slipped further, rolling over your aching clit in a teasing stroke before he pulled them away again.

If he wasn’t a literal assassin, you’d consider strangling him.

“For fucks sake,” you gripped his arm, your voice unfamiliar in your own ears, ragged and broken. “Winter, please.”

He didn’t waste time, deft, cool fingers dipping into your core with confidence. Soothing that aching heat.

Fuck.

His thumb circled slow as he pumped his fingers, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your jaw up to your lips where he paused long enough to catch a glimpse of your face. You knew you looked like an utter mess, but those blue eyes showed nothing but twisted delight. He leaned forward and tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, bitting hard enough to make you groan.

Winter’s answering grunt of approval urged you further towards the edge of oblivion those perfect metal fingers were working you towards.

God you were so close. Each movement, every touch and bruise he left on your skin pushing you closer and closer. Just a bit more, a fraction more and you’d—

His fingers wrenched away, gone in an instant.

Your eyes, closed from the pleasure just moments ago, snapped open just before the doors to the stairway above and below you burst open. Floods of agents filed through the doors, and a gun fired.

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space making you flinch. Winters back pressed you against the wall, a solid shield of muscle keeping you out of harms way.

Then the weight was too heavy. His body crushing you as he slumped toward the floor. You screamed, immediately thinking the worse as your eyes searched his form in a panic.

But you found no blood, thank God.

“He’s fine, Y/N.”

Steve’s hand on your shoulder had you flinching back, head snapping to his suit clad form. “The gun—“

“It’s just a tranq. I promise, Bucky will be fine.” His face was the picture of practiced reassurance.

A horde of agents rushed forward and cuffed Winters hands and dragged his unconscious body out of the stairwell and further towards the confinement room. Steve remained with you, his eyes flicking to your neck a few times and checking you over to make sure no serious damage had been done.

When you’d gotten yourself back to your room away from the prying eyes and the relentless questions, the reality of what had happened slammed into you.

You just let the Winter Soldier finger you in a fucking stairwell.

And you liked it.

Plunging your fingers into your hair, you took a shaky breath. What the fuck were you thinking? Had you lost your damn mind? Bucky broke up with you three months ago! You were done; over, moving on. He could remember this, for Christ sake! How would you explain it?

Panic writhed in your stomach, but so did the faint ache of need that reminded you of what had just happened mere minutes ago.

The feeling of his metal hand on your skin, the feeling of those fingers working you perfectly and the pressure of his bruising grip.

And that feeling that you couldn’t place.

But now you had a word for it.

From the thrum of your heart as he chased you down the stairs, the promise of violence and sinful pleasure in his eyes. The roughness of his actions…

It was the thrill.

You liked the chase. You liked how rough he was. The delicious blend of panic and pleasure.

And he’d been interrupted before you got the release you’d craved. That you needed.

Frustration boiled to the forefront of your mind, a dozen different strategies with it.

He’d made you confess your darkest secret only to leave you high and dry.

And damn him if he wasn’t going to finish what he started.

#winter soldier #drama #👀#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #x reader #angst #smut

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i-love-ptv · 2 days ago

Text

I Just Ride ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

(Prologue?)

Pairing: Knight!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Carrera!Reader

Wc: 719

An: Heyyyy guyssss…..So this was supposed to come out for HALLOWEEN but i got lazy n wrote other things.

I debated on posting this, i was thinking of making a series, but that depends on whether or not y’all want it! so lmk loves!

Feedback is always welcome and encouraged! <3

“This would be monumental for the family, Rafe!” Rafe’s father, Ward, exclaimed.

Rafe remains unsure of how long this conversation has been going on, he fears his horse will have passed on by the time his father decides to make his voice scarce.

Ward Cameron was one of the mightiest knights in all of Kildare Kingdom, if not the.

Everyone knew that he only cared about the family legacy; for the wealth that came from notoriety.

His eldest daughter, Sarah, was arranged to be wed to Prince Topper Thorton. —But it was painfully aware that her eyes lingered elsewhere, they always remained on the Thorton family’s jester, John Routledge.

Ward is even in the process of accommodating his youngest, Louisa, despite her constant protesting. All the young girl wanted was to become a knight, just like her big brother Rafe. But of course this behavior was not allowed in Ward’s book. No, Ward’s daughters need to be nothing but royalty, and the only way was through marriage.

Ward and Rafe’s step-mother Rose had an almost dictatorship-like relationship. Ward’s word goes, no matter what. Nobody even in the family dared to disobey his order.

Hence why, although he isn’t interested in the slightest, Rafe knew he wasn’t going to get out of it.

“Think about this, Rafe! You are already a knight, my son! Now you would just work for one family!” Ward shouted, growing more agitated by the second.

“Unfortunately for you, father, I am not interested,” Rafe maintained with a blank tone.

Ward huffs, raking his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “My word is final, that is it.”

“But-“ Rafe attempts to object.

“That is an order, Rafe! You are to serve the Carrera family, and provide them with the utmost respect,” Ward almost snarls.

He continues, “I wish not to hear another word about the matter, Rafe. Start packing, you will be residing there as well, they’ve offered you one of their spare rooms.”

Rafe stomps to his room, similar to how a young child would.

It’s not like he has a problem with the Carrera family, It’s quite the opposite actually. They treat him with such niceties that would make anyone fawn; since he was a Cameron and all.

The youngest, Kiara, albeit continuously holding a grudge towards Rafe, wasn't his main concern.

You, were his main concern.

You somehow always managed to have that twinkle in your eye, even when falling bored.

You always smiled at him brightly, and he knew that it wasn’t fake like the others’.

You held beauty unlike the rest; Rafe swears there could never be a time where you don’t look divinely ravishing.

He’s thought about writing you a letter, confessing his admiration for you and his want to have your hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, the Cameron boy knew that seeking a relationship with you was futile. After all, was just a mere knight, and you deserved to be married to a man of royalty; since wealth was no issue for Rafe.

Rafe doesn’t know if he’d even be able to handle being in the same vicinity as you, let alone guard you and take up your sacred space.

The thought alone makes his stomach fill with the flutters left behind by butterflies, but he also feels giddy, believe it or not.

He’d be able to see you freshly from your slumber.

….That's rather strange, isn’t it?

It’s not like he was an odd stalker of some sort, he just wanted to be bare witness to the beauty you behold, especially when you rouse from your nightly escapades.

The mere thought of being in your presence makes his heart pound against his chest. The tight feeling makes him reach his arm out and grip his nightstand for stability, as he drops onto his bed.

It’s late now, and despite his urge to just succumb to slumber. Rafe packs his bag, which will reside on his horse tomorrow morning.

Once he’s done, he flops onto his bed, resting under the covers on his back, looking at the ceiling in thought.

‘How would this transpire? Only a god would know,’ he thinks to himself. He thinks about praying, although he doesn’t really have the words in his throat.

Rafe finally rests his head on his pillow, and hopes for the best.

#knight rafe ❊#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx x reader #obx x you

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amphibiahawks321 · 1 day ago

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🌲FOREST🌲

[Rozzum pacing awkwardly in the forest clearing, her claws nervously clutching onto a wild flower bouquet]

[Finx stood beside her, clearly trying to keep her nervous system in tack while wearing a tech ring on his leg]

Finx : Okay Rozzum, remember, humanoid robots like Y/N love and appreciate subtlety don't just walk up to him and roar out all of your feelings!

[Rozzum stares at finx and tilts her head, confused]

Rozzum : Subtlety? is.... is that some kind of voice upgrade?

[Finx gives Rozzum a light hit on her head]

Finx : it's a social upgrade you rust bucket!

........

[RobotY/N using his eyes to scan and visual analyze a dark oak tree while holding a notepad while humming softly]

RobotM!Reader : Hm.... Interesting!

[RobotY/N starts writing down the facts he got from the tree]

[Rozzum walked over to Y/N, a bouquet in her hand with her presence impossible to ignoreBecause she's taller then him–]

[RobotY/N noticed rozzum's presence but still looking down and writing down]

RobotM!Reader : Hello Rozzum! Do you need some assistance on facts about the forest?

Rozzum : No!–i mean... No, I am here to–Uh, ask you if you would like to establish a temporary emotional outing later on...

[RobotY/N stops writing and looks up at her]

RobotM!Reader : Huh?–

[Rozzum quickly shoved the bouquet on her hand into his hands]

Rozzum : Here... Before I grabbed it I analysed these for safety... They also appear to have a very pleasing colour pattern and have an 80% chance of giving positive emotions...

[Fink noise can be heard from rozzum's head]

......

[Meanwhile in a nearby bush, finx staring at RobotY/N and rozzum from inside the bush while talking to the tech ring on his leg]

Finx : Great! Now tell him how fascinating he is!

Rozzum : And Uh... I can't help but be fascinated by your programming today, your visual analysis amazes me how quick it is!

Finx : Aaaaaand compliment him!

Rozzum : your eyes are more advanced than any algorithm i've encountered, it's the way they process light is simply very... Mesmerising...

Finx : Nailed it!

RobotM!Reader : O-Oh my–Uhh... That was very... Lovely to hear... You also got me flowers?

Rozzum : Yes, and I request your presence on a nice outing–with low hostilities with no explosions of course!

[RobotY/N starts getting a bit overheated]

RobotM!Reader : Are you perhaps.... "Asking me out"?–

Rozzum : Yes! is it not clear enough? Should I have added a banner? Perhaps fireworks? Or maybe–

RobotM!Reader : Chuckles... No, no of course not! It's clear enough, But... excuse me for asking but... Why the sudden interest in me?

Rozzum : I wouldn't say "Sudden" I quite enjoy your company for some time now and uhh–for your question is that you're very... Efficient, helpful, nice and not to mention the creatures love you....

[Finx took out a leaf from the bush and wiped his eyes]

Finx : So beautiful...

......

[Suddenly pinktail took the leaf from his hand and used it to wipe her tears]

Pinktail : Sniffs.. tell me about it...

Finx : I know right–.....

[Finx looks beside him to see pinktail, but then he stares around inside the bush to see the others looking at Rozzum and RobotY/N too]

Finx : What the–!? How long have all of you been in here!?

Pigtail : The entire time basically, you are terrible at looking at your surroundings

Finx : Why would you guys enter a bush that I entered in the first place!?

Thorn : We saw you sneakily enter the bush, not to mention you were wearing a weird ring on your leg

RobotM!Reader : So i–Uhh Coughs... Would love to go on an outing with you! Meet me at the nearby duck pond in... Let's see, 20 minutes?

Rozzum : Agreed! I will prepare a destruction protocol in case there's an emergency!

[RobotY/N starts smiling wider and getting a bit more overheating, RobotY/N walks a bit closer to rozzum and stand on his tippy toes and gives Rozzum a kiss on the cheek]

Rozzum : .....

RobotM!Reader : S-see you later! Can't wait!

[RobotY/N leaves in a haste while mumbling to himself]

RobotM!Reader : Why did I do that, Why did I do that why did I do that, why did I do that, Why did I do that, why did I do that, why did I do that–

[Rozzum holds onto the cheek RobotY/N kissed, making her eyes starts flickering lights repeatedly]

#male reader #the wild robot #the wild robot x reader #reader x the wild robot #roz x reader #reader x roz #rozzum x reader #reader x rozzum

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solomonomenon · 1 day ago

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skz's first thought when they see an attractive woman

⚠️ for entertainment purposes only *based on tarot

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣

his mind goes into overdrive. he’s immediately hit with this rush of energy, like he’s ready to compete for her attention, but at the same time, he’s trying to play it cool. you know he’s imagining all the slick moves he could make, but there’s also a part of him that’s like, chill, don’t overthink it, just wait for the perfect moment. he’s caught in this inner tug-of-war between making a move right away and just soaking in the moment while plotting how to stand out.

𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

he’s a mess inside, even if he looks calm on the outside. at first, he’s all smiles, thinking, she’s cute, I could totally vibe with her, but then doubt creeps in. he starts overthinking, maybe even comparing himself to the crowd around her. deep down, there’s this flicker of vulnerability, like he’s thinking, would she even notice me, though? he’d never show it, of course, but inside, it’s a mix of playful interest and a touch of heartbreak before he even says hello.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣

he sees her, and bam—his brain goes wild. he’s immediately struck by her beauty, thinking she’s absolutely got it all. then his confident, intense side kicks in, and he’s analyzing her like, yeah, I know exactly how to charm her. but there’s also this darker, more primal side of him that’s like, she’s trouble, and I love it. he’s the type to admire her from afar while imagining all the bold, thrilling ways he could sweep her off her feet.

𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣

his reaction is like a mix of dreamy and earnest. he spots her and immediately starts picturing some romantic, poetic scenario—like offering her a flower or writing her a song. but there’s also a playful, carefree side of him that’s like, what if I just walked up and said something totally random? he’s imagining all the sweet, heartfelt ways to grab her attention while also entertaining the idea of just being himself—charming, quirky, and maybe a little impulsive.

𝙝𝙖𝙣

he spots her and feels this pull, like wow, she’s something special, but then he’s all, nah, don’t get ahead of yourself. his thoughts start bouncing around—he’s wondering if she’d even notice him, imagining little scenarios where he tries to get her attention, but then he also kind of zones out, like, what’s the point? he’s intrigued but also keeps one foot out the door, just in case she’s too good to be true.

𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

he’s soft but lowkey deep about it. he sees her and instantly starts wondering about who she really is—like, what her story is, what she’s like when no one’s watching. there’s a part of him that feels fated, like maybe I was meant to see her, but instead of rushing in, he holds back, thinking, should I even approach her? he’s more reflective, imagining the what-ifs while staying in his own little dreamy bubble.

𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

his first thought is pure restraint. he sees her, and there’s this intense mental battle where he’s keeping his cool, telling himself, don’t get distracted. but let’s be real, she’s in his head now. he’s analyzing every detail, weighing whether it’s worth approaching her, and maybe even thinking, could she be a challenge? there’s a hint of a competitive edge, too, like he wouldn’t mind winning her over just to prove he could. but mostly, he’s locked in his thoughts, trying not to let her beauty throw him off his game.

𝙟𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣

he sees her and it’s like a spark of excitement lights up inside him. he’s immediately intrigued, admiring her beauty in this sweet yet curious way, while also imagining how she might react if he actually said something. there’s a playful, almost innocent vibe to his thoughts, like he’s thinking, what would she say if I walked up to her? he’s fascinated but also has this grounded side, imagining how he could subtly impress her without coming on too strong.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

#stray kids tarot #skz tarot #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids imagines

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killerplink · 2 days ago

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�� NANAMI SPICY HEADCANONS 🔥

Nanami isn't one to rush. He takes his time, enjoying every little moment, every kiss, and every caress. He knows that going slow drives you wild, and he's got no problem savoring every second. For him, building anticipation is half the fun.

Nanami loves the missionary position, but he's not afraid to make it intense. He'll hook your legs over his shoulders or pin them to the bed, watching your face as he thrusts deep, groaning as he watches his dick disappear into you, wet and coated in your slickness.

His voice drops even lower when things get steamy, and he uses it to his full advantage. He's got a way of speaking, low and close to your ear, that sends shivers down your spine, whether he's whispering something dirty or just murmuring your name in that gravelly tone.

When he goes down on you, he's relentless, dragging his tongue slowly along every inch until you're moaning loudly. He loves the feeling of you trembling beneath him, fingers gripping his hair, as he keeps his face buried between your thighs, groaning as he tastes you.

Nanami isn't loud in bed, but the things he says pack a punch. He'll murmur affirmations, telling you exactly how beautiful you are or how good you feel. His words are simple but direct, making every syllable feel like a promise.

There's something that drives Nanami wild about the slap of his hips against yours. He'll pick up the pace when he hears it, spurred on by every wet, rhythmic sound, eyes fixed on the way your body responds to him, fully lost in the moment.

Nanami finds it incredibly sexy to take you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts in, watching the way you arch your back to meet his movements. He can't get enough of the view, the way your body responds to him, and he'll let out low, deep groans each time he feels you tighten around him.

He's absolutely entranced by the sight of his dick coated in your slickness, and he'll even pull out to watch for a second before thrusting back in. The way your arousal makes everything messy and glistening just spurs him on, a low growl escaping him as he pushes deeper.

Nanami is 100% in the moment with you. He's not distracted, not thinking about anything else—just fully absorbed in you, in your connection. He makes you feel like you're the center of his world, which adds an extra level of intimacy to every touch.

Nanami's got a thing for control, and he loves nothing more than when you beg him to go harder or deeper. The way you're vocal about needing more turns him on like nothing else, and he'll be quick to give you exactly what you want, his pace becoming rougher as he watches you fall apart.

His kisses are gentle at first, but there's a kind of quiet passion behind them. Nanami knows exactly when to deepen a kiss, when to pull you closer, and when to slow it down, leaving you feeling cherished and utterly captivated.

He has a thing for touching your hair. He'll run his fingers through it, brush it away from your face, or grip it lightly in moments of passion. There's something about the connection that he loves, and it makes things feel that much more intimate.

His protectiveness shows in subtle ways, like making sure you're comfortable, checking in with you, and holding you close afterward. He's all about making you feel safe, and that extends to every part of your time together.

Nanami knows just how to tease, and he'll take his time, sliding in slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, watching the way you react. He loves the way you squirm beneath him, practically begging for him to go faster, which he eventually does—right when he knows you can't wait anymore.

There's something incredibly satisfying to Nanami about the mess you two make together. Seeing you a little marked up from his grip or noticing the way his release mixes with your own arousal just leaves him with a satisfied, possessive look on his face.

While he's open to toys if you're interested, he especially loves when it's just him, feeling how ready you are, knowing every slick movement is his doing alone. The warmth and need between you both fuels his desire, and he wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.

He might be gentle by nature, but Nanami is more than happy to get rough if you're in the mood. He'll pin you down, his thrusts unrelenting as he lets you feel his strength. Every moan and gasp you make just drives him on, pushing him to fuck you harder.

There's nothing he loves more than watching you fall apart. Nanami's eyes stay on your face, watching your mouth fall open, your eyes fluttering shut, as he keeps his pace steady, pushing you over the edge. He gets a thrill out of seeing how much pleasure he can give you.

When you're close to release and he feels you clenching around him, it's like nothing else. Nanami practically loses it, his rhythm faltering for a second as he groans out your name, watching the way your body pulls him in and responds to every thrust.

Nanami is quietly obsessed with the little sounds you make. Every sigh, moan, or gasp is like music to him, and he'll do whatever he can to draw them out. If he finds something that makes you moan, he'll repeat it until he's completely memorized what drives you wild.

When he's close to his release, he'll hold you tight, pulling you against him and groaning your name in a low, husky voice that you feel all the way down your spine. He loves letting you know just how much he needs you in that moment, letting go completely as he finds his release.

When he's finished, Nanami doesn't just pull out and leave it at that. Instead, he takes a moment, watching his release slip from you, and with a low, approving hum, he uses his fingers to gently push it back in. There's a dark glint in his eyes as he does it, savoring the way your body responds. It's his way of leaving a little part of himself with you, fully satisfied by the sight of you still filled with him even after he's finished.

There's a part of him that's quietly competitive when it comes to your pleasure. He's always aiming to push you just a little further, to take you right to the edge and then pull you back, building up to an intensity that leaves you breathless. Nanami has an impressive amount of control, and he knows exactly how to use it to make you feel things you didn't even know you could.

Nanami has an insane amount of stamina, but he's also incredibly restrained. He's the type who won't let himself go fully until he's sure you're satisfied, holding back to make sure he's in sync with you. The way he paces himself, taking his time and adjusting to your every need, shows his intense dedication to making sure it's an unforgettable experience each time.

Nanami treasures those quiet mornings when there's no rush, nothing pulling either of you away. In those moments, he'll pull you close, his hands trailing down your body, warm and comforting, as he moves slowly and deliberately. He's in no hurry, wanting you to feel every inch of him with each languid, deep thrust.

Though he's typically controlled, he has no problem letting loose if you're up for it. Nanami's more than capable of keeping up, and if you're both wrapped up in each other, he's more than happy to go another round—or even two—especially if he can keep discovering new ways to make you melt.

After he reaches his peak, he holds you close, almost possessively, loving the feeling of being buried deep inside you as he catches his breath. He'll stay like that for a while, murmuring in your ear, a low growl in his voice as he tells you how perfect you feel around him.

Once things wind down, Nanami is all about making sure you're comfortable and taken care of. He'll hold you close, whispering sweet things or simply pressing soft kisses along your forehead, making sure you feel completely at ease and cherished.

You guys liked the cutesy Nanami ones, so I figured you might like the spicy ones as well 🤭

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami headcanons #headcanons #Spicy #smutty smut smut #minors dni

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cheynovak · 3 days ago

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Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78

@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma

@ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed

@hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24

@spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown

@panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

@livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @roseblue373

@imsiriuslyreal

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #service dog #supernatural sam #supernatural fandom #supernatural dean #supernatural

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defuckingthrone-dot-com · 10 hours ago

Text

Lucky

A/N: BTW I’m still very much stuck here so I decided to write a lil something about it. (Pardon me, I don’t know the terms for what I should call this)

Sorry if this sucks, I did it while I had down time at work. Not proof read. Hope y’all like it.

Warnings; none, pure teeth rotting sweet fluff

*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s had been a pretty good day so far, I was sitting next to Noah on one of the sofas in the creative studio where all of desigin for their merch took place.

All of the guys where gather together having a good time after a good day of work. We were drinking our favorite drinks cracking a joke here and there. If I’m being honest I don’t really bring much to the table when it comes to designing stuff but my favorite thing is to hang out with the boys especially Noah, he was one of my favorite people ever.

“So Y/N, what do you think about the designs so far?” Davis asked, he was head of designs here so I appreciated that he even asked for my opinion.

“I really like them, fans are gonna go crazy over them, so cool that this time around you guys don’t have limited quantities so everyone can really get what they want”, I said

“yeah that’s a plus, I’m really glad we where able to do that this time around” Jolly chimed after he took a sip of his drink.

The conversation went on for a little while about random topics here and there . And somehow we ended up talking about true crime which is one of my most favorite subjects.

“Oh yeah! I recently watched a documentary about serial killers” I took a breath “sometimes I can’t believe what a human being is capable of doing whatever the motive is”

Folio looked at me “I don’t know how you can watch all that stuff and not feel sick, you’re so brave”

I chuckled a bit at the comment “my family is big on horror so I grew up watching docs and horror movies”

“that explains it” Nick said laughing

As I went on to explain something else regarding the topic I noticed that Noah really wasn’t involved in the conversation, he was just humming and looking directly at me. I turned my body so i could fully face him.

“hey big boy, what’s got you thinking and smiling like that?” I said intrigued

“Oh nothing” he chuckled

“Please tell meeeee!” I made my best puppy eyes at him, completely putting on second plain the conversation happening in the background. “Are you even paying attention?” I asked.

“Fine I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to make fun of me” he said looking quizzically at me.

“I can’t promise anything” I said looking around to the others getting up from their seats and making their way around the room, but when I looked back and catched Noah’s brown eyes looking at right at me I couldn’t resist “okay fine I promise I won’t make fun of you”

He stared at me with a wide grin “ Oh I was just thinking about how lucky I am”

“Lucky?” I questioned

“yes lucky, lucky to have you.” Noah mentioned

“silly old me?” I said joking

“Absolutely, I’m gonna be honest I haven’t heard anything you said in the last ten minutes but damn did I realize that I love watching you ramble on about your interests” he says laughing “I love looking at how you express yourself and how pretty that face of yours is” he said grabbing my hand.

“im lucky to spend everyday i can with you, and even know the rest may not realize it; they’re lucky to have you in their life as well, even if it’s just in little moments like these.” Noah said adjusting his position.

I didn’t know what to say; heat rose to my cheeks.

“You’re beautiful and I’m so lucky you’re in my life” he said leaving a small kiss on my temple .

I couldn’t resist just giving him the biggest hug, but what he didn’t know is that I was the lucky one to have him in my life.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #matt dierkes #nick folio #nick ruffilo

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lovingbini · 2 days ago

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beautiful coincidences

seok matthew x female!reader | meet cute | fluff, suggestive, slight making out a/n: i believe y'all know exactly what visual of matthew i'm talking about, right? right? *** you and matthew met at a clothing store when you reached for the same jacket. what happened was what one knows of interest at first sight. eyebrows raised, you waited for him to let go – well, he didn’t.

“alright, give me a reason why i should let you get it,” he said, a smile on his face.

“i can give you two, actually,” you dared. “first of all, i have something this weekend that demands this jacket. second, it will look better on me, respectfully.”

matthew gasped, but the smile never left his beautiful features. he took it as a green light to take a good look on your body, making your eyes slightly pop with such audacity.

“right, i admit you’re gorgeous and have a good styling. but it’s actually my birthday this saturday…” he pouted. “you wouldn’t ruin that by leaving with my favorite jacket, would you?”

you had to laugh.

“that’s funny, ‘cause the something i have this weekend is precisely my birthday party.”

“okay, no need to clown me!”

“i’m not! i’ve been planning this outfit for a while, but just got the money for it yesterday.”

matthew bites his lower lip, contemplating. you have a basket from the store with more clothes, which he acknowledges they match the jacket both of you are still holding.

“maybe we could celebrate together after our parties, what do you think? i could use an apology for making me so so sad.”

you smile once again, unable to resist the charms of the man in front of you.

“yeah, poor sad man, what’s your name again?”

“matthew, yours?”

“i’m y/n. now maybe you should give me your number and i’ll analyze your proposal ‘till saturday, is that alright?”

“perfect for me.” he grins.

***

the bar downtown had lounges on the third floor with a view of the city. you rented one of the spaces to spend the night with your loved ones with no worries. it worked so well that your friends were already planning the next events to be in that same room. the place had a glass wall that allowed you to watch the hallway to be aware of anything that was happening outside.

that’s when you saw him.

matthew was standing on the other side of the building – a cup in his hand, hair slicked back and a jacket that looked exactly like yours. he was talking to what seemed to be his funniest friend; his beautiful smile was out for the world to witness, for you to remember how you didn’t text him at all.

it wasn’t on purpose, really. you just got busy with the preparations and ended up leaving it for later – a later that didn’t come.

sensing he’s being watched, matthew looks around and finds you on the other end. tilting his head to the side, his smile changes. he cheers on you with his almost empty glass, you return the action and sign him to meet you in the hallway.

“well, look who wasn’t lying,” he teases while getting closer. “somehow, i don’t see you wearing that so very demanded jacket…”

you hold a smile.

“it was getting kinda hot in there, but i can put it back if you prefer.”

“oh, no, i wouldn’t tell you to do anything you don’t want to. but i can’t lie and say i don’t enjoy this view even more.” there he goes again, scanning you up and down.

“sorry i didn’t text you, things became pretty hectic the last couple days.”

“nah, it’s fine. guess we can seize the moment right now. keep that communication going with no rush this time.”

and you do. the hours pass while you talk about trivial stuff, making sure to be interested in every aspect of each others lives. matthew’s not only handsome and charismatic, he's also part of the production team from a company you know very well — you were invited to work with them for a promotion but the schedules didn't match after all. what did match, though, was the both of you.

the way you laughed in sync, the way you looked at each other with so much attention and curiosity, the way the slightest touches made you two waver. you wish you would've met sooner, but on the other hand, getting to know each other in a place full of people who cherished you and knew how to have fun— oh, that was perfect.

later, when matthew found a more private space to enjoy your presence, you found yourself pretty comfortable on his lap. his kisses were addicting, his hands pressed your curves in ways you could just imagine. first, he was very attentive of your reactions, second, you were the most obvious woman on earth. nevertheless, it was working, matthew’s smoking hot and eager to show his every move. through the few sane thoughts still roaming in your mind, you couldn’t stop the willingness of taking him back home with you.

“wait, i need to pee,” you say, suddenly.

“like in a kinky way, or something?”

“no, what the hell!”

you burst out laughing and hide your face in his neck. matthew pats you in the back, waiting for a real answer.

“i’m serious. i kind of grinded on you in a way that hurt a bit, so it reminded me i’m here kissing you for a long time now.”

“okay, so go relieve yourself and i’ll be right here, waiting to be grinded on for another long time.”

you kiss him again, biting his lower lip as a punishment, but of course he moaned.

“you’ll be a nightmare to handle, matthew.”

“glad to know we have plans together for the next couple days.”

#seok matthew #seok matthew x reader #seok matthew imagines #seok matthew scenarios #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 x reader #bluewrts #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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lightlycareless · 10 hours ago

Note

I was thinking about your portrayal of Naoya and I was already thinking of a JJK actor au which led me to think of how actor Naoya upon hearing that Y/N was going to be in this new romance movie, I feel like he’d immediately use all his connections(Ofc he could audition but he needs to make this a sure thing plus he’s fs a Nepo Baby XD but at least he’s got the skills too) just so he can be in that movie with Y/N(Maybe the Male lead was gonna be Nanami too!). I bet they’d end up getting together by the end of filming Teehee. You don’t have to write anything if you don’t wanna but I thought you might think this au is fun too if only to just daydream about it :D

Heya anon!!

Thank you for your patience hehe. I have to say, AU’s where Y/N or Naoya are a celebrity is kind of like my guilty pleasure; I don’t really indulge much on it because I don’t have a plot line most of the time, but this was the perfect excuse to see what I can do with it :> I just hope you enjoy it!! Also, this is going to be a two-part oneshot so… yeah hehe.

Btw, thank you all for those who voted for fluff, but we know how this goes so I had to put a little bit of drama somewhere :) it’s Naoya we’re talking about.

Warnings: AU. Naoya and Y/N are actors; he’s an idiot, a nepobaby, womanizer, etc etc, but we already knew all that. What’s interesting is his so called redemption OOF.

Happy reading!

Established actor Naoya that’s quite popular amongst the audience even with the rumors of his difficult work ethic, less than desirable personality, and blatant nepotism, thanks to his good looks and deceiving charm.

Because of his status, whatever project he wants, he gets. Sure, there are some that still have the audacity to require an audition from him, but it’s just a formality that he dejectedly complies to—Naoya knows that even when doing a bad job, he’ll still get the part at the end of the day.

But that doesn’t mean Naoya goes for any kind of role; he’s quite specific about what he wants: a pretty co-star.

And the studios had a variety of reasons to allow such demands, starting from a financial benefit: with a handsome face like his to match with an equally attractive coworker, he’ll only sell-out all functions; and in turn, he’ll get his fair share of enjoyment with his fellow partner of the moment. The same ones he discards immediately after getting bored; careless if they unwittingly got feelings for him—but nonetheless a win-win situation all around.

Such a quick lifestyle has him already setting eyes on his next target, a relatively unknown rising star with a seemingly promising future whom he was immediately smitten by upon seeing her for the first time, just as the rest of the world was.

“Y/N L/N” Naoya would repeat, enjoying how the sound of your name rolled off his tongue—fitting for someone of your beauty: vibrant eyes, rosy cheeks, shiny hair… and to top it all off, a humble yet shy demeanor that just made his obsession for you grow tenfold.

Wouldn't be the first time he’s grown interested in up and coming actresses, because in Naoya’s perspective, they’re much easier to impress, far more gullible to manipulate how he wants…

But it would be the first time he’s ever been so desperately obsessed to be with, for soon after he saw you, you became all he thought about. Causing him issues with his current fling (it briefly grazed the headlines, his team quickly fixed that)and some commitments he almost fumbled, keyword: almost.

Naoya couldn’t explain it; there was just something about you that attracted him, almost like you were destined to be together.

He needed you—one way or the other—and he needed you now.

Per usual, he soon demanded his manager and assistants to get a detailed list of all your upcoming projects, to see which ones he could be part of, and if neither were to his advantage, make those opportunities. Naoya was not to let you go so easily.

”A movie adaptation for some romance series that’s been in the talks for a while now.” His manager highlighted. “It’s her biggest work yet as a protagonist—in fact, development just started because of her.”

”Romance?” Naoya breathed, excited at the implications. “Do they have the male lead yet? I don’t think I need to tell you what I want, do I?”

”Oh, uh, no—you don’t, but… about that—“

”What is it?” It was always frightening to see how easily his behavior oscillated when facing his disapproval, but once already here…

“What?! What do you mean the casting’s already done?! Why wasn't I made aware of this????”

Because as obvious as his womanizing ways were, it would be physically impossible to have him assist every single call in hopes he’d settle with someone attractive enough for his standards.

Besides, this project already had their co-stars in mind way before it was even announced, the studio was just waiting for the right female lead to come along: and when that proved to be you…

Nanami was quickly brought on board, perfect for the role in all ways that mattered: from physical similarities to his character which made the fandom very, very satisfied, to work ethic; his professionalism was always beyond everyone’s expectations, no one has ever complained about him.

Kento was, hands down, a dream to work with—and considering what all of this meant, it was safe to say that Naoya was not happy about it.

”Well, get them to change actors!” He quickly demanded. “Call them and let them know I want the part, should be easy enough considering my status, no?”

”Ah, I— I guess I could but I’ve heard other people tried before and failed… so I don’t want to waste your time if you’re going to face that same result…”

The way how other’s interest in the film is implied behind his words makes Naoya’s eyes widen. Because surely no one cares about participating in that irrelevant series he’s never heard of until now, if it didn’t mean getting to work with you, that is. Everyone’s favorite girl of the moment.

His girl.

Ever the competitive one, it doesn’t take him much longer after that to call who he had to call, bribe who he had to bribe to finally, after many insistences, sign the contract that effectively labels him as your co-star.

Careless if his decision would prove detrimental to the project in the long run, or if it would strain relations between him and Nanami. Naoya never really minded him, outside of being bundled together with some other actors the audience generally cataloged as the most handsome in the country—if this change meant they’d never get to work together, fine! He had obtained a much better reward in return anyways.

Naoya wasn’t to allow anyone to deprive him of what was rightfully his—even if he wasn’t aware of it beforehand—and thus, when the fateful day to start working alongside you finally came along, the moment he’d see you for the first time without the interference of a screen, or through a picture—

His breath ran short. Heart skipping a beat when his eyes fell on your figure: truly, the cameras did you no justice.

You were far more breathtakingly beautiful in person.

So much was his shock, that the smooth introduction he had planned for the moment was limited to a stuttering mess, a shame to someone as charismatic as him.

”You’re—you’re Zen’in—No, I mean, I’m—“ Naoya says, a stranger to the heat forming in his cheeks, inwardly demeaning the weak presentation he must’ve given you now.

But if he wasn't already fixated enough on you, the way you appeared to be indifferent to his nerves completely captivated him. A wide smile on your lips as you greeted him with that same enthusiasm that made the whole world fall to your feet.

”Nice to meet you, Naoya!” You chirp. “I can’t believe we’re working together… I mean, so early in my career! Thank you so much for this opportunity, I promise I won’t disappoint!”

”The pleasure’s all mine.” And so is the curse you’ve seem to have unwittingly placed upon him after sweetly declaring you’d be under his care.

He’s made up his mind, Naoya will make you fall in love with him in less of what it takes to wrap up this movie. He’ll make you his, and will go to any length to ensure so.

Even if it meant ignoring your father’s (your manager, a veteran actor of days past) clear warnings.

”Don’t think I don’t know how your kind works.” Eiichi, your father, threatens Naoya during a short moment of privacy. “And I’m well aware of the rumors that surround you, even if you have your team quiet them. I should’ve known you were up to something the moment you insisted on Nanami’s removal—but I’ll let you know that whatever it is that you have in mind, I won’t allow it.”

”I assure you, Eiichi-san, I have no other intentions with your daughter outside of making our best efforts to have this picture timely done.” Naoya cynically responded, which just made your dad even angrier. Your co-star thinks your manager is an all bark, no bite type of dog. An old dog too, and treats him like such.

“Then surely asking you to act appropriately for once in your life isn’t too much to demand, is it?” He frowns. “Especially for someone who’s barely starting in the genre.”

”Wait—you mean to say—“

If this is your first romance movie, does that mean…

You haven’t done your first on-camera kiss?

Or perhaps even better—you haven’t kissed anyone at all?

Not quite, nor were you ever going to disclose personal matters that truly only belonged to you.

But if your father intended to protect you, he really, really shouldn’t have said that. Eiichi shouldn’t have gone ahead and essentially pushed you further into Naoya’s claws, his words being the last piece of motivation to become completely unhinged and make your time with him… tense, to say the least.

Oh, but how could he not? You were simply too adorable when trying to do your best to fulfill everyone’s expectations: barely putting up a fuss when Naoya got a bit too dramatic to what the script demanded, far more handsy, even when not recording: all for the sake of staying in character, he’d claim.

And when he dejectedly worked on those scenes where nothing of his interest was happening, you didn’t even complain. You kept quiet, submissive, taking the situation as best as you could and kept on working—because that’s what professional actresses do, isn’t it? And you’re nothing but the best.

But things didn’t really escalate until it was time to record that long-awaited kiss; what the script demanded to be the first kiss between their characters, in other words, something sweet, overall a touching scene.

However, Naoya naturally had to blur the line between his work and personal life—and instead of taking this moment as what it was, just two people trying to get the job done, he decided to… mark it as some declaration of feelings.

Confirmation that the time the two had spent together, a few weeks now, had actually amounted to something; aside from figuring out what your soft lips tasted like.

Because to Naoya, those interactions in between breaks, outside of the set, and even during filming, had been quite meaningful to him. To you too, he suspects.

Your shy nature just didn’t allow you to openly affirm it, a little push was all you needed to do so.

”Don’t be nervous, dumpling.” Is the nickname he’d given you upon seeing your excitement for last week's catering. You’ve politely told him it wasn’t necessary to call you that, but he insisted otherwise, calling it their very first inside joke. What everyone does to get along better. “Just follow my lead and I’ll worry about everything else, ok?”

Not exactly the reassuring words you were searching for, but for someone of Naoya’s expertise, alongside the physical hold he had over you at this point, hands over your arms, keeping you close to his chest… it’s not like you could demand otherwise.

And so, after everyone was in position, the director finally signals the scene to begin: Naoya delivers the script with an uncharacteristic perfection, outside of that slight rush behind his words, eager to get to that one particular moment, it’s obvious he’s been looking forward to recording this.

To kiss you, which he abruptly does by suddenly moving his face towards yours and then, captivating your lips onto his—giving more than his interpretation of the character’s desire: it was him wanting to take in your scent, warmth, touch, everything, and bask in it.

Claim it as his own, for those in the room, and the world in due time, to see.

One might’ve even assumed you were fine with his intentions too, given how you didn’t complain nor fight back against his desperate gesture, struggling to follow his lead in a way that appeared he was trying to eat you alive.

Which thankfully didn’t happen once the director cut the scene, and just before you ran out of breath.

”Naoya, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, that was—a bit too much.” The director said; if he was aware of your and Naoya’s fluster, he didn’t comment. “Let’s do it again, from the top.”

Normally, Naoya would’ve retorted at what he considered unnecessary reshooting, apparently his time was far more valuable than the rest even when he was being paid millions to be there… but this time around, he was nothing but obliging, in fact, Naoya even suggested that they’d go at it once more just to be sure they captured the right sentiment. Fulfill his desire.

With each time becoming more and more desperate than the other.

Naoya frequently claimed himself to be immune to any kind of addiction, thought of it as weak for the character, above such “petty” faults—But when it came to you… he just proved to be as human as the rest.

He physically needed to have all of you; they’d have to forcibly pry him away to stop—

Or for you to do so, swiftly placing your hands over his chest and pushing him away when it became too much, putting an end to the scene before the director could and subsequently raising many eyebrows around you.

”What’s wrong, Y/N?” The director asks upon seeing your distraught face—exhausted from the many reshoots, and of course, Naoya’s overbearing ways. “Is everything alright?”

”Ye-yeah, I just… I’m sorry, I think I need a break.” You silently plead, looking over to your manager who was more than ready to step in if your request was dismissed; which thankfully, wasn’t. The director sighing before turning around and stating:

”Alright everyone, take 5.”

The perfect opportunity for Naoya to follow through with his so-called affirmation of feelings, trailing behind you soon after.

“Hey, dumpling, wait up! There’s something I need to—“

”Not right now, Naoya.” You respond, your pace unwavering. You didn’t even turn to face him. “I have to—be alone for a moment.”

”Y/N—“

Your father and sister, manager and assistant respectively, close in on you and break eye contact between the two, allowing you retreat into what he assumed your dressing room—

And leaving him behind to deal with his anger, which he immediately takes out on the director, stomping his way to him and giving him a piece of his mind.

“So you’re just going to let her go?” Naoya hisses, the man, having worked with him on previous occasions, simply sighs.

”What do you want me to do, Naoya? You saw how she ran away.” He responds. “Besides, we’ve been at it all day, I’m tired too.”

”This is just going to ruin the pace of the film, you know that, right? You should, considering your… experience.”

”Look, Naoya— it’s quite obvious what you were trying to do back there, I’ve seen it before; but we’re not going to discuss that.” He adds. “The girl is new in the game, naive, and overprotected. Did you know that her management sent us a long list of requisites after the studio offered her a contract? If it weren’t for her family, she would’ve been immediately dismissed.”

”Requisites? What kind of requisites?”

“None that I can discuss with you, but I guess I could tell you the obvious: you were not part of them. There’s a reason why Nanami was firmly set for your role, but guess that doesn’t matter since you know your way around these things…”

”Is there something else you’re hiding from me? Why bring it up if you’re not going to tell me anyways!” Naoya growls. Why was Nanami brought up again, out of nowhere??

”Just take 5 minutes, Naoya. Clear up your head, we still have a long day ahead.” The director insists. “And if it’s worth anything, Y/N will be back, she’s very dedicated to her work, I’ll give her that. Even with your weird… plays, I’m sure.”

But that wasn’t enough to calm Naoya—not with the way you essentially fled from him.

Your behavior led a part of him to feel… inadequate. Underperforming—stupid.

Rejected.

And he’s never been rejected before.

A dangerous observation to make considering his easily ignited attitude.

The moment you were back, he’d demand an answer. Hear, directly from you, why you’d cruelly dismiss his advances when he had been nothing but nice to you.

… but that moment wouldn’t come today.

In fact, not even in the subsequent ones, for after everyone was abruptly requested to go home, the studio announced that filming would go on a brief hiatus to sort out some… unexpected issues—which Naoya immediately connected to you given your radio silence.

Forcing him to directly reach out to you… but you’d never answer. In fact, all of his attempts were swiftly ignored; your team didn’t even acknowledge them! As if dealing with junk mail.

Naoya’s desperation naturally spiked after that, frantically searching for an answer—

Which he’d get soon enough, but only through a tabloid which probably described the worst case scenario he could’ve imagined unfolding for this situation:

“Y/N to abandon latest project—close sources blame differences between protagonists.”

Naoya’s heart sinks.

Also, I wish to apologize if these little comma things “ appear weird? Like not the right ones at the beginning? I’m currently out of my home so all of my writing is being done through a tablet lol I’ll come back later to fix them :> I hope it didn’t ruin your reading experience :’v

And I might as well comment I didn’t feel like ending part one with just the headline, but at the same time the whole naoya’s heart skins doesn’t completely convince me…. But I don’t know, might be my impostor’s syndrome or something who knows!!!! All that I know is I have to make Naoya pathetic on the second part, so if anyone has any ideas of what you’d like to see send them in hehe I want to make him suffer :) or at least guilty, damn…

Anyways, I hope it was to your liking!! I shall proceed with the following part after I write down a little smut hehe. Thank you so much for sending in this ask, take care and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 21 hours ago

Note

I would like to request romantic yandere scott summers x reader where his darling has amnesia. Now I don’t know how they got amnesia but scott brings reader home from the hospital one day and takes reader home claiming the reader is his wife or husband( gender does not matter), even though they were not married before. Scott takes advantage of the fact reader has amnesia, I would also have to assume they are not at the mansion so scott can do his yandere doings

BAG OF BONES

Sinopsis. You remembered nothing, not even your name, yet he wove stories with threads of gold and promises. His voice, a refuge; his gaze, a cage. He claimed to love you like never before, like always. How could you doubt someone who swore to be your everything, even if his love felt like a prison disguised as home?

pairing ── Yandere! Scott Summers x Amnesiac! Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Dark themes, violence/death, blood, retrograde amnesia, forced marriage, inappropriate touching, insolation, invasion of privacy, kidnapping?, Slight mention of pregnancy, delusion, Angst, murdering, Disturbing Content, Death of a canonical character, lgbt?, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Honestly, I've always been interested in the Yandere x Amnesiac theme. It's really fascinating how the psychology of the characters can be so complex in these types of stories. Also, thank you for being clear and concise in your request, and I hope you enjoy it.

They say one should never try to go back to the past, that the present is where we must live and the future what we must build. But how could you do that when you felt a piercing emptiness in your chest, a pain you didn’t understand? Your heart screamed that something was wrong, that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, that danger lurked closer than you could imagine.

The white glare of the hospital lights blinded you as you opened your eyes. You felt your body heavy, your mind clouded, and an absolute bewilderment that made you tremble. Everything felt strange, as if you were a piece out of place in an unknown puzzle. Then you saw him.

A tall man, with a firm build, wearing burgundy glasses that hid his eyes but not his excited expression. His smile lit up upon seeing you awake, and before you could say anything, his lips pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your hair, leaving desperate and anxious kisses.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered with a warm, relieved voice.

But you weren’t. You remembered nothing. Not even your name. Confusion filled you, and words wouldn’t come to your lips. He, however, seemed to have all the answers.

“I’m Scott Summers, do you remember me?” he said, taking your hand gently. His fingers were warm, but the way he squeezed them made you feel trapped—“We just got married.”

Married? The impact left you breathless. You looked at your hands, and there it was: a beautiful diamond ring along with a wedding band. Its shine seemed to confirm his words. When you looked up, you saw he wore a similar set on his left hand.

“I... don’t remember...” you started to say, but he shook his head gently.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re alive, and that’s all that matters. I’ll take care of you.”

His voice was sweet, reassuring, and you decided to believe him. Why wouldn’t you? Everything seemed to fit: the ring, the familiarity in his gestures, the way he looked at you. But deep inside, there was something you couldn’t silence.

There was something in his smile, something in the way his fingers never stopped touching you, that made you feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like you were a butterfly trapped in a display case, admired but with no escape.

How naïve you were to think that warmth meant safety.

When he took you to what he said was your home, the confusion inside you grew heavier, more oppressive. It was a small cabin in the midst of a lush forest, completely isolated from the rest of the world. Scott explained that the distance was necessary, that you had always preferred the tranquility of nature, away from societal judgment, especially for what you were: a mutant.

“You used to say that here you could be yourself,” he murmured with a smile as he parked the car. His words were warm, but they sounded strange.

As he guided you through the house, you noticed how his explanations seemed overly rehearsed, almost mechanical. The master bedroom was cozy, with dark wooden furniture and a large bed, but there was something unsettling in how orderly everything was, as if you had never truly lived there.

“This is the guest room,” he said as he opened a door. The space was filled with tools and paint, as if it were in the process of being transformed—“I’m preparing it for something special.”

You didn’t ask for what. There was something in his tone that dissuaded you from doing so.

The kitchen, however, came with a warning. “Don’t enter here without me, okay? I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself?” The phrase hung in your mind as he showed you the rest of the house. Finally, you arrived at the living room, the space that unsettled you the most.

It was a mix of museum and altar. There were photos of you everywhere: smiling, reading, walking in a park you didn’t recognize. Some included Scott, his arm always firmly around your shoulders, and others showed a group of people who seemed unfamiliar yet strangely familiar.

In one of the photos, a group dressed in flamboyant, almost theatrical clothes stood out. It was a mosaic of colors and textures that evoked something lost on the edge of your memory. In the image, you were in a corner, embraced by a young woman with pink glasses who seemed a few years younger than you. On your other side, a brown-haired woman with white streaks smiled subtly, though she didn’t touch you. She seemed close, important.

However, what caught your attention the most wasn’t any of them, but a figure in the background, almost hidden behind Scott. A woman with bright red hair who seemed to look at the man with particular intensity. The photo was slightly blurry, as if someone had manipulated it or neglected it on purpose.

“Who is she?” you asked, pointing at the blurred figure before you could stop yourself.

Scott tensed immediately. His smile vanished for an instant before returning, though more forced. “Oh, just someone from the past. It doesn’t matter now. The only thing that matters is you and how happy we are together.”

You didn’t press. His response wasn’t enough, but something in his gaze told you that pushing was dangerous.

That night, as you tried to sleep, doubts burned inside you. Who was that woman? Why couldn’t you remember anything about your life, not even the people in those photos? And above all, why did every time you looked at Scott, the weight in your chest grew heavier, as if you were trapped in a gilded cage?

You didn’t love Scott. You couldn’t. Maybe you had at some point, but if that was the case, that love didn’t survive the accident that erased your memories. Now, he was a stranger, and his constant need for contact suffocated you. Scott wasn’t just clingy; he was voracious. Every caress felt like an indelible mark on your skin, every kiss a reminder that you weren’t free.

He adored being glued to you, almost as if he feared you would disappear if he let go. He insisted on bathing you, choosing your clothes and dressing you, his fingers grazing your skin more than necessary. He prepared every meal with devotion and served it to you as if you were a deity to be worshipped. But even those gestures, so carefully disguised as love, carried a shadow you couldn’t ignore.

“I want you to feel cared for, protected,” he would tell you with a smile as he brushed your hair. His words were sweet, but the way he said them was unsettling, as if he were convincing himself more than you.

Days passed in suffocating routines and deafening silence. Scott took you outdoors, around the cabin, making sure not to stray too far. He said it was for your safety, but you knew that wasn’t true. Every time you looked at the forest, so vast and full of possibilities, you felt a growing urge to run, to escape, even though you didn’t know where to go.

And then the flashes began.

At first, they were fleeting images, fragments that emerged when you least expected them. A smile that wasn’t from Scott. A soft laugh. Bright green eyes framed by fiery red hair. The woman from the photo.

Every time those memories surfaced, a sharp pain pierced your head, as if your mind struggled to protect you from something you didn’t want to know. But the most disturbing thing wasn’t the woman, but how you saw her: standing next to Scott, his hand in hers, their lips forming words you couldn’t hear. Happy. United. Almost as if…

No.

The first day you had that memory, you screamed in the middle of breakfast. The spoon fell from your hands as you instinctively recoiled in your chair. Scott was beside you in an instant, his hands firm on your shoulders, his eyes hidden behind glasses but his face filled with concern.

“What’s wrong, love? Are you okay?”

“I... I...” You tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was look at his hands, those same hands that in your visions touched another woman with the same devotion as they now touched you.

Scott frowned, his expression darkening for a moment before a nervous smile returned to his face. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It’s normal, sweetheart. Take a moment.”

But it wasn’t. And you knew it.

That night, as you brushed your teeth, the mirror in front of you trembled. Not from any external movement, but because your mind was slowly breaking, releasing pieces of a puzzle you were just beginning to recognize. A flash hit you, as if a storm were dragging you to another time.

She was there, the red-haired woman you had seen before, but this time she wasn’t a blurry image. Her laughter was warm, almost contagious, and you were next to her, shy, with a small smile that barely dared to emerge. Her hand rested gently on your arm while the other figures around you joined in the conversation.

The dark-haired woman with white streaks watched you with a mischievous look, an eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms. Beside her, a young woman with pink glasses laughed loudly, patting your shoulder as if she had known you forever. Nearby, another tall woman, with deep eyes and a majestic demeanor, looked at you with a mix of understanding and affection. They all seemed to encourage something, their animated voices like a chaotic melody you could barely comprehend.

“He’s a good man,” one of them said, her tone firm but kind. “He adores you!” exclaimed the youngest, with a beaming smile. “Just go and have a little fun.”

But not all were so enthusiastic. The red-haired woman didn’t share their laughter or their words of encouragement. Her expression was softer, almost melancholic, and her eyes met yours for a long moment. When the others dispersed, she stepped closer to you.

Her hands took yours, warm and steady, and for a moment you felt more protected than you had in a long time. She didn’t say anything at first, just hugged you tightly, her embrace speaking more than any words. Leaning toward your ear, her voice was a whisper, but her words were etched into your memory.

“You have my blessings…” Her breath was shaky, and you felt her fingers tighten slightly on your back—“And I love you.”

You stepped back slightly to look at her, but her smile seemed like a mask. There was something in her eyes you couldn’t understand at that moment, something that hurt you in a strange way.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving you standing in front of the mirror, gasping. You gripped the edge of the sink, your fingers white from the pressure. Your reflection seemed distant, as if it weren’t yours.

Who was she? What did it all mean? And above all, why did her face, her voice, her embrace fill you with a warmth that made Scott’s love feel cold and forced?

The mirror in front of you trembled as you hit it with your hands, gasping, your pupils dilated with terror. Your reflection didn’t look like you. It was a broken version, trapped in a life you didn’t understand.

Scott appeared behind you like a ghost, his hands wrapping around your waist firmly. His warm breath on your neck made you shiver.

“You look tired, love. Let me take care of you.”

The first time you saw him in full clarity was in a dream, or so you thought when you woke up, gasping and with your body soaked in cold sweat.

You were in a dark and damp room, the air heavy with the metallic smell of blood. Your hands trembled as you held a fragile, cold, lifeless body: a woman with red hair, now dulled and stuck to her pale face. Blood stained her lips and flowed from multiple wounds on her chest, as if something had pierced her repeatedly. They weren’t normal wounds; they were small, irregular caves, burned by a heat that couldn’t be human.

Jean. Her name hit you like lightning. Jean. Now you knew, and the weight of that name on your chest made you sob as you held her against you, trying, futilely, to cover the wounds with your hands.

“No... no, please, wake up...” Your voice was a desperate whisper, broken, a lament in the void.

The sound of footsteps behind you made your body tense. You recognized them before turning around. Their walk was unmistakable: confident, calculated, almost victorious.

Scott was there. His figure was silhouetted against the dim light, his burgundy glasses shining with an unsettling glow. His face showed no sadness, no guilt. Only satisfaction.

“It had to be this way,” he said with a calm voice, too tranquil for the scene before you. His tone was gentle, almost kind, as if he were explaining something simple.

You stood frozen, your hands still holding the body of the woman, while your mind struggled to process his words.

“What... what did you do?” you managed to murmur, though your voice was barely a thread.

Scott took another step forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor. He knelt before you, ignoring the blood staining the ground and spreading like a river between you two. His hand rose to caress your cheek, and you flinched, unable to move.

“Now that she’s gone…” he continued, his tone filled with a sweetness that was terrifying—“nothing can separate us. We can be together, just as we were always meant to be.”

Your body reacted before your mind did. You let Jean’s body fall, stumbling backward, your hands still trembling, covered in her blood. “You’re crazy!” you shouted, though your voice broke into a sob at the end.

But Scott didn’t seem affected. He stood up with the calmness of someone who knows he has already won. He took a step toward you, and then another, until you had no space left to escape.

“No, love,” he said, leaning toward you, his breath brushing your ear—“I’m in love.”

The intensity in his voice paralyzed you. It was a declaration, not an explanation. He truly believed that everything he had done was out of love.

The dream, or the memory, ended there, with his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his skin. You woke up with a start, a muffled scream in your throat and your heart pounding in your chest.

Your hands continued to tremble as you looked around the room. You were in the cabin, in your bed, but the smell of blood still seemed to linger in the air.

“Are you okay?” Scott’s voice broke the silence. He was next to you, watching you with his typical feigned concern, his hand already reaching for yours.

You instinctively recoiled, pulling away from his touch, but you tried to hide it. Your breathing was ragged, and you forced yourself to nod. “Just... a bad dream.”

He smiled, but his eyes behind the glasses didn’t stop watching you with that intensity that always seemed to hide something more. “I’m here for you. Always.”

That night, you decided you had to uncover the truth, even if it cost you your sanity... or your life.

A/N ── Yes, it’s not a happy ending, but at least it’s an ending that leaves a lot of room for reflection. I wanted to try out a conclusion like this at some point, and I hope it didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. Thank you for reading, and if you want to request something, feel free to do so as long as requests are open. More information in the pinned comment!

Take a bath!

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ideasnstuff · 23 hours ago

Text

Not an idea but a short thing nevertheless.

One of my favourite skk scenes.

A description.

Looking at Chuuya at that precise moment had become extremely awkward.

Well, in reality it had always been embarrassing to look at Chuuya, when the boy shone as brightly as a blazing flame.

Looking at Chuuya had always been simultaneously embarrassing and a source of inexplicable irritation.

But now... now that he looked at the boy in front of him... the one taller, now felt small.

Blood bubbled violently in the pale veins, producing human heat that Dazai was not even aware of its existence.

It contrasted, therefore, with the cooled air of the light and melancholy night.

The previous conversation had been done casually, in an attempt to calm Chuuya, who - Dazai had realized - hadn't needed any reassurance.

But seeing the face covered in pungent stains of dried blood on the white skin, writhing in an expression of irritation and frustration, it had been enough to confirm Nakahara Chuuya's usual state.

The boy was fine, as he always was.

And Dazai, faced with so much willpower, so much resistance, stronger than the burden of fate, could only feel a certain respect.

Looking at the boy had become wrong. Looking at someone who had been through hell on earth was extremely shameful.

But Chuuya didn't seem fazed by this, speaking and treating Dazai, a mere mortal, as if nothing had happened.

Who would have thought, that the annoying boy and arrogant, had become the remedy for Dazai's eternal and inherent boredom.

Surely, a year ago, Dazai wouldn't have guessed such a thing.

Even though from the first day she had laid eyes on the boy, she had felt something different, something protective and... necessary... he'd never thought that would be enough to continue playing the game that people called life.

And for that very reason, Dazai looked with different eyes - or rather, with his only eye - with a feeling of admiration, respect and some inferiority towards Chuuya.

He felt small next to the boy.

Oh how his heart beat with atrocity against the fragile ribs...

He felt almost alive, the wind passing between them, like a caress from a mother's hand that neither had ever felt...

It was strange, but a pleasant and exciting strangeness.

So when Chuuya - altruistic and carefree Chuuya - had shown signs of wanting to sacrifice himself - the only person Dazai would eventually feel something for after his imminent death - had shown signs of his sacrifice - Dazai felt the need to at least try to stop that madness.

More for his own sake, that for the city's sake.

He knew he was selfish, but he couldn't let the flame that still burned, albeit a little less than usual, go out.

But... and so he told him what he felt, feelings camouflaged by excessive logic.

Chuuya had looked at him, eyes gradually larger with each passing second, the storm looming over his captivating iris and his features more surprised than he had planned.

Would he be... surprised?

Why would he be surprised?

In order to find out why, Dazai took a moment to look at him.

A mistake.

A big mistake.

Chuuya's eyes pierced into his soul as if trying to see behind the superficial layer that Dazai covered himself with.

Even with the layer of baggage in his eye.

Terrifying.

Absolutely terrifying.

But... so... magnetic.

It was the pair of eyes that had made him want to live a year ago.

Stormy, confusing, misty... beautiful...

And with his face dressed in pain and chaos... Dazai thought that Chuuya was... even more fascinating.

And as a source of attraction and interest, Dazai had to look away, feeling a certain heat in the cheeks, cooled by the night air.

Chuuya didn't look away, his gaze seemed to see everything, revealing everything.

The visible and invisible.

And Dazai felt even smaller and more naked, stumbling over the words and feelings implied.

He knew nothing would change Chuuya's decision, but he didn't want to be the one who got in Chuuya's way.

Just that once... he allowed himself to open his heart, because... someone as deserving and fascinating as Chuuya Nakahara deserved it.

He deserved honesty and Dazai could give it to him.

It was the least he could do.

And at the end of it all, with the boy asleep in his arms, Dazai finally allowed himself to release the breath he had suppressed.

A small, relieved smile appeared on his lips, looking down at Chuuya in his arms...

He could say, now for sure, with honesty and a delicacy unknown to him...

"Sleep now Chuuya"

And Chuuya, like the obedient dog he was, or out of extreme exhaustion...

Stayed still.

Chuuya was safe in those arms-

Dazai's arms.

His relatively misty eyes met Dazai's single eye before falling asleep in his arms... making Dazai suppress the emotional surprise that had invaded him, as soon as Chuuya had turned his head against his chest.

Peaceful and quiet, so... Chuuya-unlike.

But he had trusted Dazai.

The guy that nobody in the mafia trusted.

But Chuuya... Chuuya did.

(Dazai convinced himself that it was because he had no other choice and not because of the trust he had in him-)

But either way... Chuuya was lying in Dazai's arms, sleeping in his arms, using Dazai's chest as a pillow... and Dazai fed the fantasy that at least Chuuya had-

Chuuya had trusted him.

Chuuya had trusted his life to him.

He couldn't let him down.

He laughed a little, a laugh that was more desperate and relieved than funny.

(He ended up leaving Chuuya on the ground, after a brief caress on his bloody face, cleaning it with the sleeve of his coat.)

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer spoilers #skk #bsd skk #bsd soukoku #SOUKOKU #soukoku #ideasnstuff #short thing #i hope you enjoy nevertheless #this scene is the best SB skk scene

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